We land on the Quidditch pitch in full nighttime darkness. It's a little cool out, a slight breeze blowing. It must be overcast; I can't see any stars at all. It's fitting, somehow.

Snape's words echo in my ears

('don't request to be brought out under any circumstances')

and that will be hard to obey. All Granger has wanted from me lately is an escape, and I can't give her this one. I try to prepare myself.

She gives me a merciful reprieve that definitely isn't for me. She sees me at once from probably twenty paces away, giving me a truly evil look, and retreats to Ginny's side to confer quietly.

I wonder what the topic of conversation is at the moment, but now isn't the time to ask. Blaise is coming to speak with me the same way.

"What did he mean about the snake?" Blaise asks, and my brain tries to catch back up. He knows nothing about the details of the Horcruxes.

I do my best to fill him in, ignoring his shocked expression and general noises of dissent.

"She thinks Potter was one, too," I whisper, "and I think she's right; that's why he didn't die when he should have."

"But she doesn't remember that part yet?" he inquires.

"As of the last time I saw her, no," I say hesitantly, then remember something. "But Ginny kept insisting Potter was dead. I think she might have been remembering watching Potter get hit with the killing curse."

Blaise runs a hand over his face in dismay and looks over at the girls warily. "Maybe we'll do best to just sit over there and let them come to us if they want to."

This seems like a sound plan to me, certainly the least intrusive to Granger and Ginny. I choose a spot against the base of one of the grandstands and sit, legs stretched out before me. Blaise does the same.

I keep my wand tucked against my leg in the grass. We won't know when the Dark Lord arrives. We won't know how anything is going with Severus. We won't know anything until we get brought back out, or the Dark Lord arrives here, in which case we're all fucked.

I can't use any significant sort of spell, at all. What am I supposed to do, disarm him?

The girls are wandering around slowly, talking and walking, inspecting. Investigating. I see them checking the details as I did all those months ago, looking for flaws. I wonder how it looks through their eyes.

Blaise and I sit in complete silence as maybe five minutes pass. Then ten. It's hard to tell.

Finally, the girls look over at us from across the pitch. They converse again and slowly begin to walk our way. Blaise and I sit up straighter against the stands.

Granger hangs back slightly, trying not to wring her hands and settles for picking at a thumbnail. Her wild hair is blowing in the breeze, which has begun to pick up. Ginny glances over her shoulder at her, seems to receive some sort of confirmation or reassurance, and speaks.

"What's going on right now? Why are we here?"

This is largely my mess. I take the shot. "We're here right now because the Dark Lord is visiting the park."

"The park?" Ginny's eyebrows shoot up incredulously.

Before she can get stuck on the nomenclature, I stick to what's more pressing at this moment. I look at Granger, who meets my eyes defiantly but doesn't move any closer.

"Longbottom killed the snake."

Her eyes fly open wide and she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

I hurry on before she feels the need to ask. "I don't have details of where or how. Severus received word, and because of that, the Dark Lord is going to want to check on our remaining Resistance captives."

"How will this - being here - avoid him?" Ginny asks.

I look at Blaise, who gives a small shrug. He's as adrift as I am, really.

"We have created… simulated versions of the captives. It's how we've -" I motion between Blaise and myself, "- been able to protect you both for as long as we have. Your simulations are currently in your dormitory. We're hoping the Dark Lord doesn't check any closer than that."

The two girls stare at each other, both too flabbergasted to pick a starting point. They must have dozens of questions from that one statement alone, and Ginny retreats to talk to Granger in private. After a moment, they walk away again, heads tucked close together.

Granger keeps rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she's chilly, and I wish I could do something about it.

Ginny's becoming upset. I can see Granger touch her arm, and Ginny yanks it away. Blaise puts his face in his hands.

They disappear behind one of the stands and instinctively I know they're checking for the boundary line. Why wouldn't they? I see the moment they must find it, Granger's hand held out in front of her, hitting something solidly invisible. They begin to walk along it, hands trailing against the barrier, around the whole of the pitch.

