The next morning, Blaise comes back through my fireplace in what is becoming a weekend ritual - except this time, he spent the whole weekend with Ginny, beginning Friday evening when I 'saw' them at the Leaky Cauldron.

I need him to help me figure out what the hell is going on in my fics with Granger, but I am genuinely curious to know how he made out with his dream redhead.

First off, Blaise is essentially testing my idea of multi-location fics by accident and I want to know how it worked.

"When you left the Leaky Cauldron, how did it happen?"

Blaise shrugs. "It was the same sort of mist you start out inhaling. I'd told them in advance what I wanted to do, so when I was ready I said, 'Next place, then' and it started. We both breathed it in and landed in the little flat I usually ask for, the one I'd specified before we got started."

Huh. This brings up a couple of other questions. "Does this seem strange to Ginny?"

He shakes his head thoughtfully. "No, no more so than landing in the first fic to begin with. I don't know how they Obliviate them but it seems like certain truths are hard-wired in. None of this is strange, for example. Locations change. They'll almost never have a wand. When they do have one, like if you want to duel someone, it's clearly limited to basic party tricks but it doesn't concern them. I don't know how Dolohov does it."

Neither do I, but I'm beginning to wonder if the constant Obliviation and memory manipulation is having negative effects, after all. On Granger anyway, if not on the others.

"And the flat you ask for - what's that like?"

Blaise gives me a funny look. "It's just one of the generic locations Dolohov designed, you know, for people who don't care about a specific companion or destination. It's a basic flat, nondescript. We usually have dinner there, snog on the couch, and eventually go to bed. It all seems perfectly normal to her. Maybe she thinks it's my flat."

"Did she enjoy Quidditch Saturday?" She seemed to.

It was one of my first experiences in the Quidditch fic, definitely the first one in over a year. I had been very distracted by the abhorrent feeling of being Ron Weasley, but looking back, the fic was greatly improved. All the other ones I've been in lately have been too, so I'm not surprised.

But now, knowing the fics are a physical, tangible place, I realise the crowd must be the simulation. We hadn't had one - it was just the three of us on an empty Hogwarts pitch with some hoops.

"She loved it," he grins at me. He's almost beaming, in fact, proud of this gift he was able to give Ginny.

"Can you do me a favour?" I ask. This is related but he doesn't know that yet, and he gives me a puzzled look. "Can you do the Quidditch thing again?"

"Sure, like I said, she loved it. But why? Do you want to come again?"

"Hell no," I say in reflex. "But I want to know if she -"

How do I describe it? It sounds impossible. The companions are not supposed to remember anything. Ever.

I decide to start with Granger and I tell Blaise about my two recent fics with her.

Her fear in the first one, slowly fading until I was able to provoke her into anger like I used to all the time, using a very specific fake scenario of Dark creature research. And the same initial fear turning into complete confusion in the second one where she seemed to recall certain elements of the first.

He's looking at me as if I'm completely mental. Maybe I am. But I know I didn't imagine what happened. I know it wasn't a coincidence.

"Just -" I break off, frustrated. "Just try it again with Ginny. Or something else distinctly memorable like that, not just snogging on the couch. But be careful, you know, you can't… push her in that direction. You can't lead her. Just see if you can spot any recognition at all on her part."

Blaise shifts uncomfortably and I realise he's blushing. It's faint but when he turns, the light catches the light sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

"Blaise…" I narrow my eyes at him pointedly. "What did you two get up to this weekend? You already did something memorable, didn't you?"

A delightedly slow smile draws across my face in realisation. "You did it, didn't you?"

He still hasn't answered me but he's blushing more furiously than ever. "You did! You wanker, you did it!"

He tries to act offended and fails. "'Wanker' isn't the right term anymore, I don't think."

I tackle him on the bed, hooting, and he throws me off of him. Off balance, I ricochet off one of my own chairs, still cackling in laughter and sitting down hard on the floor.

