Chapter One:

The dreams had been an intermittent but disturbing companion for almost six years now. Even when the whole ordeal had been spinning viciously around her in her waking hours, they had twisted through her mind in the dark silence of her bed. Though she had been actually living it, she hadn't known the reality of her midnight ghosts at the time, had only had some vague inclination of what it all really meant. Not until her mind and magic had seeped back into her cold, stiff body as it lay on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets had she realized the identity of the specters.

For months after the close of her first year, she'd struggled with the nightly flood of memories previously suppressed by the magic of the diary. It had gotten easier over the years, if only because her sleeping thoughts had finally sorted through the majority of what had really happened. Still there were pieces she didn't quite understand, couldn’t quite put into context. It was frustrating and scary that she might never know the full truth of her own life.

It was equally disturbing, however, when different bits abruptly fell into place.

No matter how many times it happened, she still rocked back on her heels, still felt her gut plummet as realizations sank in at one point or another. She'd stopped dead just the night before as the voices of Gryffindor's Golden Trio had drifted out into the hallway. There had always been flashes that had fit nowhere, of course. Bits and pieces that she'd known somehow, didn't belong to her. But until she'd heard them whispering furiously about the research Hermione had apparently done to determine the identity and location of the missing Horcruxes, she hadn't understood to whom those flashes, those memories, had belonged. Until their discussion had reached her ears in the narrow hallway outside her brother's room, she hadn't fully grasped how much of Tom Riddle had remained in her head.

All that night, all the next day, she had tried to sort through the blurred edges of memory that she'd discovered in the recesses of her mind, memories that had once belonged in the mind of the young Dark Lord. Despite the inklings, the suspicions, she hadn't been able to truly acknowledge that particular explanation. It was a shock therefore, to know for sure that at least a lingering impression of the soul-part housed in the diary had leeched into her subconscious. It was even more disturbing to feel those vestiges drift forward in dreams and cling to waking thoughts. It was even worse, however, to look at herself and know that those drifting, clinging patches of cold darkness had been within her for over five years.

That thought triggered a feeling of self-hatred and regret almost as strong as what she had felt when she'd realized that she had been responsible for setting the Basilisk free. She'd struggled with that too, as the hours had ticked by, her mind switching back and forth between the frightening slideshow of fragmented revelations, and sickening fear. The mental acrobatics had kept her occupied and isolated for hours, and it was once more dark and quiet when she left her room and headed towards the kitchen to scrounge up some leftovers to quiet her rumbling stomach.

She hadn't even made it to the staircase before she was halted in her tracks. They were talking again, and though that thought made her want to quicken her steps for fear of a repeat of the night before, she couldn't quite make herself move past the pool of candlelight that spilled out from under Ron's door. It was shut, of course, and most likely locked, but as the room's three occupants were still technically underage, none of them had wanted to risk the ire of the Ministry, or Molly Weasley, by casting any spells to block their voices from penetrating the wood and reaching out into the silent hallway.

Because of that, Ginny barely had to strain to pick up the strands of their conversation as Harry recounted for his friends, the argument their former Headmaster had laid out for him the night the aged wizard had died. The bespectacled youth detailed the elder man's suspicions as to what the remaining Horcruxes might be. Hermione chimed in every few moments, adding the references she had found in regards to the history of Helga Hufflepuff's cup and her own interpretations and opinions as to its location.

Wrong. The word echoed between her ears as the whispered discussion continued. That's not where it is, she thought.

A vision of a long marble hallway framed on either side by tall glass cabinets flashed brightly through her mind. In the instant the foreign memory struck her, the small redhead had a vague recollection of smug satisfaction, and an image of a delicate, two-handled, gold cup. It sat innocently among a collection of cups and chalices, all of precious metal and all expertly carved and shaped and gleaming on one of the glass covered shelves. The picture in her head didn't show the badger etched into the cup, but she knew it was there. She remembered tracing the golden likeness with fingers that weren't hers before covering it with a spell and placing it on that shelf. She even remembered slipping unnoticed from the heavily warded hallway after depositing the treasure.

The youngest Weasley reached out blindly, steadying herself by placing a suddenly shaking hand on the wall. She remembered a strong sense of pride, a feeling of utter superiority while watching droves of witches and wizards stroll along, admiring the glass shelves and the ancient treasures they housed. The masses never knew exactly what they were looking at, but she remembered knowing, remembered taking a perverse sense of pleasure from the way group after group fawned over the cleverly disguised treasure sitting innocently before them.

Ginny shook her head, forcing the thoughts and images from her mind. They refused to fully retreat, however, lingering instead in the corner of her awareness as the Trio kept talking, making plans for their secret departure and the hunts that would follow.

Wrong. They're going to the wrong place, all the wrong places, she said to herself as they planned it all out, mere feet from her.

A growing sense of unease settled around the redhead. Her brother and his friends didn't know what they were doing, couldn't know how to find the objects they sought. She considered for a moment, telling them what she knew, offering to help them in their search. The idea was discarded almost as soon as it formed. If they even believed her in the first place, there was no way they would let her help. Harry had already shown that he felt her incapable of dealing with the fight ahead, and she knew her brother would be just as compelled to smother and over-protect her. Yet without her help, without heeding her advice, they would undoubtedly land themselves in big trouble.

The word trap slithered through her mind, and she leaned more heavily on the wall as her free hand rose to hold her head. Regaining memories she herself had never really possessed to start with was never pleasant, but when they returned so quickly, one after another, it was nearly painful. It was certainly overwhelming.

So many pictures and sensations; so much knowledge and information. None of it was hers, yet it was in her head, forcing its way into her brain whether there was room or not. At this exact moment, however, the pain and discomfort wasn't as much a concern as the content of her most recent recollections. For all that the flood was sending waves of pain and nausea crashing through her, Ginny knew the things she had just remembered could lead the Order to one of the remaining remnants of Voldemort's black soul. It could also prevent the Trio from following a carefully laid trail that would only lead to their deaths.

For all her books and cleverness, Hermione could not grasp the twists of the Dark Lord's venomous mind. But Ginny could, and she knew, even without the rest of the fragmented memory that had warned her, that Voldemort had planned for a contingency such as Hermione's research. The Order knew that the Dark wizard had thought quite a ways ahead when he'd spilt his soul into pieces, but no one else truly realized how far ahead he'd planned. No one else had thought about the fact that most any information they garnered from books and spells would have also been available to a young Tom Riddle, and would have been taken into account when he'd chosen his Horcruxes and their hiding places.

With the experiences of her first year still shadowing her thoughts, however, she had an advantage over everyone else. And she fully intended to utilize it. She could, and would, prevent the would-be seventh-years from falling into Voldemort's traps. Even if Ron, Harry, and Hermione wouldn't take her word over the other girl's research, there were other ways to keep them from following their foolish plans. Telling her mother that the three were going to sneak away after the wedding would keep them at the Burrow for a short while longer.

But even wards perfected over years of dealing with Fred and George would only hold those three for so long. She needed someone that could hold the infamous Trio indefinitely. There was only one person still alive that might be able to manage that.

Moody.

Swallowing past the nausea in her throat, the witch returned to her room just long enough to pull on shoes and a worn black robe that would fade easily into the shadows. Once having accomplished that, she slipped quietly from the warmth of her childhood home. A quick silencing charm aimed at her feet left her racing soundlessly across the fields surrounding the Burrow, until she deemed herself far enough from the house to risk the noise of the Knight Bus's arrival.

After that, it was merely a matter of holding out her wand hand, and giving Stan Shunpike's replacement a destination far enough from Grimmauld Place that her going there wouldn't leave any clues as to her destination. She was left with a longer trek than she would have otherwise wanted, especially after the jarring ride, but she managed her journey in a decent amount of time. The sun had yet to make it over the horizon when she found herself standing in the foyer of the old Black home.

She was grateful for the cover of shadow, and the light of predawn that allowed her to make her way through the house unnoticed by even Mrs. Black's portrait. The headquarters were by no means deserted, but the half-light of early morning helped hide her, and the tricks she had finally remembered learning from Tom her first year, led the young witch to her destination undisturbed. She stood silently in the hall for a moment, gathering her vaulted Gryffindor bravery before stepping forward and casting a little-known variation of Alohomora.

She felt a brief pang of guilt at breaking in, absently asking herself why she didn't just knock, but paid the question little heed, listening instead to the strange sixth-sense she'd seemed to have acquired during her first year at Hogwarts. For all that she trusted the acting head of the Order, she had a feeling that she needed to get into his room right then, without him knowing, if she wanted to stand a chance of having him listen to what she had to say.

She did exactly that, swishing and flicking in the wordless manner that she'd seen herself doing in dreams, slipping silently through the door once the wards had dropped. A lubricating charm kept the hinges from screeching as she shut the door behind her, and Restituo Incantatem replaced the wards, leaving everything just as it had been upon her arrival. So it was that she made it all the way to the adjoining room before Moody's eye swiveled in its socked and spotted her slinking unnoticed into his lair.

She made no sound when he spun to face her, however. She didn't so much as jump at the wand he was suddenly brandishing in her direction. All Ginny Weasley's attention was riveted on the room's third occupant as he sat in the large, overstuffed chair by the fireplace, his shriveled and blackened hand resting stilly in the lap of his florescent robes.

End Chapter One

Author's Notes: Restituo, according to online Lation dictionaries, means: restore, put back, replace. Restituo Incantatem is meant to replace previous spells or wards

Chapter Two:

He found great pleasure in knowing things, especially things he wasn't supposed to, things that no one else thought he knew. Knowledge was a form of power, after all, and what Slytherin didn't want that, didn't relish possessing it? Certainly not him. He wanted it, had it, relished it, and when the time was right, he used it. When it came to the piece of information he was absolutely not supposed to have, the thing no one suspected him of knowing, the time to make use of his knowledge had come at the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts.

He'd very much enjoyed confronting them with what he had known, had relished their surprise, and their anger. Well, only one of them had been angry, but it had still been rather satisfying to watch the emotion fill their faces. They hadn't seen it coming, had thought that they had hid it so well, their true motives, their true allegiance, their true goal. But he had seen it, had known that they were planning something big, that they were going to do something important, something worthy of his involvement. So he'd cornered his Head of House one night, told the professor that he knew what was going on and that he wanted in on it. The elder wizard had taken him to his accomplice immediately, and after a dose of Veritaserum and several rounds of questions, Draco Malfoy had been given some of the most valuable information in the Wizarding world: the plans for Albus Dumbledore's apparent execution.

From there it had been relatively easy to ensure the plan's success, though keeping everyone else unaware of his intentions had been more tedious than he would have liked. All the time he had to spend in the Room of Requirement did do wonders for his grades, though, and with the added bonus of making it appear as though he were doing it without studying. All in all, the year had gone quite well for him, leaving everyone in his life with the impression that he was the perfectly intelligent and devoted son, Slytherin, and assassin-to-be. That is, until the end of the year, when it had all come to fruition and his life had gone to hell.

Sure, the plan had gone off with only a few hitches, its execution leaving them with the results they had needed, but the collateral damage had been significant. As necessary as it had been to ensure they had the appropriate audience, and the right escort, he'd still had to get the Death Eaters into the school without the warning that would have protected the students and ruined their plan.

