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Author: Jner Story: An English Heaven Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 5 Words: 44,171
A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed. Your encouragement and words of kindness have done wonders. Thanks to Michele, as usual, for her excellent job. Without her...well, let's just say that she's the best thing that ever happened to this story. Love you, Chele! ~*~ The Atrium of the Ministry swam into view and Harry immediately swept into motion, ignoring the slight swoop of his stomach that always accompanied Apparation. Being far past normal business hours, Harry was slightly surprised to see the handful of people that were surrounding the Floo fires, stepping one by one into the green flames to go home. He glanced at his watch as he turned the corner leading to the lifts, his mind working furiously over what had just happened. He pounded the lift button and opened his fist, which held the crumpled Ministry letter. He glared at the words; on top of everything that had happened to him, he now had to endure a hearing, something that would only take more of his precious time. He didn't know exactly what had gone wrong today; he couldn't even remember what he'd said to Mr. Foulkes and he was completely perplexed at how the Ministry came to know of their discussion. Perhaps Arthur would have some insight.... The lift doors opened smoothly and the usual ethereal voice said, "Atrium," before he re-crumpled the Ministry letter and prepared to step into the lift. "Harry!" He whirled around to find Arthur stepping off of the adjacent lift, looking flustered. "Arthur, I was just coming to see you," said Harry, lowering his voice as a witch exited the same lift and sauntered past them toward the fires. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." Arthur nodded solemnly, "If it's about your hearing, I already know. I was just coming home to speak with you." He grabbed Harry's elbow and steered him away from the lifts, which were jangling into motion once more, to a small conference room down the hall. As they walked, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of dread - his father-in-law had never treated him like this before. Arthur motioned for Harry to step inside and followed immediately, shutting the door with a snap and raising his wand to cast a quick silencing charm. When he turned, Harry froze. The look in Arthur's eyes was icy cold with seriousness. "Do you realize the trouble you've put yourself, not to mention me, or Ginny in?" Arthur asked sternly. Harry bit his tongue; he wasn't sure if Arthur wanted him to answer that or not. He felt like he was suddenly a child again, being scolded. "What could have compelled you to tell Glen Foulkes about the Draught? Harry, you know better than this!" he said, taking a step toward him, his eyes burning into Harry's. Harry felt incredibly ashamed. He did know better, as an Auror and a trusted friend. He had been so worried about how this new development stole more precious time from finding Ginny that he hadn't taken Arthur into consideration. Arthur had come to him months before with news of Ginny's new task, at considerable risk to himself. Harry had noticed an upswing in his wife's work hours, but when he'd asked, she'd explained that she wasn't at liberty to say. He'd understood this: as an Auror, he himself wasn't permitted to disclose a large amount of information concerning his job, and he hadn't pried or asked questions. But later on, Arthur had approached Harry with a warning. "Ginny's work is dangerous," he'd said. "She must be protected against those who will use her for her talents." Harry had been confused, but soon understood as Arthur revealed the safely guarded secret of the Draught. Harry had vowed to keep watch on Ginny and not to tell a living soul -save for his wife- what he knew. If Harry did tell, it would mean trouble for those he loved, something that Harry never dreamed of bringing about. And he'd done just that. "I'm sorry," Harry said lamely, feeling utterly apologetic. "I was looking for clues to find Ginny and I ran into someone who had seen her." "So I've heard," Arthur said darkly, starting to pace. "I've just been told by Mary Lou Foulkes that her father-in-law contacted her this afternoon asking about the Azkaban prisoners. Mr. Foulkes claims that you told him that Ginny was working on a Draught that was somehow linked to the prisoners contained there." He stopped in his tracks and glanced at Harry. "Is this all true?" Harry's mind reeled backwards; he'd heard the name Mary Lou Foulkes before, he was sure of it. "Mary Lou...why does that name sound familiar to me?" Arthur let out a deep breath and tugged at his tie, loosening it. "She's a member of the Covert Operations Experimental Magic Department...one of the five people cleared to know about the Draught. She's Mr. Foulkes' daughter-in-law." Harry remembered the discussion he'd had with Arthur on the stairs that very morning, but hadn't thought twice about it since. There were only a handful of