XVIII. Unravelling
"This coffee's just as revolting as it's always been," Reggie Proudfoot announced in a bored tone, casting a disdainful look at his steaming mug.
"It's on the house," John Dawlish, his partner, retorted as though that justified everything. "Besides, haven't you been off coffee for 87 days now?"
Blinking in surprise, Reggie massaged his tired eyes. The previous night's events had left him drained, both physically and mentally.
"Honestly Dawlish, you give me the creeps with these details," Reggie sighed, a mix of annoyance and morbid fascination flickering in his gaze.
John remained silent. His colleagues at the Ministry were all too familiar with his peculiar ability—once he committed information to memory, it was impossible for him to forget it. Mediwizards had identified his condition as hyperthymesia—a rare disorder. Since turning twelve, he had been able to remember every single day of his life in the minutest detail without any effort. Dates held no mystery for John. He could recall the day of the week, his precise attire, even the menu from any given day. Yet, this wasn't a blessing, but a relentless burden.
Occasionally, he too wished he could forget. Ordinary individuals couldn't fathom how much he envied them. He was unable to detach himself from his past. Unpleasant memories, vivid and inescapable, clung to him like unwelcome shadows. He was perpetually haunted by the day he discovered his ex-wife in bed with a stranger. Every minor detail, from the hue of the sky on that day to the obscene words his ex-wife hurled as her lover earnestly mounted her, was permanently etched in his mind. The mole on the stranger's right buttock was something he hadn't forgotten either.
Nonetheless, John had come to terms with his condition, which was both a blessing and a curse. It proved to be an invaluable asset in his professional life. Serving as a senior investigator in the Auror Office for over fifteen years, he boasted a case resolution rate significantly higher than his colleagues. For a bit of fun, his colleagues had dubbed him the 'living archive'. Yet, they readily turned to him for information, glad to bypass the tedious hours of trawling through case files.
Stepping into a cosy Diagon Alley cafe, Reggie's demeanour shifted slightly. He took a grateful sip of his chosen beverage, a flicker of cheer replacing his earlier weariness.
"So, why this detour?" he asked, curiosity piqued. "Weren't we supposed to return to the scene?"
John shook his head.
"No need. I've got all the details in my head," he replied.
"Of course, what an absurd question on my part," Reggie remarked, rolling his eyes.
He dabbed at his receding hairline, suddenly looking uneasy, an uncomfortable spark in his large blue eyes.
"Twenty years on the force, and nothing compares to this," he confessed, grimacing.
John offered a grim nod of silent understanding. He and Reggie, along with other Aurors, had been the first responders at the Chimera Palace blast, a scene etched into their memories with horrifying clarity.
The initial report had listed fourteen dead and forty-three wounded, with several critically injured, hinting at an expected rise in the death toll over the following days. An unprecedented event for most officers at the Bureau.
The chaos John had witnessed at the scene remained vivid in his mind. The extent of mutilation on some bodies left little behind but remnants of human flesh, laid bare for all to behold. John pondered the agony of families who would mourn their dead, deprived even of a whole body for burial.
The Chimera Palace explosion wasn't just another case; it was a grim milestone. Marking the deadliest Pureblood attack in over a century, it cast a long, chilling shadow on John's Auror career. The theory of an accident was swiftly dismissed by the forensic Mediwizards at the scene; the explosion was deemed a criminal act.
Several key witness accounts had been collected to pinpoint the culprit. A woman in her twenties, donned in a service employee's uniform, was seen. A witness reported hearing her utter 'Liberty and Dignity' right before the blast—the Dissidents' slogan. Hexdemolition experts concluded that the bomb, albeit made from rudimentary materials, was expertly assembled. Their analysis suggested the device malfunctioned, triggering a more immediate explosion than intended.
"It seems the bomber intended to plant the device and escape before detonation. However, things didn't go as planned," the deputy head of the bomb-disposal wizards briefed. "A basic understanding of explosives would have averted such an error."
"Karma," Reggie muttered to himself.
John remained pensive, a furrow etching his brow deeper. The woman's apparent amateurism gnawed at him. While the bomb itself was crude, the timing mechanism suggested a more practiced hand. Could there be another, unseen manipulator pulling the strings?
"Heads will roll for this, you can count on it," Reggie assured, devouring a cupcake in one gulp as they strolled down the shopping lane.
Security had been laxer than warranted, causing disquiet among some Bureau members. With perceived risks low, inexperienced recruits were tasked with security. Early-arriving staff evaded proper screening, and critical exits remained unmonitored – a glaring lapse for an event of the Hellebore Ball's magnitude. Though the Thirteen emerged unscathed, the breach was chilling. Dissidents infiltrating their proximity – an unthinkable audacity. John, hardened by years at the Bureau, understood the desperate measures they'd take to deflect blame.
"Radio silence in the press," Reggie commented.
That didn't surprise John in the slightest. It was routine for the authorities to quash reports of any dissent against the regime. Granting the Dissidents a platform could fuel fear and ignite unrest. Incidents involving attacks on the Death Eaters thus remained shrouded from public view. Yet, John was aware that the magnitude of this attack was too significant to be entirely suppressed. The sheer number of witnesses made complete silence an impossibility. Word of the incident would inevitably spread through the populace like wildfire.
The outcry for answers resonated. The Coven, guardians of order, couldn't tolerate this erosion of control. Maintaining an image of unwavering power was paramount. Consequently, every squad within the Bureau was mobilized under the directive of Rodolphus Lestrange, the Head of the Auror Office, turning the investigation into something of a race.
"We need to make our way back to the Ministry," Reggie stated, inspecting his enchanted timepiece with a concerned expression.
All Aurors were issued a similar watch, enchanted to receive mass messages instantaneously. They were pulsating with an ominous red glow, displaying the unmistakable summons: report back immediately. John felt a jolt of apprehension as he mirrored Reggie's movement, their boots echoing in the hurried pace towards the Ministry.
Merely ten minutes later, they were navigating the bustling corridors of the Ministry. The Bureau buzzed with frenetic activity, a storm brewing within its stone walls. Aurors swarmed the vast hall, their hurried movements and grim expressions painting a picture of unfolding crisis.
"The perpetrator of the suicide bombing has been identified," Pieters Savage, the Head of Criminal Investigations, announced. "We've linked her to the scene through fragments of her wand found among the debris. Records show she was on the staff roster that day. Her likeness matches the descriptions given by several witnesses."
John took the parchment, his gaze falling upon the woman's face. Unassuming, almost ordinary. It was hard to reconcile this image with the perpetrator of such devastation.
Name: Hannah Boot, née Abbott.
Classification: Half-Blood
"Commence interrogations with anyone who might have even the slightest connection to this terrorist," Savage commanded. "Her relatives, acquaintances, her educators. Leave no stone unturned. Should her pet cat harbour dissident sympathies, I expect to be informed."
/
Draco had never seen his mother show much in the way of emotions. Yet, since the news of the explosion at the Chimera Palace broke, Narcissa Malfoy had been visibly shaken. Upon Draco's late-night return to the Manor, he found his mother on the brink of hysteria. Narcissa embraced him tightly, a gesture conveying her deep concern and relief simultaneously. Too drained to speak, Draco simply returned his mother's embrace.