While it had given the Potions master the perfect opportunity to step in and regain face before the Dark Lord, he'd still had to pretend to be a cowardly would-be-murderer. Though the man would have died anyway for breaking his Vow, he'd had to stand by and watch his Head of House be killed while in the guise of the Headmaster. And despite the fact that it was the only way he would get through it all in one piece, he'd had to let Albus Dumbledore, Polyjuiced to resemble Severus Snape, cast what appeared to be the Killing Curse on the Malfoy heir once they had returned to Voldemort's hideout in punishment for his failure on the tower.

Draco didn't like knowing that everyone thought him an incompetent coward; he didn't like knowing all but Dumbledore and Moody thought him dead. But he enjoyed knowing that their plan had worked, and that for the two weeks the aged wizard had kept up the charade, he'd been able gather much useful information from the Death Eaters and Dark Lord that thought him the triumphant and loyal murderer of Albus Dumbledore. He enjoyed knowing that he had provided invaluable aid in an important and secret endeavor that had left the half-blooded snake with a false, and dangerous, sense of security.

What he did not enjoy was where his involvement in the plan had left him. No matter how many times the Headmaster had told him it was the safest place for him to be, it did not change the fact the Draco Malfoy was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the Muggle world.

He'd dealt with it at first by telling himself that it was only temporary, that he would only be there until Dumbledore revealed himself and could assure the Order that Draco was on their side and could therefore be hidden with them. But he knew that the old wizard wouldn't risk anyone finding out that he was alive until it could help the Order strategically. If Voldemort were to discover the truth, not only would it rob them of the element of surprise, it would put the Dark Lord on the defensive and make him twice as careful and suspicious. Even knowing that, however, it took the blond nearly a month to accept that he would be stuck where he was for an indefinite length of time.

Such acceptance was not an easy thing for the Malfoy heir. For the first week, he spent all his time and energy hating the Headmaster for leaving him with a family of Muggles, even if the Tonks were technically related to his aunt's husband and so, through marriage, to his mother and himself. Then as he thought more of the cause for which he had given up so much, he began to hate his situation for keeping him from the figurative front lines where he could actually accomplish something worthy of his time. The money that Snape had funneled from his ancestral vault into an account for him before he'd died mollified him somewhat, however, and after several days, he shifted his resentment onto his parents.

The pressure and expectations the Malfoys had heaped upon him for most of his life weighed heavily on him even two and a half weeks after being freed from them and the life of servitude and hypocrisy that they would have trapped him into. Eventually that faded as the hours and days ticked by in the small room he had been allotted in the Tonks' home, and he was able to work past his familial animosity. Upon doing so, he refocused his frustration and anger on a much more deserving target that could undoubtedly sustain his hate: Voldemort.

Targeting the Dark Lord served as more than just an outlet for his negative emotions, it also provided him with the incentive he needed to leave the confines of his new room, and begin to consider venturing out into the Muggle world itself. It was hardly befitting a Malfoy, or a Slytherin to cower in his room, after all, and even if it meant adapting to Muggle life, snakes were survivors. He would survive this trial, for however long the Headmaster left him stranded there. It was not a matter of lowering himself to Muggle existence, but rather a matter of a Malfoy rising to the challenge of his own survival in trying circumstances.

And he would rise to that challenge, he would not be beaten by so small an obstacle as simple Muggle elec-trisy or whatever the hell it was. He wouldn't. No matter how many hours it took him to understand how the bloody hell to make himself a meal in that uh-van contraption. The more difficult it was to get a grasp on Muggle technology and culture, the more determined he became to master it, to carve out a suitably comfortable life for himself.

He devoted all his time to the task for over two weeks, attacking the problem as he would any particularly challenging spell or potion. He spent hours combing books on everything from cooking to car repair, reading sports and teen magazines, watching documentaries and sit-coms - once he figured out how to use the telly, that was - anything and everything he could find that would give him an advantage.

When he wasn't reading, watching TV, or listening to the music and news programs on the radio, he was grilling Garald and Coral Tonks on the strange customs and practices his research was describing. He spent hours watching his keepers use different appliances and bits of technology, often having them explain their actions in detail before replicating it himself. The computer was by far the most difficult thing for him to learn, but his prideful determination allowed him to become fairly competent after only two days and one sleepless night.

All the time and effort he put into his study of, and acclimation to, Muggle life felt nearly too much as his enthusiasm began to wane after a few weeks; but Garald's hearty affirmations and Coral's cheerful approval left him feeling strangely proud. Now a certain cold pride had always accompanied him as a Malfoy, but the pride he felt when the Tonks expressed their happiness with his progress was a simpler, warmer pride that he had been previously unfamiliar with. Now that he had made its acquaintance, however, he found himself more than a little eager to earn more of it.

That eagerness made the blond all the more frustrated by his own apparent inability to venture out into the world he had prepared himself so painstakingly to enter. The first day after he had proclaimed himself proficient enough in Muggle to leave the house, he simply wanted to rest up from his vigorous training and studying. The second he thought he should review things one more time. The third it was a little too windy to make an outing pleasant. The fourth he had a headache.

By the fifth day he was out of readily available excuses and was forced to admit that it was more than his unfamiliarity with Muggles that made him reluctant to go amongst them. He was, in all actuality, the slightest bit afraid of the world that lay outside the Tonks' door. He was used to being comfortable, sure of himself, sure of how he would be received as a Malfoy and confident of his ability to react should he not be welcomed. Here, however, he was not. For all his preparations, he was not comfortable utilizing his new knowledge, he knew no one, and he had no course available should he encounter any unforeseen circumstances. And being both a Malfoy and a Slytherin he was cautious and suspicious enough to come up with several scenarios that would require him to need options that would be beyond him without the use of his wand, which he could not do for fear of revealing his position.

The admission left him with more than enough reason to go, if only to prove that he could. So on day six, he left the Tonks' home and walked the ten minutes to the small clothing store Coral had told him about. Once there, Draco had relaxed somewhat as the employee waited on him respectfully, and cheered a bit when he was able to find a new set of trousers and a comfortable yet stylish jumper to augment his wardrobe. The fact that he was able to count out the required amount to pay for the purchase bolstered his confidence enough to convince him to continue his excursion at a nearby sandwich shop.

The sense of near normalcy that surrounded the small restaurant eased the blond's nerves to the point where he lingered over his sandwich and simply watched the Muggles around him go about their day. He listened with half an ear to the spirited debate that consumed two middle-aged men as to the merits of their favorite football teams, and the cheerful conversation of a group of young women, which seemed to center around the picture that had been released the day before at a local cinema.

The pitch of the women's voices began to grate on his ears after a while, but the topic gave him the urge to see exactly what they were prattling on about. Which is how, after once more handling the Muggle currency correctly, and even managing to determine the appropriate tip, Draco Malfoy found himself ensconced in a dark theater, waiting rather anxiously for the film to start. He was not disappointed. Although the two kids sitting several rows over made an annoying number of poorly hushed comments to one another, and his feet discovered a tendency to stick to the floor, he quite enjoyed himself. He liked the lack of commercials he had become accustomed to on the television, and the size of the screen and quality of the sound greatly enhanced the experience. As for the movie itself, it lived up to the appraisal he had overheard.

But of everything, it was one of the previews for another movie that had him thinking rather furiously that night after returning to the Tonks' residence. All nerves and discomfort that might have otherwise lingered from his first foray into the Muggle world were in the back of his mind as he played the scene over and over in his mind. He couldn't remember the name of the actor that had been announced, or the movie title that had been advertised, but he couldn't forget the proclamation that had accompanied that scene.

'One of the best martial arts films of the decade,' it had said. Martial arts. It wasn't dueling, but it may just be the Muggle equivalent, which would have to be enough, because while he may have been wandless, he'd be damned if he allowed himself to be defenseless.

Not that he was scared or anything.

End Chapter Two

Chapter Three:

Ginny Weasley had an instant for fear to sweep over her at the sight, an instant to fight the panic at the thought that she had somehow drowned once more in foreign memories. The moment passed quickly, however, leaving her shaky and nauseous with relief and not a small amount of confusion. She was a mere observer amongst the remnants of the young Dark Lord, after all; his recollections never reacted to her presence as the two in the room were so obviously doing. Moody had reacted so quickly, in fact, that it took a noticeable effort for the grizzled man to pull up his wand before he automatically cursed his intruder.

The other aged wizard reacted with little more than a surprised widening of his eyes as he took in the petite redhead's panic-frozen form.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here, girl?"

Ginny was jolted back to herself at the booming demand, the young witch fighting the instinct to step back as the full force of Mad Eye Moody's agitated suspicion landed unerringly on her. She'd always been intimidated by the former Auror, even after learning that the one she had known her third year had actually been an imposter, and so she was rather unsure how it was that she managed to hold her ground when he grasped her arms rather roughly.

"How'd you get here? Who sent you?"

Before she began to stutter an answer through rapidly building nerves, a calm voice broke through Moody's harsh shouts. "Now, now, Alastor, give the child some space. There's no need to scare her, she will be more than willing to answer any questions we may have, isn't that correct, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded stiffly, taking a moment to regain her breath and shift ever-so-slightly away from the scowling wizard. Neither men missed her action, nor the fact that she deliberately but subtly rolled her shoulders and loosened her grip on her wand as she lowered it to her side in a move that seemed outwardly relaxed, but in truth left her in the perfect position to raise her wand in the most efficient and accurate way possible. The observation left the wizards impressed and wary in equal measure.

Any questions that may have been aimed at her were forestalled, however, by the deafeningly silent question burning in the witch's brown eyes as they fixed on the wizard still seated before the fire. "You're alive."

The statement was unnecessary in it's repetition of the obvious, but was something she hadn't been able to keep to herself, almost needing to put it into words in order to process the jarring information. Blue eyes, lacking a noticeable amount of their usual sparkle, simply stared back at her, no response coming from either wizard as her words echoed in the small sitting room. In the silence, her gaze narrowed, sharpening as the thoughts raced and spun in her mind. The shocking facts scattered previous assumptions, merged with devious insight that had been surfacing within her over the last months, and left her with a cold but logical assessment.

"You tricked him. You fooled everyone in order to trick him into thinking you were dead."

Both wizards regarded her with hidden speculation, both forming and reforming opinions as the youngest Weasley seized their intentions without hesitation.

"No one saw it, no one doubted, which means at least the body was real, so someone died. Someone that looked like you. Polyjuice only lasts an hour because it has to fight against the cells' natural arrangement. An expert Potions master may be able to lengthen the effects, but not more than a couple hours. Once someone dies, however, the cells stop reproducing, stop fighting the potion, so it wouldn't wear off at all. So someone else is buried with your face, someone who hasn't been missed in the last two months."

Brown and blue locked, the former brightening with realization, the latter dulled with regret even as the gaze swept over her with consideration. "Yes, Miss Weasley, that is precisely correct."

More questions piled up almost visibly in her eyes, but neither said another word, the silence stretching almost painfully between them until it was broken as the third occupant of the small room finally reached the end of his patience.

"You figured that out pretty quick there for a fifth-year witch. Too quick if you ask me."

Only the former Headmaster's warning glance kept the veteran from taking hold of her once more. But even Dumbledore couldn't keep his magical eye from spinning a full circuit around the room and switching modes as it zeroed in on the witch, checking for all manner of spells and potions and magical deceits. Finding no evidence that the young redhead was anyone but Ginny Weasley, however, he grudgingly backed down and let the older wizard question her.

"That was a rather remarkable display of deduction, Miss Weasley. I must say I am almost as impressed with it as I was with the surprising ease with which you slipped out of your house and infiltrated both the Headquarters and these rooms without even Alastor or myself becoming aware of your presence until you were upon us. I would be most interested in how you managed such a feat."