"Drake, what are we supposed to do?" Blaise whispers, and I don't know. I don't know what to do about explaining to them, or about what the next steps for them will be, or what will happen if the Dark Lord decides to check more closely. I don't know what to do about anything.

Not to mention that if things go well topside, we could get brought out of this at any time, without warning. It could be mid-conversation. If they approach us again, I'll need to prepare them for the possibility that we might get involuntarily interrupted.

It's important to me that Granger knows I'm not going to try and dodge her questions any longer.

Eventually, the two girls make their way full circle, back into our rough vicinity. Granger still stays back while Ginny approaches directly. She points a finger at Blaise, who straightens.

"You. You go talk to Hermione," she says coldly, "and you," pointing at me, now, "you stay."

Yes, ma'am. Blaise rises to his feet silently and dips his chin towards Ginny in a deferential manner, ambling over to Granger who is waiting, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Wait," I call out suddenly, and everybody stills. Ginny gives me the most hostile look I've ever seen on someone's face, but I have to get this out.

"If the Dark Lord leaves and everything is fine, Severus is going to remove us from here without notice and send us all back. If that happens, we'll - we'll bring you back into something else to finish this conversation. If you want it. Would you want to give us the chance to explain further? We won't get to ask before it happens."

Ginny and Granger exchange a look, communicating with their eyes, little nods and shakes of heads. Ginny turns back to me. "Yes. If we get interrupted here, we aren't finished with this."

Blaise approaches Granger and she turns to walk away, off to the right, letting him follow her to a distance from Ginny and me. I watch them go, and when I turn back to Ginny, her closed fist hits me square in the mouth at close range.

"You -"

"- foul, despicable piece of shit," I manage to say in unison with her, with a fleeting enjoyment at the look of astonishment on her face. "I know. I don't disagree, Weasley, and it's not the first time you've hit me."

She gives me an incredibly distrustful look and I can't blame her. But this redirect worked; she's not angling to punch me a second time. Yet. I touch my finger to my lip, feeling the split there where it connected with a tooth and wipe away the blood. I'm reasonably pleased that I didn't stagger on my feet this time, as I'm currently sober - unlike the last time she decked me.

It still seems wise to back up a couple of paces, hands up defensively. "You always say the same thing before you hit me or try to curse me. Do you remember?"

Thrown, Ginny tries to think. "I… do?"

Well, she hasn't remembered everything. Not a bad test.

"Does my 'simulation' hit you?" she asks, green eyes narrowed and sharp. Her tone is mocking and I know she still doesn't believe anything I've said.

"I've never tried it," I say honestly, with a weak smile. "And I wasn't involved in their development, besides pushing for it to be done."

Ginny mulls this over, her mouth twisting. She decides to play devil's advocate, I guess. "Why did you?"

I'm going to have to trust that the information Blaise and I are each independently sharing will be exchanged between the girls. These are all things I should be telling Granger, too. But I won't stonewall Ginny, either.

"This… place," I gesture around, "was created to house the captive Resistance fighters. Before long, Death Eaters and other generally vile people wanted a chance to… visit the captives."

I leave this deliberately vague, trusting that Ginny can get there on her own. She can. Her eyes widen, her lips tighten.

"The Obliviation was mentally necessary if people were to be able to… repeat their preferred visits. So before long, it became a venue of entertainment. I was not involved then; Dolohov suggested it and ran it, and he brought Blaise and me in for financial funding before he ran it into the ground."

I've gotten somewhat off-topic of the original question, why did I push for the simulations, but this seems like pertinent foundation to cover. Ginny's piercing look could cut me in two, and I leave my walls down. She's no Legilimens, but I know how it looks when someone is blocking you deliberately. She might not know, but I won't risk it.

"I enjoyed visiting Granger. Lovegood, too. I never had any intent to harm them. Granger would yell at me, scream, slap me. I found it… I don't know. Cathartic, I guess. I felt like shit all the time anyway, and she'd tell me all about it." I keep my eyes on Ginny, uncomfortable though it is. I'm leaving the timeline of all this equally vague. I'll answer if she asks, but I don't want to spell it out.