people cleared to know about the Draught and Arthur only knew because of his position as the Minister's Undersecretary. Harry suddenly felt like he needed to sit. How could he have been so stupid? He'd let his guard down for a moment -only a moment- and look what had happened. He'd caused a whole mess of problems not only for himself, but for his family as well. The anger he'd felt when he had first received the Ministry's letter announcing his hearing had evaporated, leaving a well of remorse in the pit of his stomach. Harry felt like he needed to explain, like he needed to defend what had happened. "I went to the M.L.E.S. and they couldn't help me," he began, his voice hoarse. "I was upset..." He remembered that he had struggled to keep his emotions in check, had felt like he needed someone to confide in; and when Mr. Foulkes had confessed that he'd seen Ginny the previous night, that he knew that Ginny was pregnant, that he'd said she was happy -a picture of a smiling Ginny popped into his mind then, her eyes were twinkling and her cheeks were flushed. He couldn't explain; there weren't words to describe the intense sadness that he was feeling; emotions that had caused him to break a promise. He met Arthur's eyes, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry, Arthur," Harry said, feeling miserable. He absently wiped his moist palms on his trousers and swallowed. "Mr. Foulkes approached me with news that he'd seen Ginny last night. Apparently, Ginny had gone to his bookshop after work and had bought a few books, but when he came to work this morning, he found her books abandoned in the snow...." Harry paused, remembering the ruined books that his wife had held not so many hours ago, his heart tugging painfully. "Harry," Arthur said, his tone noticeably softer, "I can't get you out of this. You'll have to attend the hearing." Harry nodded and ran his hands over his face a few times causing his glasses fall back onto his nose askance. "But I must ask that you do not mention my name as a reference to the Draught. I've looked into it and I think that they'll be fairly lenient if you play the spouse card." "What-" "If you say that Ginny told you about the Draught, because you're her husband, they could consider it spousal privilege. As her husband, you are warranted to know about her personal affairs...if she had a reason, a good one, to inform you about it." "Right," said Harry, nodding. He would do whatever he could to make it right. Arthur had trusted him and he had let him down. "I won't mention you." "When is the hearing?" Harry pulled the wadded paper apart and glanced at the dates. "Three days," he said, handing it to Arthur as though he needed to prove it. "Who do you think will be on the board?" Harry knew now that his experience with the law just before his fifth year at Hogwarts had been completely unorthodox. A normal hearing was much simpler: a small investigative body would ask him a few questions and then he would give testimony. He would, however, have to think of a good reason for Ginny to have revealed the nature of the Draught to him. But that won't be too difficult, he told himself. "I'm not sure. It could be any number from the Wizengamot: Madam Bones, Stewart Cook, Doug Clifford...." Arthur said, waving his hand as he thought. "But you'll have to be careful. You'll be swearing an oath that what you'll be saying is the truth, and there are ways of telling if a person is lying. This means that your defense must be solid and believable. Harry nodded his understanding. Truth Potions, various charms, and those proficient at Leglimency could be used if the person under oath were thought to be lying. These methods weren't practiced all that much however, as they could be circumvented by immunities to Truth Potions and Occlumency. "Can you think of a good excuse for Ginny telling you about the Draught?" "Yes," he said, swallowing. At the present moment, he had no idea what he would say, but he did not want Arthur to be any more disappointed in him. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he said once more, really meaning it. Arthur gave Harry a sad smile. "I know, Harry. I'm sorry I spoke so harshly before. I suppose I was just shocked. Mary Lou came to my office this evening and asked if I knew anything about it, but of course it was news to me." He paused and Harry noticed he looked even wearier than that morning on the stairs. He stared off in the distance for a moment then met Harry's eyes. "It's very important that we do not speak of this in view of other Ministry officials. In fact," he said, readjusting the cloak over his arm, "We should probably get going." He fished in his robe pockets for some gloves then draped his heavy winter cloak over his shoulders. He looked up and met Harry's eyes once more. "It's all going to work out, Harry." Harry nodded, not wanting Arthur to be so kind to him. Arthur took a few short steps toward him and placed a sympathetic hand on Harry's shoulder. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Thank you. Really...you've been...if it weren't for you I reckon I'd have fallen to pieces by now." "Harry, we'll find her. We will," he said seriously, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand fall away. He paused. "Are you coming to the Burrow for the night, then?" Harry shook his head. "No, I've got some things to take care of at home." Arthur nodded, giving him one last sad smile and left, the door closing once more with a snap. Harry sat there in the quiet for several moments, dreading going home to an empty house, but not wanting to go to the Burrow either. Squeezing the crumpled parchment in his hand, he pushed himself off of the table he was leaning against, and made his way into the Atrium. He tried to focus his mind on what he'd be saying at the hearing in three days time as he walked, but every thought was dominated with a feeling of complete failure. He felt as though the day had been a waste. He'd exhausted all of his searches and he had no further leads, and now he'd put Arthur in trouble. He just didn't see how it could get any worse. He kept his eyes to the ground as he Apparated, watching the reflective tiles of the Ministry fade from view before an altogether different view met his eyes. Harry stood at the entranceway to his and Ginny's kitchen and immediately wondered if he shouldn't have gone to the Burrow instead. His tired eyes ached as he gazed over the vestiges of the celebration dinner he and Ginny had had such a short time ago. Heavy candlesticks sat between golden plates and goblets set for two on the heavy table. It was all waiting to be cleaned and put away. Neither of them had wanted to take the time to clean on their short weekend together, so they had left their dirty dishes to be put away another day. He took a deep breath and blinked several times, pushing the happy memories out of his mind. He didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't help it; the images flashed before is eyes like a picture show. It had only been two days ago; they'd shared a wonderful day together making plans and laughing. They had picked out a few possible names for their baby, laughing at some of the ridiculous suggestions. "There's always Mundungus, Gin," "No. I won't have a son called 'Dung,' Harry. I won't," she said, laughing. "Come on, he was loads of help when it mattered. Loyal, business savvy..." "Crooked?" she suggested. "And he stunk! I don't think he ever bathed as long as I knew him." "OK, then...if not Dung, then how about Otis?" "Otis?" Ginny wrinkled her nose. "And who says we're going to have a boy, Harry? What if it's a girl?" "A girl? Well, I can think of a few names. How about Bertha?" Ginny let out a snort. "Bertha? Harry, that's bad." She paused, tapping her chin softly with a slender finger. "Wait, I have one: Dorcas." "Arg, that's horrible, Ginny. "Or how about Mertle?" Ginny's face had been flushed with happiness. After they'd laughed themselves hoarse, they had contemplated how their lives would be changing. He had told her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her. But it had all fallen to pieces in only a matter of hours. The urgency to find her was stronger than ever, and standing still was not helping his nerves one bit. Along with the desperation he felt, fear griped him tightly. He didn't know what to do; he had no idea how to find her. As an Auror, he'd always been very concerned for families of persons who had disappeared or been killed, of course. What kind of wizard wouldn't sympathize with something as horrible as all that? But this, this was new and frightening. Ginny had simply vanished, and that fact only made him feel desperately anxious. The grandfather clock against the wall ticked loudly as Harry's hurt grew. Standing in the midst of it all, remembering such a happy moment when his heart was so damaged made the ache inside his chest grow and grow until he could not hold it in any longer. His eyes burned as they filled with restrained tears. He was sad; he was lonely. He missed her so much that it made him physically ill, yet, at the same moment, he wasn't keen on re-hashing happy moments. It just hurt too much. The pain grew in intensity and Harry moved before he knew what he was doing. He forcibly gathered the dishes, wiping his eyes angrily, and dumped them in the sink for washing. He would rid himself of such reminders if it would make the hurt go away. He quickly filled the sink with soapy water and rolled up his sleeves. He scrubbed at the plates vigorously, remembering that in his youth he had lost himself many times in the work he had done around his Aunt's home. He grabbed a goblet rather aggressively, making the stem break in his hand. The glass cut open his palm and he immediately dropped the pieces into the water. "Damn it!" he shouted, half pleased with the surge of pain and anger he felt. Little springs of blood flowed from the cuts and ran in watery trickles down his palm and onto his wrist. He grabbed the blue dishtowel from the counter and wrapped it around his hand to absorb the blood, all the while trying to force away the heavy lump that had once