Memories both her own, and not, flickered at the edge of her thoughts. Her, reading from the diary, practicing the spells that appeared on the worn pages, Tom's encouragement forming on the parchment before her. Her, using those spells, and others, going through the unfamiliar motions without conscious thought or control as she crept through the castle's dark corridors.

She pushed it all further into her mind, forcing herself to remain focused on the equally distressing knowledge that had led her there that night. The same fear and urgency that had sped her flight only an hour before surged through her once more. "I'll explain what I can, but first, you have to stop them. Hermione thinks she's found them, but it's a trap and they're going to go, they're going to get themselves killed, and they won't listen to me, and mum couldn't hold them if she tried. You have to do something."

Dumbledore rose for the first time, placing his good hand on her shoulder and steering her gently to a nearby chair. "From the beginning if you would, Miss Weasley."

Ginny took a deep breath as the two wizards took seats across from her, tried to steady her nerves enough to speak calmly. "Hermione's been researching, trying to find the rest of the Horcruxes."

Moody's eye narrowed at her last word, but remained silent as she continued. "She thinks she's figured out what they are, where they are, and she and Ron and Harry are planning to go find them after Bill's wedding. But she's wrong, he knew someone would look where she did, use the same books. He planned for it, he left a trap, and they're going to walk right into it. They're going to die if you don't stop them."

An edge of panic seeped into her words as she tried to explain the urgency of the matter to the only two people who could help her. Her nerves were scraping themselves raw and she couldn't keep herself from jumping in her seat when the former Auror leaned towards her with a suspicious glare.

"How do you know what Voldemort knew, what he planned? What aren't you telling us, girl?" The harsh words sent her pulse racing and her eyes falling to her hands as she fisted them around the wand she had never put away.

She managed a shuddering breath, forcing herself to say it before Moody followed through with the obvious urge to leap across the distance between them and force the answer from her.

"I see it." She felt her skin grow cold and her stomach roll as it always did when she thought about what was happening to her. "Bits and pieces. Flashes. Memories."

Ginny took another breath, tried to still the tremors making her hands shake in her lap. "At first it was just dreams. About my first year."

She chanced a quick look at the former Headmaster but couldn't keep her eyes on him when she saw him looking directly at her. "Then it was about other stuff, stuff I never did, places I've never been, spells I have never cast before, but know exactly how to use. I remember what happened, but they aren't my memories." This time she was able to maintain eye contact, her gaze pleading.

"It's started happening when I'm awake now. I'll hear something, or see something, and it'll remind me of stuff, but it's stuff I didn't know before. I- I think it's stuff he knew, memories he left in the diary that got in me, in my head."

She refused to look anywhere but into those sharp blue eyes as they stared at her, assessed her. She half expected Moody to tackle her from the chair, to accuse her of being under some kind of spell, a tool of the Dark Lord. But the paranoid wizard simply stared, at her, at Dumbledore, and thought. And planned.

End Chapter Three

Chapter Five:

It wasn't like anything he'd ever done. The movements utilized muscles he hadn't been aware he'd possessed, even with all the hours he'd put in training for, and playing, Quidditch. His experience with the most noble of sports did, however, serve him in good stead insofar as his balance and agility were concerned. Still, the first week or two had found him on the floor more often than not. Such failure was not acceptable for a Malfoy, even considering how completely foreign the mere concept of physical combat happened to be. He'd held his own on the pitch, after all, and Quidditch was a very physical sport, especially when one is involved in a Slytherin/Gryffindor match.

With such a view, and a large amount of stubborn Malfoy pride, Draco soon developed an impressive aptitude for Muggle martial arts. And somewhere during the long painful hours of practice and training, he'd discovered he rather enjoyed it. He enjoyed it so much, and was so pleased with his progress, in fact, that he expanded beyond Aikido. He chose to move on to Tae Kwon Do because of its emphasis on stand-up fighting. He quickly immersed himself in the exchange of punches and blocks, the increasingly complicated footwork and kicks.

He was praised more than once on the speed with which he picked up the techniques and the dedication he showed to his studies, but more than anything, the thing that made him keep going was the raw rush he got when he fought, hand to hand and face to face. It was so much more intimate and intense than dueling, so much more satisfying when you sent the other person to the floor with your own strength, felt the other person's flesh against your fist.

In the months he had been taking Muggle martial arts classes, he'd found a new sense of pride in his own abilities and strength that he doubted even the House Cup would have given him. Watching the majority of the game from above and only getting to actually play for the duration of the chase to the Snitch just didn't compare to taking, blocking, and giving every punch and kick that could be pulled from screaming muscles. At least that's what he would think to himself after a sparing session; he didn't think much at all beyond the next blow, the next block, when he was fighting.

Draco Malfoy spared none of his senses for anything besides his opponent as he ducked to evade a well-aimed kick, and raised an arm to keep a large fist from connecting with his face, then jabbed with his own hand, struck out with his own foot and felt the shots connect solidly with their targets.

"All right, well done, gentlemen."

The young wizard pulled the fist he'd been prepared to send towards the other man's face, straightened and helped his opponent to his feet before stepping back and bowing, then turning to face the older man that had just called a stop to the practice bout.

"Wonderful work today. Draco, your footwork is coming along superbly. We'll go over those new steps tomorrow."

The blond nodded respectfully, keeping his face carefully composed while he said goodbye and headed towards the showers to clean up. By the time he had reached his destination, he was having trouble holding on to the solemnity though; an expression of pure enjoyment stealing over his features as he stepped up to his locker and reached for his clean clothes.

"Having fun, eh?"

He turned at the question, raising a single blond brow at the grinning brunette behind him. The gesture seemed to cause the stranger a great deal of amusement. The as-yet unknown young man let out a loud laugh and looked behind him at a sandy-blond haired teenager that looked about their age.

"Hey, Blake, he does the snobby brow-thing even better than you."

The individual in question, the sandy-blond, smirked at the Slytherin as though he were a snake himself. Draco smirked back in similar, though perhaps cockier, fashion, locking eyes with the semi-blond as a third stranger made his way into the locker room.

"Bloody hell, there's two of 'em," he exclaimed upon catching sight of the two, drawing the others' attention to him.

The ice-blond broke eye contact and glanced over, brow once more rising in question as he watched the three.

"They do have a certain quality in common, don't they?" the brunette asked, gesturing between blonds.

"Yeah," the third one stated, running a hand absently over what little there was of his hair. "They both look like arrogant snobs."

Rather than appear offended by the description, the young wizard gave an elegant shrug in agreement and leaned back against his locker. The action brought another round of laughter from the brunette. The other two soon joined in, eventually pulling an amused smirk from their silent audience. Noticing his reaction, the three teenagers exchanged looks for a moment before the brunette took a step forward and held out his hand.

"I'm Aaron," he stated as he shook Draco's hand, then waved with friendly dismal at the two standing behind him. "The blond's Blake, and the other one's Karen."

The last introduction earned Aaron a glare from his friend with the severe crew cut. "It's Carren, Car-ren. Arse." The dark-haired teen rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"I'm Draco," he said before taking Blake's hand.

"Nice ta meet cha, Draco," Aaron responded. He waited a beat for Carren to shake his hand, then gestured at the standard white uniform that the blond had been about to change out of when they had come in. "How long ya been doin' Tae Kwon Do?"

"Little over a month is all, I was doing Aikido for about as long before I started here."

"A month? Damn, you must learn quick."

Draco smirked at the compliment, but didn't bother to respond. "What about you?"

"Oh, we've been taking different classes on and off since we were kids. We just usually stick with kickboxing and karate, so we haven't been here in a while. Thought we'd come by and check it out, see if we wanted to give it another go."

"Made a decision yet?"

Aaron shrugged, exchanged a look with the others. "We're considering it. What do you think of it? Is it worth it?"

Draco thought back to the first question the other teen had asked him when he'd come in to change. "It's fun." He thought about how it felt to face off with an opponent, exchange blows, come out on top. "A bit of a rush if you're fighting someone good enough."

"Like getting a rush, then?"

He shrugged, not quite knowing exactly where the other teen was headed. "Yeah."

The three Muggles flashed each other rather devious grins. "In that case, I think we're all going to get along just fine."

The two dark-haired teens nodded in agreement, then grinned even wider as Blake went on. "But if you want a real rush, we've got just the thing."

"Really?" His natural suspicion crept into his voice as he watched them smirk at each other again. "And what would that be?"

"Well, you ever been rock climbing?" asked Aaron.

"Or sky diving?" questioned Blake.

Draco shook his head, turned to face Carren as he spoke. "What about base jumping?"

"No, can't say that I have. Why?"

"Want to get a real rush?"

Grey eyes narrowed as they swept over the three faces, noting the almost devious expressions, and the all out excitement gleaming from their eyes. The blond thought about all the things they'd mentioned, tried to remember if he'd ever read or seen anything about any of them. Then a picture burst to life in his mind, an image of someone leaping from a plane and rushing towards the earth, falling faster and faster until the person pulled their parachute. "Hell yeah."

The three others grinned ever wider. "Then you've come to the right people."

Draco grinned back, having the suspicion that Blake was spot on with that assessment. He knew for a fact that he was right fifteen minutes later when he climbed in the back of Aaron's brand new sports car and listened to the three rich, snobby adrenaline junkies discuss their next adventure. Yes, he'd ran into just exactly the right people: his kind of people.

End Chapter Five

Chapter Six:

Ginny Weasley could hardly contain the full, satisfied feeling in her stomach, a feeling so intense that she hadn't even been able to eat more than a few bites of the rather solemn but delicious Welcome Back Feast that had just completed. She was now back at Hogwarts, tucked away where her mother thought she would be kept safe from all the war preparations. She wondered, not for the first time, when and how Moody was going to talk to her mum about what she would really be doing when she wasn't in class.

The former Auror had assured Dumbledore that he would handle that, however, so she tried not to worry about it overmuch. She had plenty of other topics to keep her mind busy, like the tid-bit of information she and the former Headmaster had come across just the day before.

Clio was the Greek muse of history. The symbol attributed to Clio was the scroll. She'd seen a scroll on the sign above the doors of the mystery building. There was a museum just outside Wizarding London called the Cliopendium Of Wizarding History. It had become somewhat overshadowed when Hestia's Historia had been built about five years before, but it had been the largest collection of precious metal artifacts in England when Tom Riddle had been going to Hogwarts. The Clio, as it was often called, had, the summer after Riddle had graduated, housed a special display called 'Yesterday's Everyday Wizardry,' the title that she had seen on the banner in her second-hand memory.

Which meant that they had found the museum that even now, housed Helga Hufflepuff's cup, disguised and tainted as it was by the piece of his so-called soul that the Dark Lord had hidden inside of it all those years before. And tomorrow she would be meeting with Moody and Dumbledore back at Grimmauld Place to put together a plan of action for getting a hold of the Horcrux. And as soon as everything was in order, she would be going on the mission to steal the cup from the museum and bring it back to Headquarters, where they could work on destroying it once and for all.

Theories and speculations swirled around and around within her head, blurring her mind as she fell to sleep, twisting through her dreams and shadowing her waking thoughts the next morning and through the day. It was difficult for her to concentrate on her classes, hard for her to wade through it all even long enough for the youngest Weasley to take more than passing notice of her ex-boyfriend when he took his dinner with the staff and students that night. She couldn’t spare an ounce of concentration for anything however, not even Harry. She was having a hard enough time containing her doubts, fears, and the small amount of excitement.

