Blaise spends another weekend with Ginny and I'm anxious to hear results. I have no idea what most of his plans were, but he promised he'd try the Quidditch again with the two of them switching off as Chaser and Keeper, just as they did after I left the last time.
Like clockwork on Sunday morning, here he is, dusting off his robes from the fireplace.
"No sex this week," he starts, cutting me off at the pass.
I raise my eyebrows. "Did something go wrong?"
He shrugs 'no,' and says, "Everything went pretty much the same. But she was happy keeping things the way they'd been. I went down on her instead, and she's so good at returning the favour I didn't even mind much. We do plenty of that."
"Did she seem… to have any inclination that she had sex with Potter last weekend? Maybe she just wasn't into it this time?"
"Nope," he confirms. "Not even a twitch. It was like last week never happened."
"The entire time? Was there anything else?"
Blaise shakes his head, shrugging again. "What about Granger?"
"This time I took her to Moribund's instead."
He snorts. "Can you take her somewhere that isn't full of books?"
"I think I have to. She keeps reverting back to the same Dark creature research." I've left out the Horcrux business. Even if it's just Blaise, even if they do get Obliviated - and it was working properly - discussing Horcruxes with a captive Resistance fighter, an Order of the Phoenix member, Potter's Golden Girl, would be considered treasonous if it ever got out.
"Was she afraid of you this time?"
I wince. "Not at the start like she has been. But I made the mistake of touching her shoulder and she freaked. 'Don't touch me, don't touch me.' I thought she was going to bolt."
Our eyes meet and we sit in silence for a moment. Blaise says what I've been afraid to. "Do you think she's remembering more than your conversations, the Dark creature stuff?"
"I've had no other indication of that -" I start, but he interrupts me.
"- aside from the fact that she's been afraid of you at all. She never used to be, you said." He makes a grim face.
I wait another minute before responding. "If she is, it's still a… an echo. I think she has the feeling, a shadow of it, instinct more than hard memory."
Standing, I rake my hand through my hair and pace a bit as I talk. "But I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what's causing it. Re-emphasising that she needs better Obliviation could be worse. I think it might be the constant layers of Obliviation doing it in the first place."
Blaise starts to speak, but I cut him off, frustrated. "Maybe me going is worse for her. It's just one more Obliviation. I just wish I knew if she was hearing… echoes of anything else, anyone else. And I wish I knew if it was happening to any of the others, but I can't exactly ask."
Blaise is nodding, contemplative. "What if I go in with you? Can I see it?"
I consider this carefully. She'll identify Blaise, of course, but he never took the Dark Mark. I don't think she'll have any horrifying associations of him outside of Hogwarts bullying - and we all did that.
"Alright. I was going to try somewhere new next time, but I think she'll be most comfortable and familiar in the Hogwarts library again."
Blaise stops me. "Maybe not, Drake," he says softly. "I think the library fic is the most frequent location for her. She might be getting some bad echoes in there, to use your term. She might not have had them much a few weeks ago, because Dolohov had just released the better expansion, but she could now."
Shit. That makes sense. And that was where her fear of me took the longest to dispel. I run my hand over my face. "Flourish and Blotts, then."
We meet with Snape after work the following day. Our presence here is commonplace now, and Dolohov doesn't blink - just waves a hand in greeting as we pass through the park lobby.
Silencing his office, Snape is uncharacteristically serious, refraining from his usual brand of snide sarcasm. I hadn't told him much, but my request that this be closed-door and without Dolohov clearly got his attention.
I get right to it, knowing he respects the lack of preamble. "I want you to put Blaise and I both into a fic with Granger. She's been acting oddly and I want him to see it."
"What's odd about her?" Snape asks shrewdly. "Still afraid of you?"
"Yes and no," I say cautiously. "She gets over that, for the most part, but she seems to be remembering flickers of our recent conversations. Nothing concrete, but it's like she can't entirely shake some of the detail."
"It's not possible," Snape dismisses outright, but I won't let him shut this down. I explain more thoroughly about the Dark creature fixation, and then how she nearly panicked when I touched her after having been previously fine, showing no fear.