Narcissa had always been fiercely protective of Draco. Those close to her knew well that she turned into a formidable lioness where her family—and especially her son—were concerned. Draco knew that his mother harboured guilt for sending him to represent the Malfoys at the ball. He dared not contemplate how she would have coped had he been harmed.
Lucius, on the other hand, remained impassive as he listened to Draco recount his experience. His grey eyes retained their usual cold, distant gaze—a look perpetually reserved for his son. The gulf between father and son was nothing new; Draco had long resigned himself to the absence of any warmth from Lucius.
For years, Draco had sought Lucius's approval, to no avail. A specific incident had made Draco realise that his father harboured nothing but incomprehensible contempt for him. Accepting this harsh truth, Draco had convinced himself that he was unaffected by his father's indifference. Yet, that evening, he nurtured a faint hope that Lucius might display some emotion upon learning of his son's narrow escape. But when this hope was dashed, Draco had to suppress the sharp pang of disappointment. A part of him rebuked himself for expecting anything from the man who had fathered him.
The hours that followed saw Draco lying awake, too agitated to sleep. Narcissa's insistence that the family Mediwizard check him over did little to ease his restlessness, although she seemed somewhat reassured by the confirmation of his well-being. With the dawn, Lucius departed for an urgent meeting with the Sacred Coven and the other Governors, leaving Draco feeling uneasily apprehensive. His thoughts briefly turned to Ginny Weasley, stirring curiosity about her welfare at Pansy's. He pushed the image aside, needing to steel his focus for the task at hand: gathering intelligence on the attack and the Coven's response.
His restlessness continued for the next few days, until Narcissa delivered Lucius's briefing. A wave of relief washed over Draco as his mother revealed that the culprit behind the attack had been identified.
"The Auror Office is facing criticism for security lapses," she informed him, with a trace of annoyance flickering in her eyes. "This catastrophe could have been averted if they had fulfilled their responsibilities adequately."
It appeared that Governor Warrington's office, and by extension, her team, were not under suspicion. Consequently, there was no reason to interrogate Ginny Weasley.
"It turns out the attacker was a deranged dissident, known for her mental instability," Narcissa added, her voice dripping with disdain.
Draco was taken aback to learn that the Sacred Coven intended to allow the press to cover the attack. The aim was to further malign the Dissidents, portraying them as villains who target the innocent.
Despite his eagerness for more information, Draco refrained from pressing his mother any further. The incident had visibly shaken her, and he had no desire to exacerbate her stress. Observing his mother, Draco noted with concern that he had never before seen Narcissa in such disarray. Her usually immaculate blonde hair was tousled, her complexion pallid, and dark shadows underscored her eyes. She had not ventured from the Manor since the incident.
"This Phoenix character and their followers pose a far greater threat than the Coven had anticipated," she remarked tersely, her lips a tight line.
Her irritation was palpable; however, Draco wondered if her frustration was aimed at the Sacred Coven. Narcissa had her own views on the Coven and its decisions but typically kept mum on such topics, especially in Lucius's presence.
"Do you believe the Dissidents might escalate their activities?" Draco inquired.
The notion that the Dissidents could mount a formidable challenge had never occurred to him. He had always regarded them as a ragtag group of anarchists, their actions causing minimal, superficial damage. It dawned on him that they were far from the ineffectual force the Government had portrayed.
"I'm not certain, Draco," Narcissa answered gravely. "What I do know is that the Coven is in a state of alarm like I've never seen before. And I dread what may follow."
While his mother's words should have sparked concern, Draco, paradoxically, felt a sense of relief. He was safe, for now, and his covert operations remained under wraps. What would Narcissa think if she discovered his alliance with a blood traitor to spy on a Governor? Draco understood that significant rewards often entail substantial risks. He was confident that, in time, his mother would commend his actions. Until then, his priority was to gather damning evidence against Warrington and her entourage.
Dobby, a house elf, entered the room, trailed by a woman. Draco instantly recognized his mother's personal aide, Allegra McGrath. Allegra's eyes briefly widened in surprise upon seeing Narcissa, a reaction swiftly masked by professionalism.
"Power and purity," Allegra greeted, with due formality.
Draco found Allegra's presence at the Manor over the weekend, especially under the current circumstances, intriguing. Yet, knowing his mother's relentless work ethic, he wasn't surprised she sought refuge in her duties amidst the turmoil.
"Miss McGrath and I have urgent documents to finalize for an upcoming project," Narcissa explained, her gaze flitting to Allegra's confirming nod. "We'll be in the study."
"Understood. Look after yourself, Mother," Draco responded.
Narcissa kissed his cheek before departing with Allegra.
/
Ginny had never envisioned finding solace in Pansy Parkinson's company. Yet, amidst these tumultuous times, she found herself in dire need of just that—a diversion. This escape, however remote, allowed her to momentarily detach from the grim reality outside.
"I desperately need a shopping spree," Pansy declared with a flourish, joining Ginny on the couch and heaving a dramatic sigh.
"Again?" Ginny replied, incredulous. "But you had one the day before yesterday."
The previous shopping trip, an eternity ago by Pansy's standards, had felt like an endurance test. Every outfit, every accessory, had demanded Ginny's meticulous analysis, leaving her mentally drained.
"I couldn't possibly go a day without indulging," Pansy asserted, her lips pouting like a child denied her whims. "I'm beginning to experience withdrawal symptoms."
Sighing resignedly, Ginny offered nothing but a bewildered look. After spending nearly three days in Pansy's presence, nothing about her could surprise Ginny anymore. Pansy was unquestionably a breed apart. Ginny had never encountered anyone so blissfully ignorant of the world's realities, living as if in a bubble.
When a team of stylists descended on Pansy's lavish penthouse, a wave of helplessness overwhelmed Ginny. Refusal, she knew, was an empty threat in Pansy's world.
"You're desperately in need of a wardrobe refresh. My closet's running low on anything suitable for you," Pansy noted, her brows arching in mock worry.
Ginny bristled, uncertain whether the concern was genuine or merely another veiled barb. Was this Pansy's attempt at an olive branch, or a cunning power play?
"I really can't afford it," Ginny confessed, her discomfort evident.
"Don't fret, my treat," Pansy assured, grinning.
Ginny grimaced, the thought of being indebted to someone making her uneasy.
"I really shouldn't," Ginny persisted.
"Refusing a gift is quite rude, you realise," Pansy commented.
"Very well," Ginny conceded, eager to sidestep another altercation with her.
From the corner of her eye, Ginny spotted the triumphant look on Benedict's face—a brand's employee who was likely reaping a handsome profit from Pansy Parkinson's extravagance. Pansy's smile broadened triumphantly as she approached a clothing rack, perusing the selection.
"It's like my social initiative in my final year at Hogwarts—aiding the less fortunate," she said, her enthusiasm overdone.