The thoughts and emotions were still churning inside her when she slipped out of the school and Apparated into an alleyway near Number Twelve. They were still there as she, Moody, and Dumbledore worked out a plan. They were still there as she made her way through the rest of week, waiting for Saturday, waiting for the Clio to close and their plan to get underway.

The time crept by slowly, but eventually it was time, and for all the emotions, all the nerves, all the brain-clouding thoughts, Ginny was ready. They were relying on her and she was not going to let anyone down. Not Moody, who wasn't all that sure she could handle the responsibility. Not Dumbledore who was so outwardly sure that she could. Not herself, who needed so badly to put the taunting memories to use against the very thing that made them. She was ready. She had to be.

She had to put the doubts and fears aside as she stood with Moody just outside the school grounds. She had to do this, do it well, do it right. With one last, deep breath, she squared her shoulders and met the single piercing eye that was pinned on her.

"You ready, girl?"

Ginny didn't take away from the time or energy that she needed to maintain the ruthless hold she'd wrangled on her emotions, instead, she simply raised her wand, first at her accomplice, then at herself, and said the words that she had heard so many times in her dreams, in her memories of that first year. She'd heard Ron ask Hermione once how the older girl thought little Ginny Weasley had managed to sneak through the school so many nights, and do the Dark Lord's bidding. She'd wondered herself for a while. Then the dreams had started, the memories resurfaced, and she'd known.

"Pedes Silentium. Dissimulo."

The Silent Steps spell left little more than an odd muffled feeling in her ears as she shifted her feet, but in the instant it took the Concealing Charm to take hold, she felt the air around her shift, blur. She looked hard, carefully, at the space she knew Moody filled, but couldn't quite manage to make him out, and knew Tom's knowledge was once more standing her in good stead, for all the bad he had left her to deal with. The redhead didn't allow herself to think about that too much, simply Apparated, and as soon as she had regained her balance outside the Clio, she started towards the door, trusting that the ex-Auror was right behind her, though she could neither see nor hear him.

Her nerves were jangling, thrumming beneath the surface of her skin when she aimed her wand at the large double doors she had seen for the first time in the remnant of memory that had never belonged in her head.

"Inflecto," she whispered into the quiet, waiting for the heavy wards to flex under the Warping Spell, waiting for them to change just enough under her influence to allow her, and she assumed her accomplice, to slip through with a gentle push and a quiet pop. The residue of magic that the wards left on her skin made her want to scratch at every inch of her body, but she resisted the urge and continued forward.

With the wards bypassed, a simple Alohomora derivative gained the two entrance to the large, impressive building. Several heart pounding minutes saw her making her way through the long hallways, trusting that the infamous 'mad' eye was allowing her accomplice to follow her. What was most likely only a few minutes after she had left Hogwarts, and felt like a few hours, was all it took for her to recognize one particular hall, one particular shelf, one particular, innocent looking cup.

Another pair of Warping and Unlocking Charms later, she was lifting the golden artifact from its place and slipping it into the specially shielded moke-skin bag that the former Headmaster had acquired for her. She watched the magical bag swallow the cup, watched it contract around its contents and seemingly melt into the belt it was hanging on. No one could see, let alone get a hold of the cup now, even if they somehow managed to see her. And no one that did would get her, she reminded herself with a deep breath. Moody was right there, somewhere, and he was protecting her. That was the plan. Everything was going according to plan.

Everything was running smoothly, including the Convincing Charm she placed on the shelf with a quiet Credo to make anyone who might look, believe that everything was just as it should be, that nothing was missing. But something was missing, and it would stay missing, she told herself as she reset the locks and wards on the shelf and headed back the way she'd come. The cup was going to make it back to Grimmauld, and it would be destroyed, she insisted silently as she pushed her way back through the wards and replaced everything with a swish and flick, and another memory.

A weight began to lift from her chest, leaving her to breathe almost normally as she Apparated to the alley outside Headquarters. The answering pop she heard behind her was a reassuring one, and she was able to remove the charms on herself without her wand shaking in her hand and her fellow thief did the same. It had worked, she thought with a smile, surprised to find her expression echoed on Moody's face, albeit in a rather disconcerting manner.

"Let's get that inside, shall we, Miss Weasley?"

It took a moment for her to process it, but as she followed the paranoid and suspicious wizard into Number Twelve, it occurred to her that he had not called her girl, but instead used her name, for the first time since she had met the real him.

Another smile twisted her lips as they made their way to his rooms and recounted the night's events to the wizard waiting for them there. The former professor was well pleased with how things had gone, and a feeling of satisfaction hung between the three, heavy and pleasant. Unfortunately, that feeling had evaporated by the time the three of them saw one another again several weeks later.

"It does not appear to be working," Dumbledore stated with an infuriatingly pleasant tone.

Moody scowled; swished and flicked yet again. "Incendio."

Ginny sighed, ran a hand through her long red hair in frustration. "But all the research, everything we've found, indicates that the only way to destroy a heavily bespelled item of metal is to burn it."

"It would seem we may have misinterpreted some detail," the ex-Headmaster stated calmly.

"Extermino," the ex-Auror muttered irritably.

"I don't think so, I read it all five times." Ginny sighed yet again. "I worked and reworked the Arithmancy. You checked it over yourself, Professor, we were right. The metal itself has to be broken down, the form of the item unmade in order to open the shielding to make it possible for us to break the wards and destroy the Horcrux without our spells rebounding onto us."

"Yes, I still believe that to be true, I also believe it to be where I went wrong in my destruction of the ring. But no spell or charm to burn or alight, that I am aware of seems to work, and we have tried most of them at least twice."

Ginny shook her head, rubbed her tired eyes before opening them and staring resolutely at the small cup. She couldn't think of a single thing that could be altered in their interpretation. The metal... she blinked as her thoughts ground to a halt. "Metal burns, like wood, but it doesn't turn to ash, it turns to liquid. It boils; it melts."

Brown met sparkling blue. "Quite right my dear, it does, doesn't it?"

Alastor Moody let out a rough, nearly acidic laugh. "Melts. Well, bloody hell, that was obvious. Decoquo."

The cup glowed for a moment, far brighter than it had on any of their previous attempts. Then it began to bubble and drip until it was a puddle of liquid gold with a visible film of blue magical residue above it. That film, however, was cracked. Dumbledore aimed his wand directly at the crack and intoned the Disarming Spell he had created himself years before, when Grindelwald had lived.

The crack grew, spread, splintered, until the blue film crumbled and disappeared, leaving a dark smudge in the middle of the golden pool. No one spoke for a moment. Then the aged wizard, one of the only two Voldemort truly feared, cast a single spell and destroyed another little piece of the Dark Lord's soul.

End Chapter Six

Chapter Seven:

Ginny tossed and turned fitfully as the facts and conjectures tumbled through her exhausted mind. She should be sleeping, she knew; rehashing it all would get her nowhere, yet she couldn't help but do just that, as she lay in the silent room that was hers whenever she stayed at Headquarters. Well, hers and Hermione's, but the older girl was off somewhere with Ron and Harry, and therefore would be no help in diverting the redhead's thoughts, even if she had wanted her to be. So they strayed once more to what had happened and been learned. And what hadn't.

Tom Riddle's diary. Marvolo's ring. They had been destroyed before she'd even become aware of the existence of the Horcruxes, bringing the number that needed to be destroyed before Harry could take on Voldemort himself down to four. Since she had begun helping Moody and Dumbledore, the number had been further reduced by two. She had seen the demise of Hufflepuff's cup herself months before, and could remember with sickening clarity learning of the locket's destruction. She hadn't been told, of course, as the only sign as to the fate of Slytherin's necklace was the note that Harry and the disguised Snape had found that fateful night. But she remembered the bitter satisfaction that had been in his pain-filled eyes as the young wizard had lain at her feet, blood running from his nose and mouth.

"You're too late. I destroyed it."

He'd been trembling from the after-effects of the Cruciatus she'd cast, but his pain was not enough, not enough to pay for his words, his traitorous actions. Even the repeated casting of Crucio that followed had not been payment enough. The killing curse that she'd eventually cast on a whimpering Regulus Adalfo Black's huddling, pain-wracked form had still left her simmering with rage.

She. Her. He. Him. The words bounced around inside her skull with enough force and speed to leave her head echoing with pain. It was all well and good to know that the images and emotions that drifted into her conscious thoughts had originally belonged to the Dark Lord and not her. It was one thing for the former Headmaster to tell her that she merely housed the memories and that doing so was no reflection whatsoever on her as a person. It was not the least bit helpful to know intellectually that she had not done or thought any of the things that she remembered, especially in the quiet solitude of her mind.

She ran a pale and barely steady hand over her face before opening glazed brown eyes to stare at the cracked ceiling above her. "I didn't do it."

The words hung hot and desperate in the stuffy air of the room, but the sound of them brought the declaration to life in a way her silent denials could not do. "I didn't hurt him. I didn't kill him."

There was no one to agree with her statement. Not even Crookshanks, the only other occupant of the room, deigned to so much as look over at the obnoxious human who had dared disturb his sleep, though he did thump his tail a few times before rolling over. The lack of response was neither disheartening, nor comforting. Dumbledore had made a point to remind her that she had had nothing to do with the things that she could now remember. She knew the truth, but it was little aid when she could still see the wand being raised in a hand that her memory told her was her own. Truth was a poor defense when she could hear the curses being cast, could still see his body slump at feet that weren't hers. Truth could not make her forget the feel of the rage and the hatred and the foul pleasure that had seemed to fill her in that moment.

The sensations rushed back on her and the youngest Weasley sprung from her bed and began to pace furiously as though enough restless circuits of the room would chase the feelings and recollections back into the recesses from which they had sprung a few weeks before.

She'd been walking to her History of Magic class at the time, but had been lucky enough that most everyone had already left for their next class by the time she had made it out of the classroom. She'd been lucky that no one had been around to notice her stumble as the memory slammed into her, or to see her lean against the wall for support as the dizziness and nausea left her unable to walk for several minutes afterward. She'd even been lucky enough that by the time she had wrenched herself back into the present, she'd been able to make her way undisturbed, to the hospital wing, where the pallor of her complexion and the trembling in her limbs, had made her bid for a day's rest all the more convincing. The fact that the note from Pomfrey had allowed her to withdraw to her rooms, and so slip away to Grimmauld Place unnoticed, had been a further bit of luck.

The recovered memory had left her feeling too ill however, to enjoy that luck, or the fact that she had been able to answer a lingering and vital question, and in turn, whittle the list of remaining Horcruxes down to two. By the time she had felt steady enough to appreciate the progress beyond the methods used to gain it, a sense of enjoyment was far from her reach. In fact, a rather hollow sensation of stagnation had grown to fill her instead.

The recollection of Regulus' betrayal of the Dark Lord and his subsequent murder by her- his hand had been the only memory she had regained in the months since the visions that had led them to the museum. For all the help she had been able to give Moody and Dumbledore through Tom's memories, the youngest Weasley was starting to wonder if her usefulness was reaching its end. The memories left in her mind from the diary were not infinite. There was no telling how much more information she could give to the Order, if there was anything more at all.

A muted sound of frustration tore itself from her as she turned sharply on her heel for the twenty-eighth time in the last minute and a half. Ginny felt the walls begin to close in on her as the possibilities assailed her, hastening her steps until she had reached the door and not slowing them as she pulled it open and made her way down the empty corridor.