again formed spontaneously in his throat. Choosing to ignore the fact that the stinging of his eyes had nothing to do with the cuts on his hand, he abandoned the sink and moved to sit at the kitchen table. His body felt very weak and tired as he tried to get his emotions under control. It will do no good to feel sorry for yourself, Potter, he admonished. Stop this bloody blubbering- A loud screech made him jump in his chair. Hedwig had flown into the room and had settled herself on the high back of one of the dining chairs near him. Clicking her beak and ruffling her feathers, she gazed at Harry as though she knew what he was thinking. She had seen him in such a mood many times, Harry knew, and he felt slightly comforted at seeing the bird. She had always been a good friend to him -a constant in his life in many ways when such things were so few and far between. Giving her a very weak smile, Harry stretched out his hand to stroke her feathers. Hedwig hooted, somehow soothing his nerves, and fluttered to his shoulder to nibble at his ear affectionately. "Hello, Hedwig. How have you been, girl?" he asked quietly. She left his shoulder to alight on the tabletop where he could stroke her more easily. Her feathers were soft and a little wet from the snow, he noticed, and he was vaguely curious where she had gone to in this weather. They always kept one of the upstairs windows slightly ajar for her, as no one was usually home to let her in and out, which made for a drafty house, but a happy bird. She nibbled his fingers causing little pinches of displeasure to shoot up his hand, but he didn't pull away. "I've -I've been away for a bit. Are you hungry?" His throat felt as though it had closed off, and even after clearing it, his voice still sounded strange to his ears. She trilled softly in answer and Harry raised his hand lazily to Summon an owl treat from the cupboard. Hedwig immediately tore into her small feast leaving Harry to stare at her gloomily. "You don't happen to know where Ginny is, do you?" he said, swallowing hard. She did not acknowledge his words, but kept tearing at her treat. "I can't find her, Hedwig. I don't know how or where...." He paused and looked out the window. It was snowing heavily, obscuring the view partially so that he could only see dark outlines of familiar objects. The tree right outside the window swayed gracefully as it gathered more snow on its bare limbs. Harry didn't doubt that Ginny would have thought the scene beautiful. Harry wiped at his eyes, and repositioned himself in his chair. "I've got to find her, Hedwig," he whispered, "but I don't know how." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly. "I've got to get some sleep," he muttered finally and stood. He stoked Hedwig absently once more, not noticing Hedwig had finished her meal and was blinking solemnly at him, before stumbling into the den. He would sleep on the couch tonight, as he didn't think he could face the bedroom right then. As Harry slumped onto the couch for a restless night, he didn't notice Hedwig take flight. ~ * ~ Ginny was very hungry. Her stomach growled and chewed upon itself uncomfortably as she sat in the stifling heat of the potion room. She mopped her sweaty brow with her sleeve and stared at the flickering flames underneath the cauldron in a kind of trance. She was of two minds as of this moment: she didn't want to make the Draught, because the consequences were too terrible to merit thinking about, but on the other hand, she knew she had to cooperate to save her and her unborn child's lives. Hours had passed since Malfoy and Rabastan had left her in the antechamber, and she still hadn't managed to make up her mind on what course of action to take. The dragon's blood that had been bubbling for over an hour was now scorched, giving off the foulest of odors. The smell didn't do much for her sensitive stomach, but without a wand, there was little she could do to remedy the stench. Ginny stood, swaying on her feet as dark spots appeared in front of her eyes. She needed to sleep; she needed to eat. She needed Harry. A dry sob wanted to escape her throat, but she swallowed it away and grasped onto the nearest shelf to steady her body. She had no idea how long she had been awake, but she was sure it was very late. While Ginny was grateful not to be in the cold cell she had been in yesterday, this room was just as uncomfortable. The heat from the cauldron was stifling in the small room, her clothes nearly soaked through with sweat, and the smell...well that would only get worse. Her eyes blearily fell onto the rows of vials and corked bottles that were filled with slimy animal body parts and other unappealing ingredients. She knew she had to find something to eat, no matter how disgusting it might taste. Mayfly wings, beetle eyes, rat and pig fetuses, Doxy venom, rose hips -her eyebrows raised in surprise and she pulled the latter down. She unstopped the small, glass jar and dumped its contents into her hand. At least it won't kill me, she thought as she popped a few rose hips into her mouth. They