"Snape is involved, helping move captives to the outside under the cover of selling them to wealthy families as slaves. Blaise and I have been financially propping the park up to avoid suspicion of that, allowing the simulated versions of captives to provide the entertainment while the live captives are smuggled out. There's a few more nuanced financial angles to it, but that's basically it."

I'm also declining to mention that I never gave a fuck about any captive but Granger, Lovegood, and more recently, Ginny. I wasn't propping up this park for any reason other than them.

"So Dolohov wanted…" she trails off and I'm clearly meant to supply the rest.

"Dolohov enjoys the park for its original, true purpose: abuse of the captives. Snape was here nearly from the start, helping with the Obliviation, coordinating Healers -" at this, Ginny's bright eyes spark with interest again, but I keep going, "- and working with the undercover Resistance in Europe. Dolohov has no idea about any of that. He wanted the park to remain afloat purely for his own success and enjoyment of it."

"Who is left here?" she whispers intently. "Hermione and I. Ron? Harry?"

"Yes to both," I sigh, "for now. You'll be moved very soon, though. Snape's been working on your release for some time."

"How?"

"You were considered one of the four premier attractions. I'm sure you understand why. In order to dispel suspicion and make your 'sale' seem plausible, we created the simulations to run all of your bookings -"

"- 'Bookings'," Ginny cuts in. "Like a whore."

"Yes," I say simply. "The simulations do that for you, now. We charge for those as well, but less. Zabini has been paying for the difference in the revenue you bring in with his own money so no one notices your physical absence."

This gives her pause and I see her turn it over in her mind.

"At any rate, with a large enough 'offer' from a supposed buyer, we can make the argument that it's financially beneficial to offload you. Housing the captives is expensive and affects the bottom line of the park. Your simulation brings in less money but has no cost associated with it."

Ginny's staring off to the left, now, past my shoulder. I wonder what she's seeing. I wonder if I should give her a few minutes to process all of this when she asks, "What about Hermione? Ron, or Harry?"

Gently, I say, "The Dark Lord doesn't give a toss about the park or the entertainment it provides his followers. He's interested in it as a prison. He only accepts the 'sale' of lower-valued captives because he believes they're going to wealthy families overseas as slaves to continue the abuse, isolated and scattered to the wind. No matter what the proposed financial benefit to the park may be, you know the Dark Lord will never let Potter or Granger go."

Ginny's beautiful, freckled face starts to crumple, and I give her the only good news I can. "I think we have a chance at Ron, though. A slim one," I caution, "but I don't think the Dark Lord ever saw him as dangerous in his own right, separated from Potter."

She sucks in a deep breath as she gathers herself back together and turns a slow circle, looking around her. It's completely dark outside. I have no idea what time it is but it was late when Blaise and I were leaving the pub.

I wonder what's going on outside this fic, and how much longer we'll be in here. The temperature is continuing to drop.

"So all this…" Ginny waves a hand around, "is fake?"

I nod. "Mostly, although we are actually outside here. We put a lot of development into the locations and simulations. This can allow a full simulated Quidditch match, opponents, crowd, everything."

"Amazing," she breathes. "But why? Why bother?"

"I don't know why Dolohov started some of them, to be honest," I reply, "but I had them enhance and expand many of them. The ones that could be used to generate revenue not off the backs of raping our captives."

It's the first time either of us has said it outright, and she winces.

I try to stick with the Quidditch example for her benefit. "Zabini's sold customised versions of this to the individual Hogwarts houses for Quidditch practice and to over half the professional teams in the league. They can use it for skills training, weather exposure, anything. They pay a monthly fee to access their unique pitch and the simulations. It really helped our bottom line."

Ginny scrutinises me again. "The bottom line that helped cover the loss of our physical revenue."

"Yes," I say bluntly.

She walks away from me now, a few paces, and I give her as much time as she needs. Finally, she looks over her shoulder at me. "I don't want to play, obviously, but how would it work?"