Holding a dress up to Ginny, Pansy examined the fit. "Draco will appreciate this," she mused, "He's quite fond of this style."
Ginny's face flushed a deep red.
"His preferences matter little to me," she declared with conviction.
"Naturally, his preferences are of no concern to you," Pansy retorted, her voice laden with sarcasm as she resumed her search.
Ginny resigned to being shuffled from one fitting to the next. Thankfully, this session proved shorter than the last, Pansy's patience for Ginny's reluctance thinning. Nonetheless, Pansy insisted on purchasing the outfits at a sum she dared not contemplate. She merely expressed her gratitude.
When Pansy vanished into her dressing room with Waterford, Ginny seized the moment to enjoy some solitude. She retreated to her temporary quarters and flopped onto the bed, her thoughts inevitably drifting towards her family and friends. She worried Hermione might be fretting over her prolonged silence, especially after the vague letter she'd sent. Hermione had no idea where Ginny really was and would not be able to communicate with her.
A couple of hours later, a gentle knock on the door roused Ginny from her restless sleep, echoes of the ball still dancing in her dreams. She sat up, grogginess lingering in her limbs, and called out for the visitor to enter. Waterford, Pansy's elf, appeared at the doorway.
"Miss Weasley, you are requested in the sitting room," he informed her courteously.
A sigh escaped Ginny's lips as she wondered what new demand Pansy had in store. Were her attempts at finding peace doomed to constant interruption? Stepping into the living room, she froze, her heart leaping into her throat at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing there. Their eyes locked for a moment, a charged silence filling the air. Pansy cleared her throat, shattering the tension. Ginny tore her gaze away from Draco, a quick nod in his direction the only acknowledgement she could muster. She turned her attention away, surprised by the wave of relief that washed over her at his unexpected presence.
Pansy's voice dripped with barely concealed annoyance as she crossed her arms. "About time, Draco," she snapped. "Recall our two-day agreement? While you've been off doing Voldemort knows what, I've had to pause my life to look after your tart..."
She paused and turned to Ginny, "No offence intended, dear," she said casually, devoid of any remorse.
Ginny simply shrugged. Pansy lacked any semblance of tact, and Ginny had swiftly learned not to take offence at her barbs and backhanded compliments.
"I'm aware, and I apologise. Things took more time than I had anticipated," Draco replied, exhaustion evident in his voice.
Ginny was surprised to hear Draco extend an apology to Pansy, unveiling a side of him she hadn't foreseen.
"Does this mean we're no longer confined?" Pansy inquired, her impatience thinly veiled.
"It's settled. You're free to go," Draco confirmed tiredly.
Relief washed over Ginny, whereas Pansy nearly squealed in delight.
"Praise Voldemort. This calls for a celebration... a night out it is!"
"I don't think that's the best ide—" Draco started to object.
Pansy pressed a manicured finger to her lips, quelling any further objections from Draco.
"Recall our little arrangement? You're in my debt," she stated, raising an eyebrow with a sly glint in her eyes. "Tonight, I'm in charge."
"Very well," Draco conceded, his tone one of resigned acceptance.
Once more, Ginny found herself intrigued by his passive demeanour. The excitement emanating from Pansy was tangible as she clapped her hands gleefully.
"Leave everything to me. I'll arrange it all," she declared, beaming.
Pausing at the door, Pansy wore a triumphant smirk. "By the way, Draco, just a friendly reminder – we indulged in some retail therapy in your absence. Consider it a prepayment towards your 'debt'."
She made her way towards the staircase leading to the upper floor, giving Ginny a conspiratorial wink as she passed. Draco turned to Ginny, who wore a look of apology, as though she wanted to make it clear she hadn't been part of Pansy's spending spree.
"No need, I'm all too familiar with her antics," he reassured, preempting any explanation she might have offered.
After a moment's hesitation, Ginny crossed the sitting room to stand beside him. She couldn't help noticing the weariness that seemed to burden him, clearly a sign of stress from recent events.
"So, what's the latest?" Ginny inquired, her voice tinged with concern.
"The perpetrator's been identified—Hannah Boot, a Half-Blood," he elaborated, as though that detail significantly illuminated the situation.
Ginny quickly pieced together that Anabel wasn't the woman's true identity.
"It seems there won't be any scrutiny directed at Warrington's operation. We're out of the woods," he stated, his tone conveying a steady calm.
"Thank you," Ginny breathed out, relieved.
"This whole affair underscores the need for greater precautions," Draco said, gravely.
"What do you mean?"
"That our agreement remains strictly between us," he said.
"I've told no one," Ginny quickly assured him.
"I'm aware. However, I'm not willing to gamble on the chance of someone prying that information from you, willingly or otherwise," Draco asserted.
Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion, unsure of his implication.
"Are you familiar with Legilimency?" Draco inquired.
Ginny emphatically shook her head, signalling her lack of knowledge.
"It's a technique for delving into someone's mind to retrieve thoughts, memories, or feelings," Draco clarified.
Ginny's expression turned to one of shock. She had never heard of such a method, but she could already sense its dangerous potential. The concept of such an invasion was foreign and deeply unsettling to her.
"But there's a defence against it, known as Occlumency. It's a skill that shields your mind from such intrusions," he continued. "And I want you to learn it."
"Alright," Ginny consented, relieved at the availability of a safeguard. "Is it difficult?"
"It's challenging, yet with appropriate training, you should reach a satisfactory proficiency level," he speculated, though his assurance appeared less than absolute.
"Can you perform Occlumency then?" Ginny asked.
Draco nodded. "I was taught at an early age. I'm not a skilled Legilimens but I know the basics, and that should be enough for your training," he indicated.
Draco then retrieved an item from his cloak pocket and presented it to her. It was her wand, which he had confiscated days earlier.
"This belongs to you. However, remember, it's not required for strengthening your mind," he cautioned.
"What exactly should I do?" Ginny inquired, eagerness evident in her determined expression.
She knew mastering it wouldn't be straightforward. Concealing her emotions had never been her strong suit, making the prospect of Occlumency daunting.
"Begin by clearing your mind. Try not to focus on anything specific," Draco advised.
Before Ginny could contemplate the process of emptying her mind, Draco pointed his wand at her, declaring, "Legilimens!"
Ginny was instantly engulfed by a peculiar feeling. Her mind raced through various images, making her feel like an observer. The vision of flames engulfing a section of the Chimera Palace was stark in her mind. Other, more trivial scenes followed, like her extravagant shopping session with Pansy, or the last Deathtrack race she had witnessed.
Could he access all her memories and thoughts? She struggled to avoid fixating on anything overly private or personal. Yet, her thoughts uncontrollably drifted to their private conversation during the ball, secluded from others. She visualised him again, his gaze intense, leaning closer as though on the verge of a kiss. The same mix of anticipation and confusion from that moment washed over her.
Panicking, Ginny jerked and shook her head, disrupting the flow of memories. She glanced up at Draco, feeling exposed and uncomfortably transparent. Draco's self-satisfied expression confirmed he had witnessed the memory. Ginny's cheeks blazed, mirroring the colour of her hair. This was excruciatingly embarrassing. What would he think? That she was incessantly fixated on that moment? Ginny chastised herself internally. It seemed she would never rid Draco Malfoy of that conceited grin. Surprisingly, he offered no comment on the memory.