The diary could have conceivably contained memories regarding all the Horcruxes, if indeed the part of him that had resided in it had remained connected to the Dark Lord until its destruction. There was no real way to tell, however, if that was the case. They had seen no indication that Voldemort was aware of his Horcruxes, no sign that he retained enough of a tangible connection to them to feel it when they were destroyed.

There was no proof that the connection between the soul parts had not been frozen when they were broken up. Obviously, the mere fact that parts of his soul still existed was enough to keep him alive, after a fashion; but whether or not there was anything more than their origin between the parts, was simply conjecture. Even if there was nothing more, if the diary had been the last of his Horcruxes to be made, as might be indicated by the casual way it was left in Lucius Malfoy's care, it could still have contained information on all the other portions of the Dark Lord's soul that remained.

Either way, there was a possibility that the diary had at one time housed all the information they needed, but even if that was the case, there was still no way to tell if all of what had been inside its pages had been left inside her. Certainly, it would be logical to assume that in its destruction, parts of it had been lost. But how many parts? And how many of the remaining parts had been left in the recesses of her mind? Ginny wasn't sure, but with each week that passed without her remembering anything more, she became more and more afraid that there was nothing left for her to remember, nothing left for her to give to the wizards that seemed so sure she was the key to finding, taking, and destroying the parts of Voldemort's soul.

The young witch let out a heavy sigh, desperately wanting to return to her bed and sleep without such fears and questions plaguing her. It was a futile hope, however, and she well knew it. She had been able to think of little else for the last month or more, which had been bad enough while she was in school and meeting with Moody and Dumbledore once a week or so to discuss any progress, or lack thereof. It had been bad enough when she only had her free time to spend researching and contemplating. It had been bad enough when the rest of her time was fairly well engaged with classes and homework.

Now, however, as her Christmas holiday stretched before her, empty of distractions, it was even worse. She'd already finished all the schoolwork she'd been assigned in an attempt to occupy her thoughts, and now she was left with nothing else to do other than obsess over why she hadn't remembered anything else useful, and whether or not she ever would.

Ginny ran a hand through her long red hair and swallowed another sigh as she continued to pace through the dark halls of Number Twelve. What was she going to do for the next week and a half? She'd brought all the books she'd been allowed to take out of Hogwarts, but they were no more promising than any of the others that she had read the past few months, both at school, and with the former Headmaster. And it was beginning to try her patience to look through tome after tome without the slightest progress being made. It wasn't even as if she were searching for anything specific, but more that she was simply reading everything she could in an effort to find something that might tell her what to look for.

It was beyond frustrating. She felt as if she were simply running in place, searching and searching, and still finding nothing. No matter how hard she looked, or how much she read, nothing made any sense. She was tired of waiting for things to fall into place, but there wasn't really anything else that she could do, other than hope that something would trigger a memory. The only problem was, she had no idea what memory she was trying to trigger. She had no clue what she needed to remember, because she hadn't known it in the first place.

Still, she tried everything she could think of, tried reading anything that stood out to her, and many things that didn't. She tried thinking really hard about Voldemort, and Horcruxes, and then she tried not thinking about them at all. Nothing seemed to work, and the youngest Weasley had about reached her limit.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, turning on her heel once more as she reached the end of the hall. She cursed again a moment later as the sound of voices suddenly broke the silence, the three individuals she'd hoped to avoid apparently moving towards her.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see her brother and the others, she still considered them her friends, she just felt awkward around them since she had started working on the search for the Horcruxes. She knew they wanted to be working with Moody as she was, knew they all felt left out and ignored. She knew they were growing ever more restless and resentful at being holed up in the school and forced to study and prepare with the professors and Aurors that Moody had arranged to meet them. And she knew that if any of them had the slightest idea of what she was doing, that they would be less than thrilled.

Despite knowing that, however, she wanted to tell them. She wanted to discuss the dreams and memories with her big brother, she wanted to talk through the few clues she'd accumulated with Hermione, she wanted to... Well, to be honest, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do as far as Harry was concerned. She still had feelings for him, she knew; it had only been a little more than six months since he'd broken up with her, and as she'd carried a torch for him for five years before they had gotten together, she was hard pressed to just turn off what she felt. But in those six months she'd found a distance from him, a space from which she could view him more objectively than she ever had before.

Maybe it was some immature and spiteful part of her that resented being tossed away when things got tough, a sliver of annoyance at his overly noble and somewhat selfish attitude. Ginny shook her head. For all that she might have some justification in feeling that way, she just didn't, not really. Well, maybe a smidgen, but only when she was feeling especially frustrated or mope-y about something else, and even then it wasn't really enough to explain her attitude towards her ex-boyfriend. Perhaps it was simply a matter of getting what she'd always thought she'd wanted and realizing it wasn't really what she'd thought it would be. Perhaps it was just that she'd grown up a little more over the last few months, and that working with Moody and Dumbledore, working against the Dark Lord, had given her a new perspective on things.

She hadn't considered her feelings for Harry to be hero-worship, even when they had been, but she had to admit that a small part of her had been more attracted to the boy she'd seen and heard about from Ron than the boy she'd actually known. After all, even when she'd tried to move on and had been able to act like a real person around him, even when she'd hung out with him and Hermione and Ron, she hadn't truly been part of the group. No one else could truly be part of that group, the three of them were simply too good of friends for a fourth to rival them, and she didn't begrudge them that. She just knew that that made it nearly impossible for her to ever really fit in. If she hadn't been Ron's little sister, and Harry hadn't gone so long seeing her as a semi-sister of his own, it would have been easier. But then again, maybe not.

All she knew was that she didn’t feel comfortable around him any more, at least not as comfortable as one should feel around a potential boyfriend. Or even an ex-boyfriend. And it wasn't just because she felt guilty for keeping things from him and Ron and Hermione, though she did. It was more that whenever she was around him she expected certain things from herself, certain reactions and feelings that had begun to desert her. It was hard to face what she sometimes saw as a failure, and even harder to admit that she didn't always regret being unable to live up to what she, and most everyone else, expected of her when it came to Harry Potter.

The fact that she was keeping her second-hand memories secret from the older boy and his friends only made it worse. And that was without even factoring in what she was not telling them about her work with Moody. Not to mention their former Headmaster. Dumbledore. Now that was certainly something that made her more than a little uncomfortable and more than a lot guilty whenever she was faced with the Trio. She'd grieved with them all when the aged wizard had first 'died' and had watched them continue to grieve after she had learned that there was no true reason to do so.

She'd nearly slipped when they had been escorted back to the Burrow for the wedding, nearly told them that the bearded man was still alive. The redhead had barely stopped herself in time, and had from then on endeavored to keep her distance as Moody's warning had rung in her ears.

"As much as those kids have proved themselves to our side, we can't forget that they could betray us, even without meaning to. Remember, girl, not a one of them can keep a secret from another of them, and Harry never finished his Occlumency lessons. Voldemort still has access to his head if he really wants it."

It was logical, of course, that none of them know the truth. It prevented the Dark Lord from finding it out through them, and at the same time, reinforced the useful lie should Voldemort actually use his link to Harry to 'check in' on the opposing side. Yet it still felt like she herself was betraying her friends and family without meaning to, simply by keeping quiet and letting them hurt and fear when they didn't need to.

That feeling of betrayal left her more than slightly relieved when the voices died away, indicating that they had perhaps turned down another hall and were currently moving away from her. The relief was so great, in fact, that she didn't notice that only two of the voices had reached her ears, and that the third had in fact, been missing entirely. If she had, she would certainly have thought better of turning into the library a minute later, as that was exactly the place that she was most likely to find Hermione Granger. Which is exactly what she did.

The bushy-haired witch was seated at the small antique desk on the far side of the room when the youngest Weasley entered it, and even before the image fully registered, the redhead's nerves began to fray. Those nerves, however, were spared further torment, at least on that score, as all thoughts of her brother's best friend fled her mind an instant later.

All it took was an instant for the sensations to crash against her inner barriers as the memory burst forth. It was pure luck and raw will that kept Hermione from realizing she had been there at all as Ginny silently fled the room. She cast a quick succession of spells to keep her undetected as she raced to the rooms that held the current and former heads of the Order of the Phoenix, though the waves of nausea and pulses of skull-numbing pain prevented her from being consciously aware of doing so.

All Ginny Weasley was aware of as she slipped into the small sitting room and slumped onto Alastor Moody's couch in front of a worried Albus Dumbledore, was the image she had seen superimposed on the sight of Hermione hunched over the old desk. All she could think of was what she had remembered: the identity of the fifth Horcrux.

End Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight:

"You can't be bloody serious!" Mad Eye Moody cursed with enthusiasm, shaking his head in disbelief. "All this time we were looking for something of Rowena's and we never thought to look for a desk?"

Dumbledore sat calmly in his chair, waiting for his friend to work out some of his disbelief and frustration.

"A bloody desk. Ravenclaw. For Merlin's sake, how is it we never thought of a desk? The woman probably lived at the thing."

"There was no indication in any of our sources that the desk she used here was still in existence or even anything special. We looked for all her most prized possessions of which we were aware, including her best spell books and her favorite quill. We even tracked down her wedding robes. We did all we could have known to do given our available information, Alastor. You have no reason to feel as though any of us missed something. There has never been any mention by anyone anywhere of Rowena Ravenclaw's desk that I am aware of."

The former Auror scowled at the elder wizard's accurate logic. "No, there hasn't been," he admitted, "which only means that it will be that much harder for us to find."

Albus smiled somewhat indulgently at the pessimistic words. "And that much less likely that Tom would suspect us of ever finding out about it. Which could mean that he may have taken less care in concealing it."

Moody let out a low grunt in response, taking little comfort in the supposition.

For his part, Dumbledore seemed undiscouraged by the task that awaited them now that they had finally learned the identity of the fifth Horcrux. The elderly wizard had in fact, been in so jolly a mood since the announcement that Ginny nearly recognized him as the twinkling-eyed Headmaster she had met six years before. It was heartening to see some semblance of that man, particularly as she had been the one to deliver the news that had cheered him so greatly.

At the same time, however, she felt as though she had somehow raised his hopes falsely. Remembering Ravenclaw's desk was more a fluke than anything else, in her mind. The memory itself had been a mere flash of insight, as opposed to the fuller recollections she had gotten in regards to the cup and necklace. There had been no visions, no remnants of thought or emotion; simply the knowledge of Rowena's old desk housing a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul. It made the young witch even more uncertain of her usefulness than she had been before, despite the fact that she had indeed remembered the desk in the first place.

Neither wizard noticed the redhead's silence, or any indication of the steadily more melancholy thoughts, instead continuing their discussion as to the likelihood of locating the desk and how exactly to go about doing so.

"Tom has always been over confidant, and more self indulging than was good for him, even as a boy. He would have thought as much about the satisfaction that he could garner from the hiding place as he would the location's security. For all that his choices have proved effective in their purpose, the sentimentality with which they were chosen has been key in discovering them. I am sure that the same will hold true in this case."

Moody made a noise in that back of his throat that neatly summed up his opinion as to the elder wizard's thoughts. "Voldemort is no soft hearted ninny who will be undone by his emotion, Albus. He would have thought strategically in finding somewhere to hide the desk."