Blaise straightens his collar in a dignified manner. "'Wanker' is the right term for you, though. When did you last have a shag?"

Still snorting, I manage, "Eloise, the last time we were all out together a couple of weeks ago. But don't change the subject. Tell me about it."

I'm not optimistic; Blaise has been extremely private about his time with Ginevra Weasley, but he used to love bragging about this part. Which way will he lean this morning?

His tendency trends towards making sure I know it was consensual, as if I was concerned about Blaise in that way.

"By the time we'd spent Friday night and all of Saturday together, we were messing about Saturday evening and she was willing to take it further. Finally she wanted to go all the way through with it. I tried to tell her what to expect, but as Potter hasn't had sex either, sometimes it was hard to remember to act like him."

I can imagine Blaise's brain wasn't exactly firing synapses at top speed when about to shag Ginny Weasley for the first time.

I mull this over.

When companions are Healed after a fic, I've never considered the loss of virginity. It's not the sort of 'injury' I think of as needing Healing. Will Ginny be able to tell that she feels differently? Is it sore for her today generally, or would she only notice if she attempted sex too soon afterwards?

But Blaise was quite right. If Ginny is going to have any flashes of recognition from this weekend, having sex for the first time ought to do it.

Then I shake myself. The companions have been raped a hundred times. A thousand. It's only in Ginny's mind that she lost her virginity to her boyfriend, and that was supposed to be Obliviated.

It almost certainly was. Granger is acting oddly, yes, but Snape said they'd had no other reports of peculiar behaviour from other companions.

But between Quidditch and first-time sex with the boyfriend Ginny loves, it's still a worthwhile experiment for Blaise to test for me next weekend.

As Blaise and I both have regular jobs outside the park, any larger meetings to discuss and plan financial growth have to be done after normal business hours, grating on everybody else.

For this one, I requested Dolohov and Snape and allowed the two of them to delegate additional attendance to any team members they decide should participate.

A fair amount of grumbling ensued, not stopping even after I started the meeting. Dolohov isn't running a very tight ship around here. Another problem.

The new Polyjuice options have been deemed ready for public use. We're offering time periods in two-hour increments up to twelve hours, for now, at increasing price points.

Snape is moving on to the modified imperio option with an intended roll-out of two months from now.

I present my suggestion for multi-location fics, charging for each location.

It could be disparate locations, like Blaise's trip to the Leaky Cauldron, to the flat, then to play Quidditch, etc, or it could be my idea of being able to stroll Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade in general, across multiple shops.

The Hogwarts castle dorm to a classroom, maybe. The Quidditch pitch to the hospital wing - magical sporting catastrophes combined with Healer fantasies.

It's met with general approval for more detailed planning and that satisfies my current goals for expanding options to the wealthy clientele.

But for everybody else, which is where I hope to gain the most profitable ground - when the locations are improved, is it the same location or is the rudimentary one abandoned in lieu of the new, better detailed option?

Dolohov says it's a mix, depending on the complexity of the expansion, but I'm still pleased.

"Let's offer some of the old options at cheaper prices. We've already designed them; let's start using them again. Not everyone can afford the best that we have to offer."

I tell them we're going to implement an advertising programme with a focus on the completely-simulated fics and companions, to drive up revenue from customers of more limited means.

We can't make as much off each one, so we need more of them. The goal is quantity.

"Advertise that we're dropping the prices of those by 10%, and run two sets of ads - one aimed at wizards and one at witches."

Eyebrows raise all along the table - except for Blaise, who smiles into his cupped hand - and I sigh.

"Yes, you bloody idiots. Witches like these fics, too, and they're half our magical population. Run ads in Witch Weekly as well as the Prophet, signs in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade."

And with a final, "Get it done," I turn everybody loose.

I'm very curious to see Granger again and check her state of mind. I decide to throw her a wild card, someplace she's probably never been and could have no memory of already.