He considers this, looking from myself to Blaise and back again. "You've been spending a lot of time with yours, Zabini. Have you noticed anything there?"
Blaise admits he hasn't and I ask if Snape's heard any other odd reports.
"No," he confirms, "and I don't expect to. Granger's mind may not be well suited to the level of Obliviation she receives; you could be right about that. She's the brightest witch of her age. Her brain might be trying to find cracks in the captivity. And she's easily our most popular request."
I flinch a little, and he goes on. "Perhaps we should limit her work hours to certain days or times, but it'll drive up her price."
Waving a hand at this, I say, "Do it. Limit her."
Snape gives me a sly smile. "Is she also limited to you? Or do you still want access to her?"
I give him a cold look and he chuckles. "Very well."
We land in Flourish and Blotts together, and I see Granger's hair appear in the row to our right. She starts to peruse at once and I wish I'd given Blaise a little more prep. Keep between Granger and the door, let her know you're there but act like she isn't.
Curious, I look through the shelf to see what section she landed in. It's… biographies and autobiographies. She scans a few titles and moves along, trailing a hand behind her across the spines as she walks, fingers flipping across book after book.
I position myself at the end of a row so she sees me as she makes the turn. "Hello, Granger," I say politely, and pull a book off a shelf.
She freezes and looks at us both quickly, eyes running across our faces.
"Zabini here is helping me pick out a new fiction series to start," and Blaise nods agreeably. Good boy.
Granger gives us a slightly suspicious look and moves down the next row. History.
Is she going for anything in particular? I can't tell yet. But I'm encouraged by the lack of fear.
The wariness on her face is perfectly reasonable; she's in a bookshop with two Slytherins who always bullied her. But I don't sense any of the fright I did the first time in the library, or even for a flash the first time here.
Zabini gives me a look and shrugs one shoulder, like 'No big deal, right?' I nod cautiously.
I give her a few minutes to herself, discussing some absurd-sounding rubbish I plucked off a rack with Zabini, letting her think I'm well occupied. I slowly move closer to her section and then ask her what she's looking for.
She looks up, a little startled, but I'm still two shelves away.
"History," she says distractedly. "The Hogwarts' castle architect who designed the staircases."
Blaise thinks nothing of this but my stomach sinks. I hadn't told him about this; she hadn't had a chance to remember it yet, but here we are. "Isn't all of that in Hogwarts: a History? I figured you had it memorised."
Granger rolls her eyes. "I do, of course, but I'm looking for a biography on the architect himself. He worked with Rowena Ravenclaw and he sounds very interesting."
I'm wrestling with whether to risk reigniting the creature fixation and I decide to tip a toe in the waters.
"I'm sure he was," I agree, "Do you know where he was from? Europe or… or Africa, maybe?" She glances up at me, and I prod her just a bit. "If it was Africa, he might have heard of a Nundu. When were they discovered?"
She hesitates and I see her mind turning, retrieving the trivia. "The earliest recorded mention of a Nundu was in the 1200s. So if he had seen one in the 900s while he was designing Hogwarts, he didn't mention it anywhere."
She says this almost tonelessly, as if her brain is trying to catalogue the information and cross-reference the two topics.
Blaise is looking back and forth between the two of us, assessingly. I don't know how to read this either, so I can't give him any help.
On one hand, she doesn't seem to be jumping back to us considering using a Nundu in the war. On the other, I don't know that she would know that much about Nundus if I hadn't prompted it the other week. Is she remembering her own recent research into them?
Bollocks experiment. I curse myself. What else can I try?
"Well, that does sound interesting, Granger," I say finally. "What else are you looking for? Can I help?"
Her mouth opens and closes and she looks away, past us both. "I -" she stops. "I can do it myself."
"If you say so," I shrug nonchalantly. "But I'm happy to help. I'm not useless, you know."
This makes her eyes narrow again, but I'm turning away from her and back to Blaise, where I strike up a quiet conversation to tell him about the Rowena Ravenclaw and Hogwarts design connection as she walks away.
I think it was a mistake to try and prompt her. I should leave it alone. Right? As much as I want Blaise to see I'm not mental, it's better if she doesn't cycle back into the repetition she was in before.