"Of course, Alastor," he conceded patiently, "Tom was always an intelligent boy, but all the places we have found were chosen with regard to their to meaning to him as well as the ease and effectiveness with which they could be concealed. The cave was chosen more for its meaning then for its isolation."

The former Auror cut him off sharply. "And yet it cannot be discounted that the cave's isolation played a large part in its selection as a hiding place. He wouldn't have gone to the trouble of splitting his soul into pieces only to leave himself no way to ensure that at least some of those pieces remained safe."

"If by safe you mean somewhere it will be unseen or untouched, then I believe you are mistaken."

"You may believe whatever the hell you want, Riddle may be a right evil bastard but he's a cunning one. Surely he would have placed more importance on safety then he would have on-"

Ginny shook her head at Moody's words. It may seem more logical to Moody for Tom to have relied less on his emotions, but logic was not necessarily something he was known for. Having a large and perhaps unstable ego however, was something he had always been known for. And that very same ego, the redhead thought, would not have been adequately stroked by secreting away any more of his Horcruxes than he had felt absolutely necessary, despite Moody's thoughts on the subject. Unless, of course, those Horcruxes had been placed somewhere that they could receive the proper respect.

"-his ego." The almost absently muttered words fell from the witch's lips without her even being aware of it, but her voice brought the wizards' debate to a sudden halt.

It was the first time she had spoken since she had arrived, and Dumbledore and Moody seemed almost surprised by her presence, as though they had forgotten she was even there. The surprise wore off fairly quickly however, and they turned as one to face her, their eyes narrowing as they thought over what they had said and inserted her comment in its proper place. Moody opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore silenced him with the raise of a hand as he continued to stare intently at the redhead.

"Have you remembered something, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny shook her head, her voice somewhat hesitant as she answered, "No but, I think, I mean I know. . ."

She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she struggled to find the words to explain how she knew that Moody was on the wrong track. "In the other memories about the Horcruxes, I- he felt so smug, so excited by the fact that they would be seen, adored, honored, in one way or another. The cup was seen by droves of witches and wizards before the Clio became less known, and the diary was watched over by Lucius Malfoy, who held a sick idolization of the Dark Lord. There's a sense of satisfaction that the Horcruxes are safe, that he outsmarted everyone, but the haughty smugness, the stroking of his own ego is much stronger."

The grizzled wizard narrowed his good eye at her. "The necklace and ring were hidden out of the way, girl, no one saw them. How could that have stroked his ego, eh?"

Ginny swallowed under the skeptical gaze, though the time she had spent working with the intimidating former Auror helped to dull the full edge of his glare. "I don't know how he felt about where he left them, I don't remember hiding them like I do the others. But the passing thoughts I have had on them have always felt... hollow somehow. I thought that was because I don't have the actual memories, but-"

Dumbledore cast her an encouraging look when she faltered, prodding her along gently. "But what, Miss Weasley?"

"Well, I think the hollow feeling isn't what I'm missing, but what he was missing when he thought about hiding them."

"The reverence he felt should have been directed at them, you mean?"

The redhead nodded hesitantly at her former Headmaster's words. She wilted a little further under Moody's continued scrutiny, as he made a noncommittal sound in response to her agreement. Ginny was insecure enough in her conjecture without the memory to back it up that she almost didn't elaborate further, but being a Gryffindor lent her the courage to continue.

"The cave and the shack, they were from his past, and while being a descendant of Slytherin was something he would have been proud of, the state his mother had been reduced to would not have been something he'd want people to see. And the reminder of his time in the Muggle orphanage that stayed in the cave would have been equally as distasteful to bring attention to."

Ginny took a breath, glancing up at her audience in an attempt to gauge their reaction. Dumbledore appeared to be thinking quite hard on her words, and while Moody didn't seem terribly impressed with her reasoning, he didn't look like he was ready to dismiss it off hand. Feeling slightly more sure that she was making some sense out of her impressions of the dark remnants floating about in her head, the youngest Weasley pushed forward with a little more strength to her voice.

"The diary stood for the new start he was making of himself at Hogwarts, a connection to Slytherin that he would actually want people to see. The cup showed how he was making a spot for himself in Wizarding history. Those were things he wanted seen, wanted fawned over, so he made sure they would be, and the satisfaction he got from doing so, coupled with the lack of satisfaction he found in simply secreting away the ring and necklace would probably have encouraged him to place the other Horcruxes somewhere that they could be given what he thought would have been the proper attention and respect."

The long white beard swayed slightly as its owner nodded thoughtfully and scratched his chin with his good hand. The magical eye slowed in its whirling, as though looking into the head that housed it in order to get some glimpse of the spinning thoughts within.

"There is a certain strategic logic to hiding in plain sight," the gruff voice conceded.

"Quite right, Alastor," the elder wizard agreed. "But in whose sight would Tom have left Rowena's desk?"

They looked over at the young witch expectantly, hoping that she might have some further insight as to the desk's location. Ginny shook her head silently, biting her lip as they turned back to one another and began debating the remaining possibilities, but her inability to add to the discussion didn't foster the helpless frustration that it had only minutes before. For all that she had not remembered anything, let alone the crucial detail needed to pinpoint the desk, she had still contributed to the effort, had still helped steer the search in the right direction simply by applying what she had already learned.

The feat left her with the feeling that perhaps she could still be useful after all, and made her all the more determined to be exactly that. And in an effort to do so, the youngest Weasley bent her mind to the task, turning over every bit of thought, emotion, and memory that she retained from her first year, looking for anything that she might be able to glean from them as to Tom's possible choice of a hiding place for Ravenclaw's desk.

"Who the bloody hell else would he trust with a piece of his soul? Who else would give the damn thing the admiration he wants?" Moody demanded.

Albus shook his head slightly, his eyes staring somewhat sightlessly as he ran through the options in his head. "Full fledge Death Eaters are not the only witches and wizards that respect the Dark Lord, Alastor. There may well be many who admire his ideology and actions who have not pledged themselves to him."

"That may be true, but damn it, if we start with all of them it will take us forever to narrow down the list."

"And if we eliminate too many to start with we may look over the correct individual entirely."

The former Auror let out a sound of frustration, causing his magical eye to swivel almost maniacally in his head. Dumbledore remained outwardly calm, though his gaze showed the slightest glimmer of growing frustration. Whether he would have voiced such an emotion would remain unknown, however, as their words broke through the redhead's thoughts and brought her once more into the debate.

"Why does it have to be an individual who admires the Dark Lord specifically?"

"And what exactly-"

The elder wizard cut off the outburst before Moody could really get started, instead motioning silently for her to continue.

"I mean, the cup wasn't admired because it was the Horcrux, but because it was supposedly part of the museum's ancient precious metals collection. Couldn't Voldemort have just as easily have left the desk itself unaltered and left it to be revered simply as Rowena Ravenclaw's writing desk?"

The defensive ire that had overtaken Mad Eye Moody's expression when the young witch had appeared to be questioning him again began to drain from his face as he started to think through what had been said. Similarly, the supposedly deceased wizard looked to be in deep contemplation, his aged but sharp mind turning her supposition over and over in an attempt to work out exactly how likely it could be.

Both wizards seemed to come to a decision a few moments later as they turned to one another and exchanged the type of silent communication only possible after working so closely with one another over the past months.

"Those who would collect Founders' artifacts would be notably more trustworthy versus the type of individuals who would wish to possess something of Tom's."

"But how many of 'em are there?"

"Quite a significant number, I am afraid."

"But who," Ginny interjected quietly as the wizards' optimism began to flag, "would place the most importance on Ravenclaw's stuff?"

Dumbledore grew thoughtful, and Moody tried to remember all that he had heard and read in regards to the Founders over the course of their research into the possible Horcruxes.

"Rowena doesn't have any family still living," the gruff voice stated.

"Indeed she does not. Tom himself is the only surviving heir to any of the Four. Yet I seem to recall another member of the original faculty who has a surviving descendant, the History of Magic professor I believe. Yes, yes, an ancestor of our own Professor Binns; Professor Ethelward was his name."

The former Auror's good eye narrowed. "Alfred Ethelward. He has himself quite an estate in Fittleborough, eh?"

"Quite right. And he is known to fancy himself a historian, particularly in regards to the Founding Four. A rather ideal candidate I'd say, would you not, Alastor?"

The wizard gave a stiff nod and a gruff sound of agreement when the almost sparkling blue gaze landed on him before moving on to the third occupant of the room.

"And you, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny paused, thinking furiously, saying the name over and over in her head, trying to remember anything that might have been left behind from the diary that could have something to do with the name Ethelward.

"I just don't remember." The words were spoken in a frustrated tone. "Nothing sounds particularly familiar, but it does make a lot of sense."

"Yes," he said with a nod that caused his white beard to sway, "a fair bit too much sense to ignore."

Moody grunted. "Not to be ignored doesn't mean not to be investigated, Albus."

"But of course, Alastor. Unfortunately any investigation that is possible from here has already been done. Not a tome or resource within our reach has been left unused these last months; leaving us but one true option." Blue eyes, holding some glimmer of their old sparkle, landed on the youngest member of their group.

"Fancy a trip to Fittleborough, Miss Weasley?"

End Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine:

Ginny Weasley swallowed hard past the nerves building within her. They simmered in her gut like a toxic potion, bubbled up into her throat, lodging there, making it hard to breathe evenly as she placed the specially, secretly, spelled Portkey back into the small pocket in her robe. A few days before, when Dumbledore had asked her if she'd like to go to the Ethelward estate to investigate whether or not it housed the fifth Horcrux, she'd readily answered in the affirmative. But now, as she stood in the secluded glade just outside the border of Fittleborough, she felt a twinge of regret at her decision.

Naturally, she had assumed that her excursion to the estate would be like her trip to the Clio, at least in that she would be accompanied by Moody. Yet here she stood, with no Moody, invisible or otherwise, anywhere around to provide support or backup. Despite the spells and tricks that she had learned from the diary, despite all the knowledge that Tom had given her so that she could successfully traipse around the school creating havoc and releasing the basilisk, she was less than confident about her upcoming task.

Even knowing her uncertainty, the former Headmaster had decided that it would be too hard to hide or explain away the absence of both Ginny and Moody either from Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts. As it was, the frequency of the wizard's disappearances during their latest round of research into the Horcrux's identity and location had been in danger of being noticed by the already suspicious and restless Trio. Presently, there was a delicate balance of diversion and distraction keeping the indispensable young wizard and his friends safe and confined until the final confrontation, and Dumbledore did not want to disturb that, and risk anything happening to their only hope of defeating the Dark Lord once and for all. To that end, he had asked Moody to keep Harry and the others occupied while Ginny was sent to Wizarding Wessex.

Objectively, she understood the decision, and knowing the three as well as she did, she was well aware that they had been lucky to be able to keep her brother, Harry, and Hermione out of the fray for as long as they had. Because of that, she knew steps needed to be taken to maintain the Trio's isolation.

They thought that Moody was now the head of the Order, and that if anything were happening, that he would be involved. If he disappeared, even one more time, they may well try to follow him as they had attempted to do the night she had met with him to finalize plans for the trip to the would-be historian's estate. And Harry, Hermione, and Ron finding out what she and Moody had been up to was not something that they needed. If that knowledge spurred the three to venture out on their own search for the remaining Horcruxes, or to discover that Dumbledore was actually still alive, the result could be disastrous.