"You must be better prepared than that," he observed coolly.
"You gave me no time to prepare!" Ginny protested;
"Would you expect a Legilimens to warn you first? To count to three before invading your mind?" Draco retorted, laughter laced with sarcasm. "You must always be on your guard."
"Can you actually see everything in my thoughts?" Ginny inquired, her face still warm.
"Not exactly. It's not as straightforward. I catch glimpses, scattered images, mainly what's on your mind at the moment. I can't access memories you're not actively thinking about or have forgotten," he explained nonchalantly.
Ginny felt a measure of relief at his words.
"How was my first attempt?" she asked curiously.
"As expected, abysmal," he replied. "There's considerable work ahead if you're to reach an acceptable level of defence."
Draco poised his wand towards her once more.
"Let's try again," he instructed.
An hour later, Ginny was exhausted but relieved when Draco suggested they conclude the day's lesson. Repelling his mental intrusions had proved a daunting task, leaving her weary and troubled. The thought of Draco Malfoy accessing her thoughts with such an intrusive technique was unsettling.
"It will take time," he noted. "Partly because your magical prowess is less developed."
Although Ginny was better educated than many Unbloodeds, her magical education paled in comparison to that received by Purebloods at Hogwarts.
Draco appeared contemplative for a moment, as if debating whether to voice his thoughts.
"What we went through was tough," he eventually said, a shadow flickering in his grey eyes. "But we're both aware that people meet grim fates daily. It's beyond our control."
Ginny stayed silent, well aware he was alluding to the public executions she'd witnessed.
"We were fortunate to escape scrutiny afterwards," he added. "I'm keen to put it all behind us, and I'd like you to do the same."
Ginny was taken aback by his suggestion. Was he truly suggesting she could simply choose to forget and move forward?
"I realise that might not be so simple for you," Draco acknowledged, before she could respond. "However, I can offer something to make it less… burdensome."
"How?" Ginny queried, intrigued.
"I can cast a spell to remove the memory from your immediate consciousness. It won't be erased, but it will remain dormant unless you deliberately recall it," he elaborated.
The Occlumency session made it evident that the memory of the explosion haunted her. Nonetheless, Ginny was surprised by Draco's gesture of compassion.
"I... Yes, please," she agreed, her voice steadying from the initial shock.
Draco excused himself towards the kitchen, leaving Ginny to contemplate his offer. Upon returning with an empty vial, he approached her, his eyes seeking confirmation. She nodded in agreement. Draco aimed his wand at Ginny's temple.
"Focus on the memory you wish to diminish," he directed.
Ginny focused on the fiery destruction and the ensuing chaos. A physical chill coursed through her as the memory vividly replayed. As she concentrated, a silvery strand seemed to extricate itself from her thoughts, the vividness of the memory diminishing with its extraction. Draco captured the ethereal thread in the vial and presented it to Ginny.
"Thank you," she murmured, emotion threading through her voice.
"You saved my life. It's the least I can do," he replied, avoiding her gaze.
Ginny was momentarily speechless, sensing the significance of his admission and the effort it took him to express his gratitude.
Pansy swept into the living room, enthusiastically announcing their evening plans at one of her preferred haunts.
"Is this really wise?" Ginny murmured to Draco.
He offered a noncommittal shrug.
"Not really. But it might do us more good than harm. We could all use a distraction after recent events," he conceded.
Ginny's gaze rested on him, surprised at the sudden change. Since the ball, a new facet of Draco appeared to be revealing itself, one less shielded, more... relatable. She unexpectedly found comfort in his presence, a welcome respite from the constant vigilance Draco Malfoy had previously demanded. Despite continued disagreements, a trace of diplomacy had surfaced, marking a significant shift in their interactions.
Dinner unfolded in Pansy's lavish dining room, where she steered the conversation. Ginny found it odd yet refreshingly normal to see Draco engaging so effortlessly, revealing a more relatable side. His genuine amusement at Pansy's anecdotes, as opposed to his customary sarcasm, came as a revelation.
Post-dinner, which felt more like a banquet courtesy of Waterford, Ginny retreated upstairs for a shower. Returning to her room, she found Waterford waiting with an ensemble selected by Pansy—a stylish yet somewhat revealing black cowl-neck dress, paired with heels that heralded a quick resurgence of her recent foot troubles.
When Ginny stepped into the living room, she found Draco and Pansy ready to leave. Pansy greeted her with a whistle, signalling approval, and eagerly linked arms. Draco, meanwhile, offered no remarks, instead allowing his gaze to rest on Ginny a moment longer than might be considered casual, before diverting his attention elsewhere.
"We're set for a fantastic night," Pansy enthused as they headed for the door, with Draco and Galileo trailing.
A Death Eater, evidently Draco's escort, stood by as they exited, boarding a heliotrope-pink carriage that screamed 'Pansy'. The carriage proved much more grand and spacious than Draco's own. Seeing Galileo climb on board, Ginny understood why. He folded himself into the carriage,his long limbs struggling against the confines. Beside him on the seat, Pansy looked tiny.
"I invited Theodore," Pansy cheerfully announced to Draco. "I can't believe he accepted, actually. Seeing him has been quite the challenge since his return home."
Theodore, Ginny thought excitedly. Could it be Hermione's Theodore? After all, like Pansy and Draco, Theodore Nott was an heir to one of the regime's revered dynasties. It stood to reason that they circulated within the same elite social spheres.
Ginny marvelled at the surreal nature of her anticipated company—three heirs of the Sacred Thirteen. Her life had veered into the realms of the unbelievable. Recent days had unfolded like a vivid, albeit disconcerting, dream, positioning her as a spectator within an alien narrative. She yearned for the simplicity of her own existence, despite its trials—a life that, though occasionally arduous, was unmistakably her own.
"Where are we headed?" Draco drawled languidly.
Ginny gave him a quick glance. Seated beside her, he radiated a sense of ennui.
"We're off to Blaise's new club," Pansy declared with enthusiasm. "It's currently the place to be."
"The same club you were nearly begging to visit on the eve of my grand opening, rather than lending a hand?" Draco countered, his lips twisting sardonically.
"Oh, for Voldemort's sake, you're such a killjoy. I graced your little shindig with my presence, remember?" Pansy retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Diving into her sparkling clutch, she retrieved a rose gold cigarette holder, positioning it between her lips with flair. Shortly thereafter, the carriage came to a jarring halt. Galileo led the way out, courteously keeping the door ajar for them.
Ginny took in her surroundings with a blend of curiosity and wariness. They found themselves in District Thirteen, the pulsating and eclectic core of the capital's nightlife. The throngs of people were either scurrying to join queues outside the most sought-after spots or being enticed by the less popular venues.