We land in the Knockturn Alley bookstore, Moribund's, and Granger sees me at once.

I'm prepared to postulate some excuse for why we're both here, but she doesn't seem fazed in the slightest. She looks around, absorbing her general surroundings - bookshop, check.

Then she gives me a bold look, confident in her eye contact, and then strides down one row calling over her shoulder, "You're here to help me, aren't you?

Flabbergasted, I follow. What is this? "What makes you think I'm here to help?"

"You offered, didn't you?" She's impatient, bossy, and I'm trying to keep up.

Did I? I guess I did, early at the start of the last fic.

I offered to help her search for whatever it was she thought she was there to find. At the time she shot me down, either not wanting to accept help at all or not trusting me to be of use. Or maybe not trusting me because I'm a Death Eater.

I wonder what she thinks she's here for now. "Ah, alright, then. What are we looking for?"

Granger turns to stare at me as if I've gone mental. Maybe she doesn't want this pathetic assistant after all. "Horcruxes."

That gives me an opening, the old sort I used to look for, and I try to get under her skin.

"You think the Dark Lord hid a Horcrux here?" I widen my eyes disbelievingly, enjoying the flush of anger on her face.

"You're such a stupid wanker," she flares. "Of course not. You said I'd be better off looking down Knockturn Alley for Horcrux books, and here we are. So look."

She points towards the other side of the bookshop and I'm dismissed. Yes, ma'am.

Amused, I retreat to my designated area and watch her scan the shelves. She's clearly interested in loads of things here, and I'm sure even without the Obliviation, she's never been here before.

I'm not sure if her mind is making a deductive leap that this unfamiliar, clearly Dark shop is located on Knockturn Alley, or if she's relying on her hazy memory of our last fic. But either way, I'm sure she's had no actual experiences in this shop.

It's probably riveting.

If she likes it here, I could bring her here every time. She might gravitate towards the same things each time, but maybe not - depending on what that echo in her brain is telling her she needs.

But even without the echo, the companions still always seemed to have that tiny bit left to improvise with. I wonder what Granger would want to find here if there wasn't a specific purpose whispering in her mind.

I had heckled her about being morally grey a couple of fics ago and she'd reacted brilliantly, completely offended, but I really think it's true.

Now, I don't think she'd actually have considered a war strategy that would risk civilian loss of life or even equal losses to Resistance fighters, but she's a hell of a lot more shrewd than Potter and Weasley ever were.

I wouldn't have been surprised to see her in Slytherin, in fact. She's more selfless than we are - we aren't selfless at all, so that's not hard - and that probably made the difference.

But her level of cunning can't be discounted.

She'd trapped Rita Skeeter in an unbreakable jar for months. Skeeter had gone suspiciously quiet after the end of fourth year and I'd finally tracked her down. Granger had threatened her with life in Azkaban.

And in fifth year, she'd cursed Marietta Edgecomb so badly across the face the scarring still hasn't gone.

Not to mention that somehow, after my own inquisitorial squad had captured her and some of the others, she'd tricked Umbridge, luring her into the forest where she was attacked by centaurs.

Yes, Granger has a heavy dose of Slytherin about her.

So what would she be looking for here out of her own internal curiosity? I wish I knew.

She appears at the end of my row, catching me by surprise. I thought I knew where she was. "Haven't you found anything? You're bloody useless, Malfoy."

My own healthy sense of competition rears up. She did beat me in every subject, but if she hadn't been there I'd have been top in everything. I'm many things, but I'm not useless.

"Just taking my time, Granger. Does that mean you haven't found any good Horcrux books on that side, then?"

She stops and gives me a baffled look. "Horcruxes? I'm looking for books on Manticores."

Oh, bollocks. Back to this again? I rub my temples. Should I give her a chance to explain why, or just try to cut it off now?