Certainly the possibility of her brother or his friends being caught or killed, or unwittingly revealing through Harry's scar that Dumbledore hadn't been killed, took precedence over any difficulty she might have in determining if they were right about Ethelward possessing the desk. At least that was what she reminded herself as she pointed her wand at herself.

"Dissimulo. Pedes Silentium."

Even knowing that she was now concealed and that her movement would be inaudible, thanks to the spells Tom had taught her, it took her several seconds and a few deep breaths before the youngest Weasley took her first steps out of the glade and towards the sprawling house she could see a few minutes' jog from her position.

The things she had learned her first year, regardless of how long it had taken her to remember them, added to everything else she had recalled from the foreign memories insider her head, nearly ensured that she could get into and out of the estate without being detected. Still, she had relatively little experience at breaking and entering, and even less at doing it by herself. At least in her first year, Tom had been in control of what she was doing and could have therefore gotten her out of any problem that might have arisen.

Now, she was truly on her own, with only remnants of his knowledge and memories to guide her. That, her vaulted Gryffindor bravery, and of course, her Weasley stubbornness.

Surely with the three behind her she would prove successful, and worthy of the task that the older wizards had entrusted her with. After all, Moody's presence at the museum had proved unnecessary. And her skills and memories, even if they hadn't been hers to start with, had not let her down yet. She was capable of the mission before her. She would complete this assignment, and bring them one step closer to acquiring the fifth Horcrux. She would bring the Order that much closer to destroying the evil bastard that had lured her eleven-year-old self into a fraud of a friendship and proceeded to take over her mind, rob her of the innocent childhood she may have otherwise had, and then left remnants of his soiled mind within her own.

The young witch's expression hardened with her resolve, her stride growing wider and smoother as she approached her target. About a hundred yards from the walls, she halted with a silent nod as she felt the humming of the estate's exterior wards a mere foot in front of her. They weren't basic wards, such as the ones that surrounded the Burrow's boundaries. No, these were rather considerably more complex defensive shields meant to not only keep the property from being noticed by any passing Muggles, but to keep any of those passersby - Muggle or otherwise - out of the property.

The complexity, however, looked to in fact prove more help than hindrance to the estate's current uninvited guest. The layering of spells and wards was complicated to the point of being overdone... dangerously overdone. At least it would be dangerous to the integrity of the defensives if she had anything to say about it. Brown eyes narrowed as she waved her wand over the invisible wall in a careful pattern that left faint symbols drifting temporarily in the air before her. Ginny repeated her motions several times as she made her way along the warding line, examining each set of symbols closely before retreating several feet along her path and coming to a stop with a small smile.

Each layer of spells and wards was worked into the next, layered and entwined so that the combination was stronger than the original pieces. It was a daunting obstacle, yet not impossible to overcome, especially when one was able to find a place where all the layers were not combined as seamlessly as they should have been. The section of wards she was facing at that moment was not terribly unlike the surrounding sections, but if the proper spells were applied, the incongruity of the merging wards was apparent. And being thus exposed, it left the youngest Weasley the opening she needed.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny got to work. Keeping the small kink in sight, she cautiously worked her way between the magical fibers, enlarging the gap a little bit more with each pass of her wand until the hole in the mesh could be cut open enough for her to slip through without setting off the alarms.

"Patefacio," the redhead stated with a growing smile. The sight of the opening widening for her passage sent a thrill of accomplishment, and a rush of confidence through the witch and she quickly stepped onto the warded property and with an absent "restituo," she left her first triumph behind her and headed silently towards the manor itself.

The jog to the main building was long enough to leave the sixth-year slightly out of breath by the time she reached the shadow of the large stone walls, but not so long that she had forgotten her previous victory with the wards and grown nervous. Still, she forced herself to stop an arm's length from the wall and examine it in the same way as she had the wards.

What she found took a moment's longer translation than it had on the grounds. The second set of wards were not more exterior wards, nor were they truly interior ones. Instead, the magical barrier was worked into the building itself, designed to detect any aberration in the walls such as a person trying to walk over the threshold, or attempting to breach the walls. No spell or charm she knew of would bypass the shield, as it was codependent on the integrity of the walls themselves. There was one spell, however, that might blind the ward's detectors to her presence, or at least fool them into thinking that she was supposed to be there.

Casting her gaze over the surrounding area, the witch searched for a fragment of the spell's anchor- the stone of the walls. There were several chips of stone that had flaked off and fallen to the ground, but most were close enough to it that her picking them up might trip the wards. One piece, though, was about a foot away from the building, and soon found itself in the redhead's possession. Once she had obtained part of what the spells would detect as belonging to the wall, Ginny slowly began pulling out the pale vestige of the estate's own magical signature and casting several replications of it until she had a patch of iridescent energy that she could stretch to cover herself.

Effectively draped in the walls' own magic, the honorary Order member tentatively touched the rough stone. A moment's breathless pause proved her spellwork solid and she quickly set about scaling the walls with a quiet, "escendo."

Approximately ten yards up, she quietly unlocked a wide bay window with a wave of her wand and slipped inside. The redhead winced as she landed a little harder than she'd planned, reminding herself that her silencing charm was still in place. Trusting that it, along with her concealment spell, still held fast, the petite sixteen-year-old softly closed the window behind her and made her way to the door on the other side of the large room. Before leaving what appeared to be an unused bedroom, however, she took the opportunity to cast a tracing spell that would help lead her to the strongest source of passive magic in the area.

Inanimate objects, especially those previously spelled or warded, gave off traces of those spells, as well as any magic they absorbed from their owners or surroundings. Given that the desk she sought had been owned and used for years by one of the strongest witches in history, and had then been imbued with a portion of Riddle's powerful, if evil, soul, she was certain that it would be the first thing her spell would detect.

Ginny's assumption seemed likely as her wand pointed her towards the interior of the manor, where the rooms would have no windows to let in sunlight that might damage the books or wood or other surfaces of priceless antiques. The minutes it took her to reach her destination, while short, were tense and nerve-racking for the redhead as she strained to hear any sound that might indicate the approach of another individual or the activation of some unseen alarm.

When her wand finally indicated that she was within several yards of the source of magic that she was looking for, she halted and stared unerringly at the large double doors in front of her. Lowering her arm, but keeping her wand gripped tightly at her side, she bit her lip. This was as far as her spell would take her, and there was no telling what lay in the room beyond. Would she know the desk when she saw it? If she saw it? The glimpse of insight that had informed her that it was indeed a desk they were looking for had not granted her an actual visual of the object in question and her well of memories had been dry as of late. Did she even possess any other recollections, or had she uncovered all the remnants of the diary that existed within her?

There was really only one way to find out.

With a deep breath, Ginny reached out and carefully pushed the solid oak doors open and stepped into the largest library she had ever seen outside of Hogwarts. The comparisons to Madame Pince's domain went beyond the size of the room, however, but included the number of seating options and writing surfaces that it offered. From her position she could see at least half a dozen tables and desks. The confidence and hope that had been rising in her chest began to sink heavily into her stomach. There was no telling which of the desks was the one they needed. Blinking away the tears that stung the back of her throat, she took a less than self-assured step further into the room and turned on her heel to get a better look around the room.

She hadn't turned halfway around when she suddenly froze. Every muscle in her body seemed to clench in painful unison as the sight overtook her. It was not the sight before her that she saw, however, but one she had never actually seen, one that Tom Riddle had seen over a decade before when he had stood back to admire the wooden relic that he had just filled with a irreplaceable piece of himself.

Ginny Weasley took a gasping breath as the vision faded and the tension drained from her, leaving her staring at a simple yet intricately carved writing desk tucked reverently between two shelves of books on the history of Hogwarts and its founders.

She barely kept herself from racing across the room in her haste. This was what she'd been sent to find, this was what they needed, the next step to destroying the safeguard that Voldemort had placed to keep himself alive, and though the former Headmaster had not actually asked her to steal the desk, but only to determine if it was there, she couldn't simply leave. It was there, feet from her, and she simply couldn't bring herself to leave without it. She had to get to it, but first she had to find a way around the ward that encased it. Biting back a sigh, she examined the spells and allowed herself to relax. Apparently the latest Ethelward felt that the wards on his property and home were sufficient and had not used much more than rudimentary protective spells on the desk itself.

"Abrogo."

She watched with relieved satisfaction as the spells fell away and allowed her to run a fairly steady hand along the smooth wood before she shrunk the last remaining possession of Rowena Ravenclaw and placed it carefully in the special moke-skin bag she had used to transport Hufflepuff's cup. Neither wizard had known that she'd tucked the bag into her robes before she left, and she almost hadn't risked doing it, but she was glad she had, as it was possibly the only way she could have transported such a large object, even shrunk, especially considering the magic inherent in the object which could very well counteract some portion of her own spell. Inside the pouch, however, she had a much greater chance of getting it to her destination. She didn't let herself further consider the small possibility of something going wrong in transport, however. She had it, that was what mattered at the moment. That, and getting out of the estate with it.

Having the desk was not the same thing, after all, as handing it over to Moody and Dumbledore to be properly dealt with, so the redhead quickly retraced her steps. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and there were a few moments when she thought she heard something that could have been the approach of the estate's owner, but after several tense minutes the redhead reached the room she had entered through and made her way to the bay window and carefully swung herself over the sill and floated to the ground below. Taking a moment to remove the covering of magical signature that had gotten her through the walls' wards, she dashed breathlessly across the lawns and stopped once more at the exterior wards.

It took her longer than she would have liked to reopen the hole in the mesh of spells that protected the estate, but eventually she was through and running almost invisibly to the glade where she had first arrived. Reaching the cool shade of the trees, Ginny couldn't keep the grin from spreading across her face as she Disapparated.

Author's Notes:
For anyone that is interested, the latin translations of the new spells are as follows:
Dissimulo- to conceal, disguise, keep secret, to ignore, leave unnoticed
Patefacio- disclose, expose, make open
Escendo- ascend, go up, climb
Abrogo- to repel, annul, remove

End Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten:

She struggled not to send Tonks a look of raw relief and gratitude as the Auror came into the dreary library at Number Twelve. The bright haired witch wouldn't know why she felt so glad to see her; as far as everyone else was concerned, she had been enthusiastically determined to get Hermione's help with an upcoming project for her Ancient Runes class. No one except Moody and Dumbledore knew that her scores in Runes were already at the top of her year and that her true intention in requesting the help was to keep Hermione occupied and unable to help the boys plan or scheme any kind of getaway.

The need for her to separate and distract the Trio was ended by the older witch's arrival, however, and Ginny wasted little time in packing up her books and scrolls and leaving the bushy-haired Muggleborn to accompany Tonks to the back bedroom where they would meet Harry and Ron to review some of the complex defensive spells and hexes that she had taught them in their last session. Once the others had left, the youngest Weasley hastened to a meeting of her own, though she was sure to take the time to ensure that no one saw her head to the rooms currently occupied by the alleged head of the Order.

Her coconspirators had promised to inform her as to their progress in destroying the fifth Horcrux as soon as the pink-haired Order member had relieved her. She didn't intend to allow the two any extra time before they disclosed the full extent of their attempts. She half hoped that the only thing they would need to tell her when she arrived was the final spell that had proved successful in banishing the dark fragment of soul from the ancient artifact. Realistically, however, she knew that there was no way that they had managed to get through the complicated and complex web of shields and spells that had been cast on the desk both by the young Dark wizard that had defiled it, and the powerful witch that had originally owned it. From what she had been able to make out of the former Auror's brief description a few nights before when they'd stolen a couple minutes to talk about it, the task before them was still quite daunting.