Ginny had rarely found herself in this part of town, often deterred by the prohibitive entry fees and policies that blatantly favored Purebloods. Her sole memorable outing here was with Oliver Wood, her ex, celebrating a Deathtrack victory at a nearby club which, though exclusive, fell short of their current destination's opulence. In contrast to the modest club she dimly remembered around the corner, this venue featured an imposing entryway—a stone-sculpted dragon's gaping maw. The lengthy queue of hopefuls extending down the pavement further heightened the aura of exclusivity. Ginny shivered stepping out of the carriage, the cold wind biting at her exposed skin. Unfazed, Pansy strode towards the entrance, unaware of the long queue, eliciting envious and admiring glances alike from the onlookers.
"Welcome to Inferno," one of the doormen welcomed them, unfastening a rope to let them in. "Have a wicked time."
They proceeded down a dimly lit corridor, its walls adorned with eerily realistic animated flames. Ginny immediately noticed a rise in temperature. Closer inspection revealed the illusionary flames were, in fact, radiating warmth. She trailed behind Pansy towards another door, guarded by a second bouncer, catching a glimpse of Draco making his way to the ticket booth. The bouncer's gaze flickered to Pansy, a curt nod following as he stepped aside to let her pass. But as Ginny moved to join her, his hand shot out, barring her way.
"Identification, please," he requested.
Ginny, caught off guard, quickly shifted from surprise to apprehension. She considered calling out to Pansy, but she had already disappeared, unaware of the situation unfolding behind her. Ginny faced the bouncer.
"Why?" she asked, trying to sound confident.
She harboured a sinking feeling that revealing her true blood status would spell trouble. She glanced towards Draco, who was engaged with the ticket booth attendant, oblivious to her plight.
"It's standard procedure here. We perform wand checks on all guests," he stated flatly.
Ginny's mind raced. Arguing would only raise more flags. She inwardly cursed her predicament.
"Well?" the bouncer pressed, his tone growing impatient.
Surprised and cornered, Ginny rummaged in her bag for her wand. Suddenly, a firm hand landed on her lower back, sending a surge of surprise through her. Turning sharply, she encountered Draco Malfoy standing close, his hand assertively resting on her waist, his gaze locked on the bouncer with a chilling steadiness.
"She's with me," Draco declared.
His voice, both cool and measured, wielded an implicit authority that rendered him an undeniable force. Even the burly bouncer seemed momentarily stunned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.
"Understood, Mr. Malfoy. My apologies for the oversight. Please, enjoy your evening," the bouncer quickly corrected himself, stepping aside to let them pass.
Draco led Ginny into the next area.
"Put that away," he ordered, glancing at her wand.
Swiftly obeying, Ginny tucked away her wand as they entered an immense hall throbbing with loud music, capable of accommodating a crowd of a thousand. The air was alive with tiny, winged creatures darting through the crowd, their fins casting brilliant streaks of light in perfect harmony with the rhythm. The venue was teeming.
Pansy appeared abruptly before them, her gaze quickly fixing on Draco's arm around Ginny.
"What took you so long?" she demanded, a playful edge to her voice.
The way Pansy's eyes lingered on the closeness between Ginny and Draco brought a flush to Ginny's cheeks, prompting her to swiftly extricate herself from his hold.
"Take these," Draco offered, handing them glowing platinum bracelets.
Pansy eagerly slipped hers on, while Ginny, uncertain of their purpose, followed suit.
"Let's head upstairs!" Pansy exclaimed, guiding them to a VIP staircase, which they ascended without hindrance from a bouncer.
The stairs led them to a mezzanine decked out with booths and plush seating, offering a panoramic view of the dance floor below—a private haven amidst the revelry, occupied by just a few other select groups. A separate mezzanine across housed the DJ, who was energetically rallying the crowd below. They settled into a secluded booth, the distance affording them a degree of privacy amidst the vibrant club atmosphere.
Two waitresses appeared beside them, their smiles as bright as the silver trays floating beside them, heavy with bottles. Abruptly, dazzling blue flames skittered across the table's surface, vanishing as swiftly as they had emerged. Pansy's excitement was palpable.
"I absolutely love this place!" she gushed.
Ginny, caught off guard by the abrupt display, recoiled slightly. Briefly, the terrifying blaze from the Chimera Palace invasion flashed in her mind. But the memory blurred, retreating further with each beat of the music, replaced by a strange detachment that both frightened and intrigued her. Was this Draco's spell at work?
Accepting a glass from a waitress, Ginny indulged in a generous sip. Unfamiliar with the concoction, she only knew it packed enough punch to send a wave of warmth cascading through her.
"Looks like someone's ready to have some fun," Pansy remarked, eyeing her with a look that was half-surprised, half-amused.
Ginny hesitated, a flicker of apprehension battling the growing urge to numb her worries. With a shrug that masked her unease, she accepted the second glass.
"To freedom, Red," Pansy raised her glass, swiftly downing her shot.
She let out an uncontrollable giggle. Ginny did the same after downing her own shot. She wasn't sure how many shots she had in Pansy's company but she realized that her body temperature had warmed up, and a sense of exhilaration washed over her. The giggling water tasted sweet and deceptively innocent, yet its effects were undeniable. All her anxiety evaporated, replaced by sudden euphoria brought on by intoxication.
"Look, it's Theodore!" Pansy exclaimed, her excitement palpable as she animatedly gestured towards the mezzanine entrance, where a man with black hair had just appeared.
Pansy's dress risked a wardrobe malfunction with each animated movement, though she seemed utterly unconcerned. Ginny chuckled and adjusted the hem of her outfit to ensure it wasn't too revealing. From the corner of her eye, she caught Draco rolling his eyes at his friend's antics.
Lured by Pansy's lively signals, Theodore approached their secluded spot at a deliberate pace. Ginny watched with keen interest, her anticipation stirred by Hermione's accounts of him. She was eager to meet him.
By the look on his face, Ginny could tell Theodore didn't want to be there. His reluctance was apparent, pausing as if unsure about joining the group. Pansy, oblivious to his reservations, engulfed him in a suffocating embrace that drew a grimace instead of a smile. He returned the gesture with minimal effort, his discomfort palpable. Pansy then seized Ginny's hand for introductions.
"Theo, this is Ginny. A friend of mine, not Draco's," Pansy slurred, her words slightly muddled by alcohol.
"Valour and vigour," Theodore offered by way of greeting, his tone polite but guarded.
"Oh, do lighten up," Pansy chided, dismissing his formality with a wave. "Have a drink with us."
It seemed impossible to decline Pansy's insistence. Her determination was such that refusal was not an option. Theodore, acquiescing without further ado, accepted the offered glass and settled beside them, acknowledging Draco with a nod.
Throughout this, Draco had remained a quiet observer. Lounging in his seat, he radiated a sense of aloof superiority, his gaze sweeping over the club's patrons with a look of ennui.
"Victorious be his coming."
Ginny's head snapped up,drawn to the smooth,modulated voice.A strikingly handsome black man in a pale pink shirt stood there,his amber eyes flitting across the group before settling intently on her.
"Blaise!" Pansy exclaimed enthusiastically.
"I trust everything is to your liking and that my staff is treating you well," Blaise said, his manner both warm and courteous as he settled next to Draco.