I've just about decided this, decided that it's time to end it and exit, when she pops back out from our left. I see Blaise jump and I almost smile. I knew where she was, but this does seem to be a sudden choice on her part. I go on the offence.
"Yes, Granger?" I drawl, sounding bored.
She hesitates, clearly weighing whether or not to interrupt. "Do you know anything about - about Horcruxes?"
I hear Blaise's sharp intake of breath and I fervently hope he has the sense not to react. This is another thing I did not prepare him for, purposefully at the time - as I didn't want to admit to discussing Horcruxes with her - but I should have been ready for the possibility that she would bring it up herself.
I lean against the closest rack casually. "I might. Is that what you're trying to find here?"
She nods tightly, her tongue making the quickest appearance to wet her lower lip before she bites it. "Yes, Harry… Harry needs as much detail as I can find."
"He's looking for them, is he?" I prompt, looking at my fingernails as if I'm managing only the most polite interest. But my mind is turning now, too. She started out in the Hogwarts library like this, admitting she was looking for information on Horcruxes for Harry. Nothing about this current conversation implies that we have discussed it already.
"Yes, he…" Granger trails off and looks around, then back at us suddenly, as if she's only realised she's talking to two Slytherins.
"Well, Granger," I say with authority as I pick a piece of invisible lint off my robes, "as I said, I'm happy to help. But you're probably not going to find anything here. You're better off looking down Knockturn Alley."
At this, her head jerks up and eyes meet mine with a flash of recognition. I think. But she turns on her heel and disappears back down her row again.
Blaise is giving me an odd look, which is understandable. I purse my lips, trying to figure out what to do next.
If - if - Knockturn Alley is now on her mind, she could go to two probable places: me touching her and scaring the bloody hell out of her, or eating fish and chips with me at the counter.
I decide to test the former. Letting Granger get well into another search, I come up behind her. I'm still careful to provide plenty of noise on approach but I don't think she hears me, anyway.
Blaise is still watching from across the shop as I reach up to grab a book from over her head, letting my robes brush against her back.
She lets out a soft squeak and drops the book she's holding. I bend to pick it up and let my fingers touch hers as I hand it back to her.
Nothing. She gives me a furtive look from beneath her lashes and says, "Thanks," as she scurries a metre or so away and I tilt my head, thinking.
Huh.
I mean, this is good, though. Yeah?
I catch Blaise's eye and he's looking at me like he definitely thinks I'm mental, now. I sigh. Fair enough. I move back towards Blaise and away from Granger.
"You try. Go get her attention by touching her on the arm."
He lifts his eyebrows in scepticism but starts walking her way. The look said, 'you owe me for today,' and I guess I do. Nothing particularly unusual is happening here.
But I'm not disappointed with this test. He taps her on the shoulder and she almost comes out of her skin. She whips around and registers that it's him. Backing up rapidly, she clutches the book and says shrilly, "Don't touch me. Get away."
He advances on her one step, and she looks around wildly. No wand. Nothing else to use.
"Get away!" she shrieks and when he doesn't back up, she throws the book at his face. Blaise dodges it and backs off, looking at me for direction.
I come forward now, hands outstretched. "It's okay, Granger, he won't hurt you. Neither of us will hurt you."
Her eyes scan mine, then his, then mine again, wide and terrified. "Get back," she whispers, and I see that her eyes are filling with tears.
Hands still outstretched, I sit down, right on the floor. Watching me, Blaise does the same.
"It's okay," I repeat. "No one is going to hurt you." I turn my palms up and slowly cross my arms, staying a comparatively small figure on the floor in front of her.
But we're still between Granger and the exit. Breathing hard, jaw tight. Shoulders rigid, a lack of books to throw. She looks for the closest rack for more potential ammunition.
I can tell she's trying hard to control herself. She doesn't want to cry in front of us. I dip my head and say, "It's alright, Granger. Zabini here just wanted your opinion on this trilogy he's recommending to me."
Thankfully Blaise has something in his hands because her eyes dart down to the book there, helping validate my story, and back to mine. I speak slowly, trying to be calm and reassuring. "No one will touch you."
She nods once, still suspicious, eyes still a little bright. Her jaw is set but I think if it weren't, I might see her lip tremble.