I think for a Quidditch kit, and after a brief moment, one appears on the ground in the space between us. Ginny gasps and drops to her knees in the grass, searching through what came.

"I'd think for a crowd, too, but I don't want to startle Granger over there," I tell her with a small smile. "Who knows how far Zabini's gotten with explaining things."

Still on her knees on the ground, Ginny looks up at me. "Why did you do this to her?" she asks softly, wringing a Quidditch robe in her hands as if she could make it a noose.

"I didn't put her here, Ginny. And I can't get her out," I insist, my voice just as low as hers. "I've done the best I can to protect her, though. No one harms her - harms either of you, now. We've tried to give you both something to do, some company. I know it feels like nothing at all, because you're still here, but - but at least you'll be out soon."

"Assuming you're right about all that," she dismisses me entirely, "why Granger? Did you know how she felt about you in school? Was she the easy choice to exploit for you? The 'golden girl', and all that rot?"

How she felt about me at school? We'd talked about this, some, I'd never pressed for further details. It feels like a weight is off my shoulders, which is ridiculous given the current situation.

"No, I didn't know how she felt about me at school," I answer, trying to choose my words carefully. "And I could never have guessed that she'd ever want to do anything other than hate me."

"So why make her fall for you?"

My heart leaps as I consider the words, and Ginny doesn't hesitate to layer over it. "It was cruel, to do what you did. Now she has no idea what's real and what isn't, how long she might have been with you that she can't even remember, how many times. How could you do that? If she couldn't - if she didn't know -"

"I swear to you, Ginny, I never touched her before her memory began to return. I never so much as put a hand on her shoulder. I never would have."

"How can I believe that?" she asks persistently. "How can she ever believe it?"

She's completely right, of course, and I look at my shoes in shame. But that's not all Ginny has for me.

"You've harmed her too, Malfoy. Maybe not physically, but you have."

This is a punch to the gut that I deserve, but it still takes my breath away. Ginny's right about this too. Not to mention all the times I've stood by and let someone else harm Granger while I did nothing.

With a hard exhale, I sit down, too. Ginny is still close to the Quidditch kit, a few paces away, and we both seem fine with the silence for now. I look over to where Granger is still talking to Blaise and eventually realise Ginny is following my line of sight.

"What does Blaise have to do with any of this?" she asks finally, and I'm grateful for the subject change.

"Dolohov approached him for money, just like he did me. Blaise had always hated the idea of the park, just like I did. But Dolohov said if he couldn't turn things around financially, he'd just 'get rid of' the captives to save the expense of keeping, housing, feeding, Healing you."

Ginny's eyes widen again in alarm, almost involuntarily.

"Blaise and I were both worried that you'd all be killed. Maybe death would be better; probably it would. But we agreed to invest and re-work the revenue streams anyway. I couldn't stand the idea of Granger being killed and Blaise - well, Blaise loves you," I say simply. "Even if he's not telling you that because you don't fancy him back, or he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or whatever else. He's been in love with you for years."

I let this land and disseminate across Ginny's features.

"In the meantime, he helped with the revenue problem, as I said. He pulled you out and away from any physical interactions and paid the difference of having your simulation present in your place, so no one would notice changes in your revenue stream. He's been spending nearly every galleon he has on this park every month, for you.

"He's going to be devastated when you leave, but he won't stand in your way. He's helping facilitate it, even though he knows he'll probably never see you again. Even if he does, you'll probably never speak to him."

Ginny's green eyes are bright with tears and she swipes at them angrily. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. You were never meant to. You were supposed to be 'sold' and smuggled out, never having been any the wiser. But you did start to remember, and now here we are," I sigh.

"What did Blaise think would happen?"

Quizzically, I look at her. "Aside from what I just told you?"

"No, in the time he's been spending with me," Ginny corrects me impatiently. "What did he hope was going to happen?"

"Oh, I don't know," I heave out another breath. "That you'd realise you're falling madly in love with him too, and after you were free he could search you out to live somewhere happily ever after?"