Without really thinking, I reach out and touch her shoulder. "Granger, we aren't -"

But she scoots backwards before I can finish so fast she nearly falls, a look of terror in her eyes. "Don't - don't touch me."

She ducks away, casting scared glances over her shoulder back at me, and I realise almost too late that she's looking for the door.

Fuck.

What's going to frighten her more, thinking she's locked in here with me, trapped, or me physically blocking her exit?

"Wait, Granger. I won't touch you," I call out urgently. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

She stops walking but doesn't turn back around.

I cautiously move closer, making plenty of noise so she won't think I'm trying to sneak up behind her. "I don't hurt you, remember?"

Her head gives that tiny sideways twitch and her hands go to her face.

I edge to the side to stay well within her line of sight. "I'm not going to hurt you. I won't touch you again. Alright? Let's go look for Horcrux books."

Her eyes come up to meet mine warily, as if she's still deciding whether to bolt.

I rest back against the shop counter and cross one ankle over the other casually, letting my body lean slightly away from hers. "Let's focus on Horcruxes today. You won't need books on Manticores. We aren't going to be using those."

She's searching my face intensely, scrutinising. I wonder what she sees there.

"Is it a trick?" she asks softly, as if to herself.

"No, Granger. It isn't a trick. We aren't using Manticores."

How can I get her back to bossing me around?

Glancing to my right, I see a couple of books on the counter near the register. I sift through them as she watches me and I pick one up. It's about the Middle Ages, a period of magical expansion across Europe.

This one mentions the architect who built Hogwarts in the year 993 and I have a flash of inspiration. "Granger, aren't there one hundred thirty-two staircases in the Hogwarts castle? Rowena Ravenclaw helped design the floorplan, I heard."

"It has one hundred forty-two staircases. One hundred and thirty-two of them move."

"How many portraits are there?"

"Six thousand, seven hundred and sixty four."

"How many are of people?"

"Six thousand, seven hundred and sixty four." She gives me an annoyed look. "A portrait is of a person, Malfoy."

Fair play. "Fine then, how many are paintings not of people?"

"Eight hundred and seven."

Now, we're getting somewhere. Her responses are almost automatic and she's recovering her patented Granger tone of voice, that one that says I should know all of this, any idiot would.

"Why aren't all the paintings of people?" I boost myself up onto the counter so I can sit on it, feet dangling.

Granger rolls her eyes. "Diversity, I expect. Some are landscapes, obviously. Some are still life. The subjects of the portraits like to be able to move about."

"Well, they could do that anyway," I tease. 'I'm hungry,' I think, and an apple appears next to me. I pick it up and take a big bite as she goggles at me.

She shakes her head dismissively. "Not every portrait wants another one coming into their own personal space just for a change of scenery. Having neutral paintings available offers that to them."

She's eyeing my apple and I realise she might be hungry, too.

Hmm. Well, why not? We're making progress here. She's not trying to sprint as far away from me as she can get and she's not fixating on Chimaeras, Manticores, or Horcruxes.

I try to ask for something specific. 'Fish and chips,' I think, 'two plates.' And then, 'Butterbeer?'

Blaise evidently makes this sort of thing work just fine, but I've never tried it. But what I asked for is simple, requiring no silverware, and isn't particularly messy.

I'm curious if Granger thinks this is odd, a meal appearing on the Moribund's Tomes checkout counter, but she doesn't seem to. Blaise was right about that as well.

She does look hungry, though, and her eyes light up at the fish and chips.

I'm amused by how diligently she clears the books off the counter before digging in, and I think, 'napkins.' Two appear and she snatches one at once before setting to work on the meal.

"Are you that hungry, Granger, or do you just like fish and chips?" I ask with one eyebrow lifted.

"It's my favourite," she says around a big bite and I feel an odd rush of satisfaction at having given this to her, even if she's speaking around a mouthful of food. My mother would cringe.

As I chew, I hear Blaise's voice.

('the options don't have to be her hitting you or nothing.')