were dry and bitter, but were a better alternative to the Doxy venom or the beetle eyes. She replaced the vial and continued to search for something she could eat; trying to swallow what she already had, but was interrupted by the door being slid open. "What are you doing?" came the disdainful voice of Draco Malfoy as he eyed the cauldron and then Ginny. "How far have you gotten?" "I'm hungry," she said. She didn't want to call attention to the fact that she hadn't progressed any farther along on the Draught. "I didn't ask you if you were hungry," he snarled. "How far have you gotten, Weasel?" Ginny glared at him. "I need to eat. I need water, Malfoy." He took a few short steps to the cauldron and peered inside. "You haven't done anything?" he said, incensed. His face had become very white and his nostrils flared. "Perhaps you need a reminder of why you are here." He walked the short distance around the side of the cauldron and grabbed Ginny's hair, pulling her head backwards. "Do you need me to give you another taste of the Cruciatus, Weasley?" he said, his moist breath hitting her ear and making her squirm. "Have you forgotten who is in charge, perhaps?" Ginny felt his wand tip touch her neck as he pulled harder on her hair. He pushed her away from him, making her hit the shelves behind her. Several corked bottles shattered at the contact and before she could even push away from the shelves, she felt the sting of his hand across her cheek; the dark spots in front of her eyes grew until she lost consciousness. ~ * ~ Hermione tore off her winter cloak furiously and left it on the couch arm. "Ron?" she called loudly into the stillness of their home. "Ron, are you home?" When there was no answer, she felt a shock of annoyance run through her that she quickly quelled. She'd just been at the Burrow, where everyone was stationed, and had left to grab her overnight things. The entire family had congregated to the Burrow, not only as a base of operations, but for moral support as well. Not that it did any good, she thought vehemently. Harry had disappeared over an hour ago without so much as a word to anyone...and right after that mysterious Ministry owl had arrived as well.... Harry was such a pain in the arse sometimes. She walked up the stairs and into the bedroom, craning her neck into the bathroom as she went by. "Ron?" she called out again. She hadn't seen her husband since earlier that day and was starting to worry; he'd been assigned the duty of talking with the Daily Prophet about printing an article about Ginny's disappearance. But that shouldn't have taken all day and into the night. She frowned as she pulled off her boots, balancing precariously on one foot at a time, before leaving them in the middle of the bedroom floor. Bill had been with Ron, she knew, so nothing untoward had probably happened, but she was still somewhat worried. Her worry for Ron was nothing compared to her annoyance at Harry, however. Thinking of her best friend and his refusal to communicate was enough to make her want to pull her hair out in frustration. "I don't know how Harry expects anything to get done if he won't tell me anything," she muttered under her breath. She pulled off her clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, something she would have normally chastised Ron for doing, and went to the large chest of drawers for her nightgown. "Running off at the drop of a hat...really, hasn't he learned anything?" She jerkily pulled a warm flannel over her head and stalked to the closet to pull out her travel bag. "Honestly!" she raged, as she shoved articles of her and Ron's clothing into the bag, not really paying attention to the fact that she hadn't packed him any underwear. "Hermione, something wrong?" said Ron as he entered the bedroom. Hermione looked up, shocked, and sat on the bed. "No. Sorry, I'm just a little...perturbed at Harry." Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "I can certainly tell something's upset you. You didn't hang up your cloak...and look what you've done to my clean floor," He said, motioning to the piles of clothes and deserted boots. He smiled weakly at his wife but it was a smile Hermione didn't return. "When did you get home?" Hermione asked. "Where have you been?" "I just walked in...Mum said you'd come home to get some clothes so I thought I'd help," said Ron, making his way over to the bed and sitting next to her. "What's happened? You look frazzled." Hermione blew a few hairs out of her face and turned to Ron. "Harry won't tell me anything," she said heatedly. "Well, that's nothing new. He's always been a bit secretive hasn't he?" Hermione ignored this and continued. "He got this letter about some Ministry hearing an hour ago and he wouldn't explain anything to me about it. He just ran off for your dad. We're trying to help him and he won't even let us in on what's happening." Ron frowned. "I just saw dad and he didn't say anything about a hearing. Are you sure?" "Yes, very sure. It came right when we were talking about Ginny -" Hermione stopped, suddenly remembering something