I try to muffle a snort and fail. Ginny looks shocked. "I don't really know, Weasley. To be honest, neither Zabini nor I have been living much beyond a week at a time for months. The time we've spent with the two of you has been… the only good spot, anywhere, for either of us. I don't think he ever had distant hopes and dreams of a future together. I know I haven't. We're both happy to spend any minute we can with you. That's it."

I avoid Ginny's contemplative gaze, uncomfortable. Blaise and Granger are walking back towards us and I shove myself ruthlessly to my feet. "Just a couple of lovesick wankers, that's all we are."

Blaise is giving me a look I should probably be able to decipher; if it was between Ginny and Granger, I'm sure they'd know exactly what the other was trying to say, but I'm more clueless than that. Granger, however, strides right past him, stopping closer to me than she has all night.

"You have a wand," she says directly, eyes flashing.

I nod, obediently.

"Give it to me."

I hesitate and she stamps her foot in frustration. I hold up a cautionary hand. "Granger, it wouldn't work like you want anyhow - I'm sure Zabini gave you some details."

He nods his head from behind her, and I keep going. "And I'm happy to let you hex me to the fullest extent of the wand here, except for the fact that we still don't know if the Dark Lord is going to appear in the middle of this Quidditch pitch at any moment."

We'd discussed this possibility when we all arrived here, but it's clear it's been pushed to the back of everybody's mind. It makes all three of them freeze.

Blaise looks distinctly uncomfortable. The girls look frightened, and I imagine I would be too, without a wand.

Even so. I couldn't risk him showing up here and being unable to protect her. The odds of my death would be high, but at least I'd be between him and her.

"If you want me to bring you into another place later for you to curse me, I'll do it, Granger. I swear. But for now, we both know that of the two of us, I'm the better duellist. If it comes down to it, I should have the wand."

All four of us stand in silence, listening to the slight breeze drifting through this black night, this dark pitch.

"What do you think is happening out there?" Blaise finally asks and Granger shivers again. I cast a silent warming charm on her, and she shoots me a malevolent look. I give her a feeble half-shrug. Sorry.

"Hard to say. I feel like something should have happened by now, though. Either he arrived later than Severus expected, or he's being more thorough than we hoped. I don't know," I say quietly.

"I hate being blind like this," he says, and I agree fervently.

More silence.

Finally, I say out of sheer desperation, "Should we pass the time? We could… play Snap or something."

Granger whirls on me, mercilessly. "Snap?! Go fuck yourself, Malfoy. I have nothing to say to you," she hisses. "Come on, Ginny."

The two of them walk further away, speaking in close voices again. I suppose that's what I should have expected but it still hurts. I try to shove it down and focus; now I can ask Blaise what they talked about, and tell him about my conversation with Ginny.

"That must have gone well," I say weakly, plopping back down on the grass. "Mine went better than I expected with Ginny."

"Clever of them, the divide-and-conquer method," Blaise comments with a wry smile, one eyebrow lifted.

"No shock there," I mutter. "What did Granger ask about?"

"Where we are, why we're here, the logistics of it, the magic behind it. It was half genuine curiosity and half horror, I think."

"That's it?" I say in genuine surprise.

"Oh, not even close," Blaise continues, offhand. "She's hard to keep up with."

Tell me about it. "What else?"

"How did we all end up here: you, me, them. Who's left."

Plenty of that I'd already told her, or tried to. She was undoubtedly trying to verify what I'd said. Good. That's good.

"What do you think the chances are that we're in trouble here?" he asks.

I know he's referring to the Dark Lord, because we're both fully aware that we are absolutely in trouble with the girls. I answer both.

"I think if he was going to show up here, he would have. I'm cautiously optimistic. But with Granger… we're in tremendous trouble, I'd say. I am, at least."

He looks at me seriously. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave her alone, I expect. It's what she wants. The part I hate most is that once Ginny leaves, she's going to be entirely alone in that dorm. Maybe I'll be able to find some way to leave her a note through Severus, saying if she ever does want some company, to send it back with a dinner plate to the house elves in the kitchen. I don't know. What else can I do?"