"I must apologise for the earlier inconvenience at the entrance," he directed at Draco, his smile amiable yet somewhat strained. "Security has been enhanced. Given recent incidents, one can't be too careful."
Ginny's ears perked 's mention of 'recent incidents' was a clear nod to the Hellebore Ball at Pansy's,she'd been kept out of the the news out now? She had been eager to delve deeper, but Pansy's obvious avoidance and Draco's selective sharing had left her somewhat in the dark.
"I understand you were at the Chimera Palace that night, Draco?" Blaise probed, curiosity evident in his tone.
Draco stayed mum,his eyes darting between Ginny and then Pansy,a silent message passing between felt lost in their cryptic exchange. Suddenly, Pansy's grip on her arm tightened, pulling her to her feet.
"Enough of their dreary talk," Pansy announced. "Let's hit the dance floor, Red!"
Ginny attempted to voice her reluctance, yet Pansy's firm grip left no room for dissent. They made their way down from the mezzanine into the club's bustling main hall, now teeming with even more patrons than before. They wove through the throng to reach the dance floor, where Pansy immediately lost herself in the rhythm of the pounding music. Ginny's initial irritation at being pulled away from Draco and Blaise's conversation soon faded as she found herself caught up in the dance.
With each refrain, the sense of liberation bloomed further, fuelled by the music and the drinks that painted the world in brighter hues. Laughter bubbled up, chasing away the shadows of stress that had clung to Ginny for weeks. Against all expectations, this evening out proved unexpectedly therapeutic, providing a release she hadn't realised was necessary. Dancing so freely almost made her forget about everything else. The stress she'd been feeling for the past few weeks had reached its peak during the Ball. Since then, she'd been on edge.
Amidst the pulsating lights and the sea of dancers, Ginny embraced a moment of carefree joy, dancing with abandon. The need for refreshment briefly interrupted their dance marathon, leading them back to the bar for drinks. As the night wore on, Ginny's surroundings began to blur, a sign she was nearing her limit. A misstep almost caused her to stumble, but Pansy's quick action saved her from falling.
Ginny hesitated at the sight of the long queue but followed as Pansy confidently skirted the waiting line, her hand held high. Ginny was puzzled by Pansy's boldness, yet none of the women waiting seemed to take offense. It was a stark contrast to the struggles Ginny had faced at the Leaky Cauldron, where reaching the ladies' restroom could sometimes feel like an epic quest. Ginny had even witnessed a few brawls.
They bypassed the queue effortlessly and Pansy darted into the first vacant cubicle, leaving Ginny to face the curious stares of the women behind her. She felt their eyes on her, not with annoyance but with something akin to envy. Glancing down at her arm, Ginny realized they were fixated on the platinum bracelet Draco had given her earlier.
Returning to the dance floor's vibrant crowd, Ginny paused to survey the scene. She noticed that while green bracelets dominated the scene, the red bracelets were almost exclusively worn by attractive women clad in outfits that drew attention with their daring styles. Amidst this spectrum of hues, her own platinum bracelet stood out.
"Could we head back up for a while?" Ginny asked, exhausted from the dancing and her uncomfortable heel.
"Of course, but let me pick up something quickly," Pansy replied, leading Ginny to a secluded corner where an Asian man with striking platinum blonde hair sat alone.
"You kept me waiting," he greeted Pansy. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd gone to the competition."
"Impossible, darling. I'm your most devoted customer. What's on the menu tonight, Kai?" Pansy leaned forward, her interest piqued.
Kai produced a tiny, clear bag from his pocket, revealing several pills.
"LSD," he declared.
Ginny, puzzled, turned to Pansy. "What's that?"
"It's what we call 'Lucid Sky Dreaming'," Pansy elucidated, with a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.
Yet, Pansy seemed unimpressed. "Have you got anything more... exotic? I fancy an adventure tonight."
She gestured as if riding unseen waves, eliciting a chuckle from Kai.
"I've got just the thing, fresh from Nepal," he claimed.
"Really?" Pansy's interest visibly peaked.
"It's called Concentrated Organic Knockout Essence, or 'Coke' for those in the know. It's exceptionally potent. It'll launch you to the stars, I promise," Kai boasted, pointing upwards.
He gestured dramatically towards the ceiling.
"Two, please," Pansy requested keenly, delving into her purse to pass a handful of coins to Kai, leaving Ginny utterly bewildered.
Kai handed over the goods, wrapped in a worn piece of parchment, which Pansy quickly concealed in her purse. Ginny was dumbstruck by the transaction.
"What if someone saw you?" Ginny asked, uncomfortable.
Pansy waved off the worry. "Honestly, Ginny. The management's aware. There's no problem as long as we keep it discreet," she reassured her, her confidence undimmed by the risky transaction.
They ascended back to the mezzanine and rejoined Draco and Theodore in their box, noticing Blaise had vanished.
"I see we're having a blast here," Pansy commented, her voice heavy with sarcasm upon catching the unimpressed looks from the two men.
Theodore had claimed Ginny's previous seat, and Pansy reclaimed hers, leaving her with the only remaining option next to Draco. She settled down beside him, somewhat awkwardly from the effects of the alcohol, her leg accidentally brushing against his. They'd barely spoken all evening.
Pansy, without missing a beat, retrieved the drugs she'd acquired. Quickly popping a pill under her tongue, she then offered another to Ginny, who paused.
"Don't even think about it," Draco interjected sharply.
Pansy rolled her eyes, then turned the offer to Theodore, who declined with a polite nod.
"She's used to taking stuff like this," Draco quietly explained to Ginny. "It could be dangerous if you're not experienced."
Ginny understood; her only experience with substances was Billywig powder, known for its mild and generally safe effects. She'd steered clear of anything stronger.
"She really is something, isn't she?" Ginny reflected, as Pansy climbed onto the table to dance, her voice mixed with admiration and surprise.
Pansy's boundless energy was on full display as she danced uninhibitedly. Ginny couldn't help but be impressed.
"A heads-up about her would've been nice," she added, half-joking.
Draco's response was a slight smile, a departure from his usual sneers. Observing him now, Ginny couldn't help but note a change in his demeanour since the Hellebore Ball. There was a protective streak in how he interacted with both her and Pansy, reminiscent of the care her brother Bill showed towards their family. The comparison between Draco and Bill stirred a mix of emotions in Ginny - confusion, a flicker of warmth, and a nagging dissonance that she couldn't quite place.
Her attention returned to Pansy, utterly absorbed in her dance and the moment. Her pupils had dilated.
"Admit it, the surprise made it all the more memorable," Draco countered with a teasing grin.
Ginny shot back a playful scowl, crossing her arms and accidentally grazing the distinctive bracelet on her wrist.
"What exactly are these bracelets for?" Ginny asked.
She had just realised that Theodore was also wearing a platinum bracelet.
"They sort the guests," Draco explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Noticing Ginny's confusion, he grasped her arm, his fingers lightly touching the bracelet—and her skin—sending a shiver down her spine.