Fuck. What now?
Well, what worked last time? Distracting her about Hogwarts, for one, but a meal for another. Her favourite meal. It would ordinarily be bizarre if I tried to redirect from a feared sexual assault to dinner, but nothing about these fics is normal.
I turn to Blaise, shifting my whole body to face him, letting her think I'm not interested in anything she does. "Want something to eat, mate?"
He looks at me like I've lost my mind, but nods, following my lead. "Yeah, sure."
I look up, thinking 'three fish and chips, napkins, butterbeer,' and they all appear.
I hand one plate to Blaise on my left, and slide the third across the shop floor in Granger's general area, off to my right. She's not even in my range of vision, but I can hear her cautiously approach it, grab the plate, and retreat. She leaves the goblet of butterbeer and it's probably for the best, as me sliding it had sloshed a fair amount of it over the sides.
I subtly reposition myself so I can see her in my peripherals, and she's seated in a chair, barely.
It's almost identical to the way she sat in the chair I offered her in the Hogwarts library, perched on the very edge as if prepared to leave it behind at a moment's notice. I remember thinking she seemed like a bird poised for flight and she eats like one now, picking tentatively and quickly at the fish.
I know her eyes never leave us, and I make a concerted effort to talk to Blaise exclusively. Total nonsense, this year's Quidditch finals are shaping up, who do we think will take it.
We could leave this fic anytime, just call it done, but I'm somehow reluctant. I don't feel like she's completely decided we mean her no harm and I'm stubbornly refusing to leave without knowing she believes it, believes it of me. But I'm not sure what else to do to enforce the feeling.
I think as we eat, allowing a natural silence to seep in. With a final pathetic gasp, I say, "Aren't fish and chips your favourite, Granger?" I don't give her a chance to answer before asking as a natural followup, "When did you first have them?"
She hesitates. I glance over from the side of my eye and she's swallowing a bite. "I… I don't remember. I must have been young. Probably out with my parents somewhere, but I've always loved fish and chips."
"What do your parents do?" I know her parents are Muggles, obviously. I don't know much else.
A wary look is on her face again, and I curse the fact that ordinarily, a Death Eater would be a danger to her parents. I'm not but I don't know how to express that, and -
"They're dentists," she supplies cautiously.
Blaise steps up, bless him. "What are dentists?" He stuffs several chips in his mouth and looks at me, not her.
"They're - they're Healers for peoples' teeth. Teeth specifically. Muggles don't have the same sort of protective charms we can use."
This is far more detail than I would have expected and I'm encouraged, but I only look at Blaise. His eyebrows are raised, as if to ask, 'what next?' but I'm finally starting to feel better about this.
"Have you ever needed a dentist, Granger?" I ask, letting a slight teasing tone come back into my voice, but still looking at Blaise.
She engages after a heartbeat of silence. "Well, my parents never really let me have sugar. And they didn't believe magic and teeth should mix, so once I got to Hogwarts I just didn't tell them I ate whatever I liked."
"I seem to recall magic and teeth mixing, at least once," I say, and Blaise kicks my foot to shut me up. But I think it's okay, I think she's back to the heckling sort of Granger I know.
"Yes, you tosser, after you hexed me in second year," she snaps, and I almost sigh in relief.
"Seems to me I did you a favour," I return, rising to my feet to set my empty plate on the counter near me. I still look anywhere but at her, just to be safe.
I hear her indignant gasp, and yes - we're back to normal. "You look much better this way, Granger." I smirk at her as I extend a hand to Blaise, helping pull him to his feet, and I relish the blush that rises up her neck and into her cheeks.
"Well, don't mind us," I say casually. "Blaise and I have a double-date to get to. But do let me know if I can help you in the future, Granger. I enjoy helping those who need it."
I shoot her a wink and savour her insulted expression as I look up and say, "Bring us out."
"Fucking hell, Drake," Blaise says immediately once we land back in the cubicle. "You can't let her go into another fic with someone. It's fucking her up."
This is also becoming clear to me. "I don't know what to do about it, though," I say helplessly. "You know I can't stop them from using her."