I've been absently pulling blades of grass out by the roots next to me. I've created a small pile of it as we've been talking and I brush it away, scattering it with the back of my hand.

We sit quietly for another moment or two before Blaise says, "I could always go back in as Potter, check her state of mind. Give her some company on occasion."

"Yeah, maybe s -" I start before Ginny's icy voice comes from behind us.

"What do you mean, 'go back in as Potter?'"

We both jump in surprise. I see Blaise's throat swallow and I close my eyes. Here we go.

I slowly stand to my feet, feeling slightly more sure of myself this way, and extend a hand to Blaise. Both girls are standing behind us, immovable as granite.

Ginny's question was directed at Blaise, but I take it. "One of the… methods people could use here was to Polyjuice as another captive."

Ginny looks fully flummoxed by why this would be desirable for anybody, but Granger's hand goes back to her mouth, revolted. Of course she saw the implication instantly. Brilliant witch.

"So… I would think I was with… Ron," Granger says weakly, her face aghast. Her hand is now pressed against her collarbone as if she can slow her own rapid breathing that way.

"Essentially, yes," I say, "but we'd pulled you both out of things by then." There was a fair bit of grey-area overlap in this timeline where their hours were only limited, but they hadn't been fully remembering at the time.

Ginny's gone pale, deathly white against her freckles. Moving slow, she pivots to face Blaise squarely and he tugs at his collar as if wishing it could strangle him instead. "You said… 'go back in as Potter.'"

Blaise is mute, but gamely meeting her eyes. He nods.

"Just how many times have you 'gone in as Potter?'" she hisses, and we both know she's putting it all together. How much has she questioned, doubted, and discarded before this, thinking she must be going mad? How often?

To his credit, Blaise swallows hard and inhales, readying himself. "A fair number of times. Many times. I'm sorry, Gin -"

But she socks him in the face so hard, he wheels back. I can't even enjoy that he cannot, in fact, take her punches any better than I can.

"Fuck you," she spits at him, incredulous, disbelieving. "How could you?"

Blaise is bent at the waist, holding his eye. He's not as tall as I am, so she didn't land that one on his jaw and I know he's going to have a hell of a shiner. "I'm sor -"

"Don't say it," Ginny screams at him in her fury.

She rushes at him again, shoving him backward with both palms. He rocks back into the stands behind us, his back hitting it with a loud smack as the canvas ripples with the impact. I move to grab her, hold her arms, something, but Granger steps in between us and I stop.

"Don't you dare," she says to me coldly. "She's earned this."

The set of Granger's jaw, her completely blank and empty eyes, her white lips pressed so thin they might not be there. At some point she'd put her hair back in a plait, probably to avoid the wind, and it forces my eyes to her face but I can't hold her gaze.

I can only look at Blaise, holding his hands up in a weak physical defence, but Ginny's dissolved into tears.

She puts a hand over her eyes and almost staggers away, doubling over to cry. Granger goes to her at once, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Ginny wraps her arms around her only friend, hitching with sobs, choking, and Granger leads her away with a final nasty look at me. At us.

There is no question what she would do with a wand if she had one.

Blaise is likewise bent over, hands on his knees. I discreetly look the other way as he throws up into the grass and that's twice now this Quidditch pitch has been vomited on.

He must hate to puke as much as I do because he immediately strides off in the opposite direction. I wonder briefly whether I ought to try and keep up or give him space, and decide that ultimately, he needs a friend more than he needs to smother in solitary self-loathing.

"Come on," I say quietly from behind his right shoulder, gesturing behind one of the stands.

It's dark and quiet and we can pretend, maybe just for a few minutes, that we're just sitting here.

Until, that is, Ginny's primal, drawn-out scream of "FUCK!" ricochets around the pitch. I see Blaise physically cringe into himself, hands over his face.

"Why isn't this over yet?" he whispers miserably into the blackness around us. "How much longer can this take?"

At this point, I don't think either of us would mind the Dark Lord showing up to murder us both, if only the girls weren't here.