"These are for VIPs only, for those of us here," he elaborated, indicating the mezzanine occupants.
"And the criteria for this VIP status?" Ginny probed further.
"Being from a Sacred family or having deep pockets," he disclosed.
He released her arm, which fell back onto her lap somewhat lifelessly.
"Or both," Draco added with a smug grin.
Ginny internally rolled her eyes at his boastfulness. "And what about the green bracelets?" she queried further.
"Purebloods," Draco clarified succinctly.
"And the red ones?"
"For those who aren't."
"They willingly admit Unbloodeds here?" Ginny mused aloud, her astonishment clear.
Ginny found it hard to believe that a club of this calibre would openly admit individuals of lower social standing. Pansy had mentioned this was the place to be among their social circle.
"Some standards appear to flex where profit is involved," Draco replied, his response evasive. "Zabini has a particular fondness for money."
Ginny recalled the women with red bracelets, all conspicuously attractive. It dawned on her that this might be a calculated move to entice the club's male patrons.
"And I suppose some of them are companions," Draco continued, distractedly.
"Companions?" Ginny echoed, the term not immediately clear to her.
"Professionals engaged for... entertainment purposes," he clarified, his voice laden with sarcasm.
"Oh," was all Ginny managed, a blush creeping up her cheeks at her own naivety.
Their chat halted when Pansy's newest table performance captured their attention.
From the corner of her eye, Ginny observed a blonde woman, clad in shimmering silk, stalking towards them like a predator circling its piercing gaze landed on Draco,leaving no doubt about her target.
A sudden wave of annoyance swept through Ginny, intensifying as the blonde boldly approached and leaned in close to Draco, her neckline's deep plunge revealing much. She whispered something into his ear, leaving no room for ambiguity about her intentions.
Ginny pretended to look away, yet couldn't help but notice Draco's stoic response to the woman's advances. When the blonde finally retreated, her expression one of humiliation and annoyance at his indifference, Ginny felt a surprising flush of satisfaction.
"Seems she didn't catch your interest?" Ginny remarked, trying to maintain a neutral tone while she sipped her drink.
"I've made it clear I'm otherwise engaged this evening," Draco disclosed, locking eyes with Ginny, prompting her to casually brush her hair aside in an attempt to appear unfazed.
"She didn't seem too pleased. I imagine you've bruised her ego," Ginny commented, a playful edge to her voice.
"It's unsurprising she took a chance; my reputation is well-known," Draco commented, his tone devoid of its usual boastfulness, more an acknowledgment of fact.
Ginny was aware of the attention Draco commanded upon their arrival at Inferno. Given his lineage, Draco Malfoy indeed was an individual many sought out.
"You were likely the only one unaware of who I was upon our first encounter," he mused after a moment, his tone tinged with his customary arrogance. "Or perhaps you were just pretending."
His condescending tone was all it took to spark Ginny's annoyance anew. "Please, don't flatter yourself," she shot back sharply.
His amusement was clear as he let out a brief chuckle at her comeback.
"Yet, at the ball, you hardly seemed put off," he teased, hinting at something deeper.
Ginny felt her cheeks burn, grateful that her hair shielded her flushed ears. He was alluding to that charged moment in the Chimera Palace gardens where a kiss had seemed imminent, and Ginny hadn't pulled away.
"I haven't the faintest clue what you mean," she protested, pretending ignorance.
"Your earlier memories told a different story," he quipped, a smirk in his tone.
Ginny silently cursed herself, momentarily forgetting their Occlumency lesson. Draco had seen into her thoughts from the ball, witnessing the turmoil and attraction she felt when he had leaned in so close. Now, Ginny found it impossible to hide her embarrassment. She wished for nothing more than to vanish from sight. The conversation was veering into uncomfortable territory, and Draco was evidently enjoying her discomfort. He was clearly regaining the upper hand, and she would only embarrass herself further if she continued this exchange.
"I need some fresh air," she murmured, desperate to leave the conversation.
To her astonishment, Draco leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"Are you certain you wouldn't like my company outside, as before?" he teased, sarcasm evident in his tone.
Ginny gave him a sharp look and rose quickly, refusing to dignify his remark with a reply. She made her way from their box, ignoring Draco's smug expression. She found Theodore Nott by the railing, observing the dance floor with a detached air. Joining him, she leaned on the railing.
"This music isn't quite your style, I take it?" she ventured.
Theodore looked surprised by her sudden company but shrugged.
"I'm fairly eclectic in my musical tastes," he offered, his voice neutral.
The conversation paused. Ginny's attention was drawn to the DJ booth, where she noticed tiny blue figures flitting around the DJ, disappearing as suddenly as they appeared. She blinked in disbelief.
"I must have overindulged," she admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "I could swear I just saw tiny trolls near the DJ."
"You're not imagining things," Theodore replied calmly. "Those are working pixies. They assist artists and can only be seen under certain light. "
"Ah, I see."
"Once bonded, a working pixie faithfully accompanies its artist for life," Theodore continued, his voice tinged with whimsy. "Well, except for the French ones—they're notorious for going on strike often."
Ginny couldn't help but laugh, unsure if he was being serious. She glanced at him, noting a certain sombreness. Driven by a spontaneous urge, she leaned in slightly.
"Listen, this may sound strange, considering we barely know each other, but... I know about you and Hermione," she confided, her voice dropping to a murmur.
Theodore's guarded facade crumbled instantly, replaced by a flicker of surprise tinged with concern.
"I'm Hermione's flatmate, and she's mentioned you," Ginny clarified quickly, hoping to dispel his rising alarm.
Recognition dawned on him. "Ah, you're that Ginny," he remarked, his expression a blend of relief and possibly apprehension.
A shadow of melancholy flickered in Theodore's eyes. Conscious of the recent strain between him and Hermione, Ginny hesitated, caught between voicing her opinion and honouring their privacy. Yet, Hermione's confidences, filled with regret and stubbornness, compelled her to speak.
"Any chance I could offer some unsolicited advice?" Ginny ventured, seeking his tacit approval.
Theodore nodded slightly, intrigued by her forwardness.
"Hermione's someone who doesn't leave much to chance. She values security, certainty," Ginny explained. "This whole situation is uncharted territory for her. She's drawn to you, but the potential consequences worry her."
"I understand," Theodore murmured, his gaze softening slightly.
"But you don't understand, not entirely," Ginny pressed softly. "For us, the stakes of our lives... they're different. This isn't some game we can walk away from."
"Trust me, this is no game to me either. I'm deeply invested in this. Hermione is very important to me, and all I desire is her well-being. If only she could look beyond her barriers," he shared, his tone brimming with honesty.
"Then prove it to her. Be patient, give her space to navigate her doubts. Help her feel secure without being too pushy," Ginny encouraged, her genuine concern evident in her tone.
Theodore seemed to absorb her words, his thoughtful expression lingering.
"Thank you, Ginny. I appreciate this," he said after a moment, genuine gratitude in his voice.
"No worries, I'll chat with her too," Ginny assured him, a playful smile gracing her lips. "Wouldn't want her to miss out on something good because of overthinking."