that made her heart sink: Ginny was pregnant. She opened her mouth to tell Ron, but was stunned to silence by the look on his face. His benign blue eyes were pained and troubled and his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, something he only did when he felt on edge. Looking at him properly, she didn't know how she could have missed it. "Ron, what's happened?" she asked, placing her small hand in his. It was cold and clammy. He brought his eyes, which had been staring blankly into space, down to hers, "I nearly killed someone today, Hermione." His hand tightened around hers and she saw his jaw muscle clench in a familiar fashion. "What?!" He nodded solemnly, now looking at his lap. "Yeah, I ran into Malfoy on the street this afternoon. I was on my way to meet Bill so we could go to the Prophet to give them information on Ginny, and that's when I saw him." "Malfoy? I haven't heard anything about him for ages," said Hermione with a frown. "I know...funny that he turns up now that Ginny's gone missing." "What did he say?" "He said something snide, as always, about the family and I ignored him at first. But then...," Ron continued, looking at Hermione. She could see his face redden and his eyes grow dark with anger. "Then he mentioned something about Ginny, and I lost it." "What did he say?" asked Hermione again. Now she wasn't at all disturbed that her husband had said he'd nearly killed Malfoy; she wanted to know what Malfoy had said to deserve it. "He said something about her being the only one smart enough to marry into money and then he said, 'but Potter's money isn't going to save her now.'" Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her fingers. "Ron, he knows something." "Don't I know it?" he agreed. "I pulled my wand on him but Bill stopped me. I was ready to kill him, Hermione." "Oh, Ron," said Hermione, unconsciously squeezing his hand even tighter and giving him a hug. "What do we do?" "We have to tell Harry," he said, his voice echoing strangely into Hermione's ear which was pressed against him. "Tonight." ~ * ~ Was it daytime? Ginny wondered. She certainly felt like it was morning as her stomach churned in a sickening, very routine way. She rubbed her eyes and squinted through the dark. She was back in the cold cell she had been in once before, her fingers and toes like ice. Her breath rose in curls before her face and it took a moment for her to realize that she wasn't alone in the cell. "Ah, you're awake," said Rabastan in his weak French accent as he stood over her form, his wand in his hand. "You aren't as tough as I had thought you would have been. Draco barely laid a hand on you and you passed out." Ginny glared at him but kept her mouth shut. "I have something for you to see," he said, delighted, as he pulled her into a sitting position. He gestured to the opposite end of the cell, where a slight form was hunched up against the cold. Ginny could see the body's breath curling into the air just as hers did, and a sickening swoop ran through her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. It was Cindy, her lusterless, short hair peeking through the top of a tightly drawn robe. All the breath left Ginny momentarily as she gazed upon her friend's sleeping form. Had they really taken her memory, she wondered. Ginny hadn't wanted to believe Draco and Rabastan, but she didn't doubt their cruelness. "She's cold," Ginny croaked out. She didn't know why she felt like she needed to say it, but the urge to aid her friend in any way was strong. "Give her something -another cloak- it doesn't matter." "I'm not giving her anything," he said icily and Ginny's anger was immediately kindled. She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, wishing that she had enough strength to cause him serious injury. She pulled herself off of the cold ground and stood, the black spots winking before her eyes once again. Rabastan raised his wand at her threateningly, but Ginny paid him little heed. Instead, she made her way over to Cindy and unclasped her own robes to lay them over her friend's slightly-shaking body. Ginny's exposed upper-left arm immediately broke into more goose pimples, but she ignored them. She was much more concerned about her friend. "Cindy?" she tried tentatively, placing her hand on the solid lump. Cindy moved slightly, drawing the cloaks more firmly around her but she did not respond to Ginny's voice. "Cindy, it's me, Ginny." Nothing. Ginny gently peeled some of the cloak away from Cindy's face and saw that her eyes were screwed shut as though pretending to be asleep, though not very convincingly so. "Cindy, it's OK. It's me, Ginny." One eye relaxed after a beat but only opened a slit. Another beat, and Cindy's face relaxed, her grey eyes exposed. "Don't hurt me," Cindy croaked, making Ginny's heart ache painfully. "I won't." Cindy hesitated then shifted slightly to reveal her full face to Ginny. Her face was horribly bruised. She had a large cut over her right eye that needed tending and a rather large welt on her cheek that had split open. Ginny turned her head sharply to glare at Rabastan. "What did you do to her?" "She was punished because you would not do as we asked," he said fluidly, meeting Ginny's glare with raised eyebrows. Ginny closed her eyes tightly against the news. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes and she had to pause to calm herself. She turned back to her friend. "Do you remember me, Cindy?" "No." She'd only whispered it, but the word rang loudly in Ginny's head like a bell. It was true; they'd taken her memory. Ginny could see the blank stare of her friend, and suddenly, everything became so much more real. "There, see?" said Rabastan quietly. "Her mind is gone." He spoke clearly, but his voice seemed far away, as though he was at one end of a long tunnel, and she was at the other. "She is useless to you..." Ginny bit her lip, silent tears falling down her face. They meant what they had said; they would hurt Cindy depending on Ginny's actions. Now they would kill her if Ginny did not perform to the expected standard. "I'm sorry, Cindy. I'm so sorry." Her friend blinked at her a few times but said nothing. Ginny felt completely drained. She had no fight left in her; she had tried to withstand but she had failed miserably. She would have to do as they had asked. ~ * ~ Harry turned over on the too-small couch, trying in vain to get comfortable. The blanket he was using wasn't meant to cover a grown man, only a lap, but he didn't want to get a larger covering; he wanted to be uncomfortable because he figured that wherever Ginny was, she was probably much worse off. Punching his pillow, he turned onto his other side. The den was dark, only a few swaying shadows, cast by the trees kept his eyes away from Ginny's usual corner. He focused on the shadows, not wanting to look upon her neat stacks of books or her half-finished mug of tea. He'd seen it earlier, there were lip marks left near the rim from her lipstick...she'd been drinking it while she'd read some of her poems. He bit his lip and turned onto his other side again, his face against the couch back. Whoosh! The dying fire suddenly erupted into green flames and Harry, in his hurry to turn around, fell onto the floor. "Good, you're up," Ron said darkly, his face illuminated with a green glow. "I'm coming over." "Ron! What-" Harry shouted, fumbling for his glasses, but Ron's head had already gone from the fire. An overwhelming sense of dread spread through Harry. Ron had sounded upset, angry almost. He sat down shakily, trying to prepare himself for bad news. The fire burned brightly once more and out stepped Ron's lanky form. "Hermione's coming too," he said, pulling the desk chair around to face Harry. He sat in it and turned his gaze to the fire, which had suddenly sprung to life once more, to see Hermione step into the room. Ron stood and offered his chair to Hermione before conjuring his own as Harry wrung his hands in dread. "What?" Harry asked. "What's happened?" He was perched on the very edge of the couch, ready to spring. Hermione looked concerned, Harry noticed, while Ron looked intensely serious. "I saw Malfoy today, Harry," Ron started, his jaw set. "He knows something about Ginny." Harry's eyes traversed between his two friends quickly, searching for an explanation. "What do you mean?" he asked in a harsh whisper. Harry couldn't think of anything worse than Malfoy having his wife. He'd kill her. "Are you sure?" "Yes," Ron said, nodding his head. "I'm very sure." "He said something about your money not being able to save her now," Hermione interjected. "How on earth would Malfoy have known Ginny needed being saved?" Harry stood abruptly, his fists clenched, breath coming in quick spurts. He should have known Malfoy would be behind it somehow. He'd taken Remus from him as well, in a very brutal manner, and Harry cursed himself for not killing Malfoy when he'd had the chance. "I don't have to remind you of what he's capable of-" Harry said. Ron nodded. "I nearly tore his throat out when he mentioned her." "Harry," said Hermione nervously, watching him pace, "just because Malfoy knows something about Ginny, doesn't mean that he's the one who has her." Harry stopped his movements and pinned Hermione with a glare. "If you think that I'm going to sit by and do nothing when Malfoy-" "I didn't say you had to sit and do nothing, Harry," she interrupted, her voice deadly serious. "I'm just pointing out the fact that Malfoy has connections...he may have only heard about Ginny being taken." "You think that he was just having me on, then?" asked Ron, looking incredulous. Hermione shook her head. "I'm only saying...look, you know how he likes to taunt you two. Telling Ron something about Ginny would certainly get back to you, Harry. He might only be doing it to get a rise." "That doesn't matter!" shouted Harry. "If he knows something, then I'm bloody well going to go and beat it out of him." He turned to Ron, "And I suppose you think she's right?" "No," said Ron. "I think that you have to find him, Harry. And I'm coming with you."
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