But Blaise is still on his original thought. "Ginny has never reacted like that."
Well, hang on. "But Ginny's never seen someone she thinks could be a threat to her, that you've been around for. Aside from me in the Leaky Cauldron the other night, that is," I say, brushing this off, "and she tried to hex me straight off with that half-arsed wand."
Blaise considers this. "Alright, fair. Let's see, then. Can you test her, for me this time?"
"You could test her yourself," I counter. "Just go in as Blaise Zabini and see what she does."
He winces and I realise he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to know what she really thinks of him, and I sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. But we already know what she's going to try. It'll have to be somewhere without a wand, somewhere she might feel vulnerable."
Blaise thinks and I elaborate. "Ginny was raised with six brothers. She's tough. She'd used to defending herself generally. Granger is different."
"Are you saying Granger isn't tough?"
"No, of course not," I scoff. "But Granger is an only child who was raised in a pile of books, not older brothers. Granger wants to use her brains to get out of something. Ginny went right for the hex."
He raises his eyebrows and I know I'm about to catch hell. "Even so, she seems to be getting plenty of practice in wishing she could defend herself. Are you saying the two of them aren't the most frequently raped companions? Because they definitely are."
"No, I know that," I try to clarify. "But Ginny went after me as a standard reaction to a Slytherin bully she hated, as a Death Eater who killed Dumbledore. When we were in the Leaky Cauldron, did you get any sense that she was afraid of me because she thought I would attack her specifically?"
"No," he says slowly, "but she was with her boyfriend. She had no reason to think that was about to happen."
We sit in silence for a moment, both thinking. I put my face in my hands and say, "I wish I'd never started going back in. I'd rather Granger just screamed at me and hit me every time."
"This was all a lot easier six weeks ago, wasn't it?" Blaise agrees and I manage a weak laugh.
"Yeah, let's just steal a time-turner from the Ministry and crank things back. We could still get out of this altogether."
But we both know we only sort of mean it.
I'm starting to form some rough ideas, but they're barely a sketch. I have no idea how to accomplish anything, but anything I want to do is going to require this park becoming profitable.
When I arrive for our next financial meeting, there's an additional item on the agenda. But first, we cover the initial results from the new advertising - encouraging, and picking up steam - and the first reviews of the Polyjuice.
As I expected, revenue in what I consider to be the 'companion division' is almost flat. I'll be happy with offsetting the most recent expansion and potion development costs for now, and I confirm with Dolohov and his team that there are no further location expansions currently in design.
Snape's modified imperio is the only thing in active development, and he's still on pace to roll it out for formal testing in about four to six weeks.
In the 'simulation division,' we are seeing a nice pop of growth, driven - I'm certain - by the advertising. Visits from witches alone are up three-fold. It's already more than compensated for the 10% price cut in the fics that we're promoting.
I tell the team to track statistics of repeat business as well as new. I want to know how many people are coming back after they visit once, and what they choose when they do. The same fic? Something different? Are they finding favourites or wanting to test out new things?
I can tell at least half of this is blowing Dolohov's tiny mind. None of this has ever occurred to him. No wonder he was in so much trouble.
I move to dismiss everyone and Dolohov stops me. "Malfoy, one last thing."
I motion for him to take the floor and he demurs. "It's not an announcement or anything. It's just - our overseas buyer approached Severus again about purchasing another one or two of the companions. I wanted to run it by you."
"I appreciate that," I say confidently, masking my caution. "Which ones?"
"Two of the lowest-earning. An older Abbott and the last Winks."
"You said they approached Severus? Does he manage this?" I look at Snape, who nods.
"I volunteered to take it off Dolohov's plate," he says coldly, "but I thought he should mention it here first."
I approve of multitasking. Less overhead of personnel.
I nod to them both. "As long as the requests are for earners in our bottom 5% for companion profits, don't even bring it up. Cut the dead weight."
Snape's dark, hooded eyes scrutinise mine and I keep my walls firmly down, allowing only one thought to float. 'Get rid of them.'
Speaking to the room at large, I finish with, "Keep the advertising running and track the metrics of the incoming guests, fic selections, companion selections, everything. I want a full breakdown of who and what is most popular."