Ginny found herself warming to Theodore. Despite their brief exchange, his calm and unassuming demeanour hinted at why Hermione was drawn to him; they seemed naturally attuned.
"Would you mind if I asked you a favour?" Ginny ventured cautiously.
"Go on," Theodore responded, his attentiveness unwavering.
"Could you... maybe not mention to Hermione that you saw me tonight? Especially not who I was with," she requested, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
Acknowledging her request with a knowing nod, Theodore cast a fleeting glance back at their previous table.
"He doesn't look thrilled," he observed, a wry smile playing on his lips.
Draco's piercing gaze met hers the moment she turned, sending a shiver down her spine. She darted her eyes away, the heat rising in her cheeks.
"He always has that look, doesn't he? Mr. Enchanting himself," Ginny said, a touch of sarcasm lacing her voice.
"He certainly doesn't seem to approve of our conversation," Theodore remarked, his knowing gaze implying he saw through her facade.
Ginny fell silent, a blush blooming across her face. Maybe, after their earlier encounter, a bit of payback was in order. She reclaimed her spot next to Draco, subtly using the moment to playfully engage with Theodore, ensuring her smiles were a bit too bright, a bit too frequent. Draco's steady, intense gaze acted as a tacit acknowledgment of her actions, stoking her quiet satisfaction. Let's see how you like it, Malfoy, she mused inwardly, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.
The night drew to a close as Pansy's antics intensified beyond manageability, her actions bordering on erratic with claims of soaring like a bird.
"We need to head back," Draco stated, taking hold of Pansy, who was now visibly struggling to maintain her balance.
"I can fly, I've got wings," Pansy slurred, desperation colouring her voice as she sought Ginny's support.
"Enough nonsense for tonight, Pansy. It's bedtime," Draco responded with a note of finality, his patience worn thin.
"I just want to be free. Like a bird," she whimpered, her voice breaking, hinting at tears. "Why can't we be free?"
Ginny cast a worried glance towards her. "Will she be alright?" she asked Draco.
"She's overdone it; she's talking nonsense," Draco replied dismissively, clearly eager to move past the night's drama.
As they left the club, she decided not to push the issue further, sensing Draco's reluctance to dwell on Pansy's condition.
The next morning, Ginny awoke from an unsettled sleep, met with the unwelcome pulsing of a headache, a residual reminder of the previous night's excesses. Even the comforting warmth of a shower couldn't banish the fatigue clinging to her from the truncated night. Stepping into the kitchen, the sight of Draco and an unusually chipper Pansy caught her off guard.
"You're free to go home today," Draco announced, his gaze shifting towards her.
A surge of relief flooded through Ginny at the prospect of returning home.
"The coast seems clear for now," he added, his tone lacking warmth, strictly informational.
Despite detecting a chill in his tone, Ginny pushed aside any lingering thoughts. Her mind was preoccupied with the anticipation of going home and reuniting with her loved ones.
"Thanks for everything, Pansy," she said sincerely at the doorway, moments later.
Pansy responded with an enthusiastic hug, nearly toppling Ginny over. She then turned to Draco with a playful plea, "I adore her. Can we keep her?"
Draco simply rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. But Pansy, ever persistent, winked at Ginny, "We should definitely do this again, don't you think, love?"
The return carriage journey was enveloped in deep silence, with Draco's replies reduced to terse monosyllables. Mercifully, the journey was brief, and the carriage finally came to a halt. Ginny turned towards him, not knowing what to say. Given the incident at the ball, she was unsure about her future at Governor Warrington's cabinet.
"Well... until next time," she said awkwardly as the carriage stopped.
Draco's only response was a curt nod, his lips remaining firmly sealed. Ginny hastily exited, closing the carriage door with a sharp click, eager to escape the stifling silence. Returning to the familiar yet oddly foreign streets of Knockturn Alley, she couldn't shake off the surreal feeling of moving between two worlds vastly different from her own.
Ginny hurried towards her apartment, her steps echoing on the stairwell as she ascended with urgency to the topmost floor. Her keys, along with other personal items, had been left behind in a room at the Chimera Palace. Thankfully, a spare set was cleverly hidden in a plant pot by the hallway's window. Reaching for the keys, the sound of voices from inside the flat stopped her cold, her hand suspended in mid-air. She hadn't expected anyone to be home, especially not at this hour, with Hermione presumed to be at work. Ginny rapped on the door, which creaked open, revealing an agitated Hermione standing in the doorway.
"Ginny!" Hermione's voice broke with emotion, pulling her into an immediate, tight hug—a clear indicator of her distress. "We've been so worried about you..."
Ginny was momentarily taken aback, not immediately reciprocating the hug as her mind raced. "We?"
The single word hung heavy in the air, signalling further complications. Peering past Hermione, Ginny's gaze landed on Bill and Fleur stationed in the living room, a sight that sent a pang of dread through her. Internally, she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. Bill approached quickly, his hug both strong and charged with tension. Yet, as he stepped back, his face betrayed a storm of anger.
"Ginevra Margaret Weasley, do you have any idea of the sheer panic we've been through?" His voice boomed, infused with both worry and anger, the invocation of her full name signalling the severity of his distress.
Nausea overwhelmed Ginny, feeling the situation's pressure as she caught Hermione's gaze, filled with unspoken apologies.
"How could you lie to us for so long, Ginevra? Working at the bloody Ministry of Magic? Have you any notion of the danger you've placed yourself in?" Bill roared, his face twisted in fury.
"That's exactly why I kept it from you," Ginny shot back, her patience fraying. "I knew you'd react like this."
Her response did little to appease her irate brother.
"And what reaction did you expect from me?" he retorted sharply.
"I'm an adult, Bill," Ginny replied, her fatigue evident as she defensively crossed her arms. "I'm entitled to make my own decisions."
The weight of the confrontation, combined with her throbbing headache, made every word from Bill feel like a sharp knife slicing through her.
"Can't you understand the absolute terror we felt when we learned you were at that cursed ball, the one splashed across all the newspapers because of the explosion?" His voice trembled with a mix of anger and anguish as he faced her.
Bill paused, massaging his temples in a futile attempt to quell his rising temper. "We were completely in the dark for four days. If Hermione hadn't been so concerned and come to us, we would still be utterly clueless," he continued, the disappointment and frustration clear in his voice.
Ginny could only wince in acknowledgment. Her silence had inevitably led Hermione to seek help. Despite the vague letter she had managed to send after the incident, it was clear now that it had done little to alleviate concerns.
"Bill..." Fleur's voice, soft yet urgent, sliced through the charged atmosphere, temporarily pulling their focus away from their heated exchange.
"Not now, Fleur!" Bill snapped, his irritation briefly redirected at his wife.
"WILLIAM!" Fleur's shout, tinged with urgency and alarm, pierced the room, commanding instant focus.
All eyes swivelled towards Fleur, whose face had drained of colour, her hands instinctively clutching her belly in evident distress.
A stifled gasp broke from Fleur's lips, "The baby... I think it's time," her voice quivering with panic.