It was certainly not the type of assessment she had hoped to hear. She'd wanted to have at least some reasonable possibility of reaching their goal before she had to return to school and her meetings with the other two would become less frequent. Considering, however, that the term would be restarting in a matter of days, that seemed highly unlikely.

It was more than frustrating.

Between acquiring the desk, and proving that she still may well contain more memories that could be of use, she had grown ever more sure that they could, and would, and must, soon take those last steps towards weakening the Dark Lord sufficiently to make his destruction possible. With her confidence freshly reinvigorated by her trip to Fittleborough, the proposition of waiting an unknown amount of time before they were able to crack the desk's defensives, and perhaps not even being involved in doing so, had been a painful blow to her inflated mood.

Ginny was trying very hard to maintain a positive outlook, though, and had thus far convinced herself that she was actually doing so. At least she had until she slipped into the wizards' quarters and caught the glimpse of pure frustration and the beginnings of desperation that was edging the voices of the ordinarily indomitable former Auror and Headmaster as they took turns retrying various spells to reach the blight beneath the magical shell surrounding Ravenclaw's desk.

"I believe it may prove more effective if we bypassed the protections entirely and tried to separate the physical pieces of the desk. Perhaps then it would be possible to pinpoint a weaker section of wood or magic on which to focus our efforts. Dilabor."

"The damn thing is too solidly built for that. Ravenclaw would have had strengthening spells worked into it when it was made. We need to work on the shields. We can't get to what's underneath until we weaken or destroy the top layer of them. Altero."

"Perhaps that would be a wise course, but a stronger approach would most likely be called for. Prosterno."

"Bloody hell. Maybe so, the spells can't exactly protect a pile of ash, can they? Extermino."

Albus Dumbledore sighed as the gleaming piece of furniture stood before them unscathed. "It would seem the object in question has no intention of testing that theory, Alastor."

The younger wizard let out a rather offensive sound of agreement.

"It would also seem that we have a visitor. Please come in Miss Weasley, make yourself comfortable. You'll excuse us, of course, while we take a brief respite from our trials?"

The sixth-year nodded slowly and did her best not to show any emotion as she watched the white-haired wizard wearily make his way into the adjoining room while his grizzled companion stomped through the door behind him. It was several seconds after they had left before she was able to pull herself out of the near-stupor she'd fallen into. It was difficult to process exactly what she had just seen.

Moody had been irate, and Dumbledore had been just plain tired. Granted, neither was exactly new, but the quality of their emotions had been much different than she had seen them, even at the height of their frustration in their search for this latest Horcrux. It was hard for her to believe that they were beginning to lose hope, but that was exactly what it looked like. They were so close, after all. Then again, that could very well be the problem.

They were so close, close enough to raise even hopes that had for so long been held low enough to avoid needless disappointment. And now, when half of their goal stood before them and refused to allow them to gain the next level, it was nearly too much to bear. It would appear that the others felt the same, but she refused to believe that they would never get past this obstacle. They had come so far, gotten so close. There was only one more Horcrux to find before the only part of his soul left to sustain him resided inside his inhumane frame. They would find it and they would destroy it, and Harry would fulfill the prophecy and destroy whatever was left of Tom once and for all.

But first they would destroy the soul part hiding within the beautiful relic standing so innocently in the dank sitting room she now knew so well. They would. They had to. If even one additional soul fragment remained intact, Voldemort would never truly die, and the Wizarding world would forever face its possible ruin. And that was something she would never allow to happen. She knew first hand what slithered in the recesses of Tom Riddle's shadowed thoughts and they were realities that the young redhead refused to see reach the light of day.

They would find a way. She would find a way.

Godric help me, but your colleague's desk will not protect him any longer, or I am no Gryffindor.

She had sent the thought as a declaration of intent, but it would seem they were taken as a plea, one that the spirit of her House's namesake saw fit to answer. His response took the form of bejeweled steel, which appeared before her without sound. One minute she was fixing her most determined of gazes on the seemingly impenetrable antique, and the next she was unable to look away from the gilded sword resting at her feet.

The memory came, dim and unfocused, but distinctly her own. Harry had held that sword, used that sword, when he'd saved her from Tom's basilisk. It was Godric Gryffindor's sword, the only direct possession of one of the Founders that Riddle hadn't defiled; the only remaining Founder's artifact besides the desk itself. It was the only other item that would hold the Founders' magic and might therefore have the ability to counteract whatever spells Rowena Ravenclaw had placed on her desk. And if Voldemort had worked his own spells into hers, the destruction of one might mean the destruction of the other.

Ginny Weasley barely breathed as she leant down and picked up the sword, barely felt her heart as it sped suddenly in her chest when she lifted the weapon and paused ever so briefly before bringing it down with the whole of her strength. Blade met wood with a force she had never thought herself capable of producing. Magic clashed and fought, one Fonder against another, then an instant's silence passed, as though Godric and Rowena were locked in a mute staring contest.

Rowena looked away first.

The sword slashed through the invisible armor that had surrounded the relic-turned-Horcrux and came to rest against the still-gleaming wood of the desk. A wave of shock overtook her, followed swiftly by a feeling of extreme exhaustion that left her too busy trying to steady herself and catch her breath to think about the fact that the desk didn't retain even a single scratch from the encounter, or to speculate as to the consensus the Founders may have reached in the duration of their confrontation.

Silence rang loudly in her ears and she found her legs unsteady beneath her, forcing the witch to stumble back a step and lower the sword with shaking arms. The point of the blade sank just a little into the old carpeting as she used it to take some of her weight. As she struggled to keep her chin from falling forward onto her chest, the connecting door opened and she met the clear blue gaze as it widened and then focused with an expression of surprise.

It was another long moment before her vocal chords remembered how to work; a moment during which the second wizard stepped into the doorway and took in the unexpected sight.

She answered their unspoken question in a raspy voice. "He helped me."

In the days that followed, Ginny often replayed that last moment in her mind, remembering the confusion and then elated disbelief that had filled the wizards' faces at her statement, and the former Auror's response that had reached her ears before she had passed out from the effects of channeling the magic that had been needed to break the ancient wards.

"Then let's not let his help go to waste, girl. Let's finish the bloody bastard."

Author's Notes:
The new spells in this chapter are:
Dilabor- break up, scatter, dissolve, fall apart
Altero- destroy, waste, weaken
Prosterno- knock down, destroy, ruin
Extermino- burn down, set on fire

End Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven:

When Moody had said that they needed to "finish" Voldemort, she had been too drained from her role in taking care of the desk's wards to apply his comment to more than just the immediate task. The larger picture hadn't clarified for her until the Horcrux was located within the desk and destroyed, curtsey of the spell Dumbledore had perfected over the previous summer. The fact that her magical exhaustion had worn off by that point also helped. Even when she was still worn and tired, however, a clearer picture in her head of exactly where they were going had improved her mood. Knowing how close they had come to reaching their goals she had found it easier to bear the weeks that followed, during which she had seen the return of classes and the retreat of useful memories.

Still, even considering the lack of recent insights or revelations, she was optimistic. Tom would be defeated, his remaining Horcrux would be found and destroyed, and she would use the lingering taint of one of them in order to do so; even if it meant following a course of action that made little to no sense to her at the moment.

"But I thought you said a pensive wouldn't work?"

"Indeed I did. The use of a pensive to explore the memories you carry would be a rather pointless endeavor as their content would be disjointed and nearly entirely one-dimensional. For lack of a better term, they would be hollow, and therefore of no use to us."

Russet brows furrowed slightly under his gaze. "But why exactly?"

The former Headmaster fixed her with a tired but patient gaze. "Without the accompanying emotional imprints you experience and the insight gained from your previous encounters with the diary, Miss Weasley, I am afraid I would be able to make neither heads, nor tails, of the memories Tom left in your mind."

"But," she shook her head slightly in confusion, "pensives don't usually include emotions, do they? I mean, Harry didn't ever say anything to the others about being able to feel what you experienced in your memories."

"That is correct, but as these memories were not yours to start with, your subconscious magic would not fill in the gaps without his feelings and your other insights to complete the images when creating your pensive. In addition, your mind acts as a sort of pensive for the diary to start with, so in transferring it to this one, some of the basic form would be lost."

Ginny nodded slightly, though traces of confusion still lingered on her features. "So why are we using a pensive if it won't work?"

"The pensive will not work on Tom's memories, but it is not those memories which we will be viewing tonight; it is mine," the elderly wizard intoned as he placed the tip of his wand to his temple and proceeded to draw a thin strand of silver memory from his own mind. Placing the strand into the bowl of the pensive, he sent the young witch an encouraging smile. "From our experience thus far it would seem that Tom's memories are often triggered by the sight or sound of similar or related information. I believe that I may be in possession of such a memory as would serve this purpose."

"Voldemort's snake, right? That's what you think holds the sixth Horcrux, isn't it?"

"That is my opinion, yes, but I would still like to have conformation of my hypothesis by a reliable source."

The look he sent her caused a sense of self-consciousness to rise in her chest. Having the most respected wizard of the age even indirectly say that he valued her opinion, that he trusted it as much as his own, even if it was because of the effect of Riddle's diary, was a bit of a shock to the system.

Not knowing exactly what to say in response, the youngest Weasley simply nodded and took a step towards the bowl. She hesitated before touching the iridescent surface, looking towards him in inquiry. He shook his head before she had a chance to ask the question forming on her lips.

"You may well make more useful observations without my being there to color your interpretations."

Nodding again, this time with a little less certainty, the redhead slowly lifted her arm and reached out, sucking in a breath as her fingers made contact and she was pulled into yet another foreign memory.

She had expected to find herself in the middle of an encounter with Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, had in fact prepared herself for such an experience, so it took her several moments to orient herself in the unexpected surroundings. Once she had taken in the brightly lit room, she realized where Dumbledore must have been when making this particular memory. Though she had never been to one herself, she recognized the description Harry had given to her brother when he had spoken of his trip with his relatives to the Muggle zoo. The scenery was remarkably similar to what Harry had talked about, mostly because it was the same place; perhaps not the same zoo, but certainly the same exhibit.

The reptile house.

Brown eyes blinked and cast about the gray landscape of glass enclosures, which she could see the white-haired man in front of her examining with poorly concealed fascination. He reminded her somewhat of her own father when faced with a new Muggle trinket, though she had to admit that Dumbledore was able to blend much more effectively with the Muggle crowd than Arthur Weasley could have ever managed to do. The one-time professor's taste in Muggle clothing was not what she was there to see, however, so she turned her attention to the matter at hand.

Since he'd thought that he knew something that would help her remember, she assumed that whatever that was would be something he knew he'd seen or heard and so focused on where the disguised wizard was headed. It took little concentration for her deduce exactly where he was going, or why he had chosen this memory for her to see. He was headed over to look at the snakes.

Ginny shook her head. She knew the Dark Lord's snake was the most likely Horcrux, she knew he wanted her to look at various snakes to see if maybe one of them might make her remember, but although she had known this before entering his memory, although she had come into it without question or hesitation, she doubted that it would do all that much good. She'd been thinking about snakes, picturing snakes, had even spent some time drawing various images of snakes in the hope of triggering something. It hadn't worked.

Yet she didn't leave her colorless location, but instead followed the black-and-white Dumbledore and proceeded to look carefully and intently at every slithery, scaly occupant of the unknown zoo. She continued to trail him for what felt like half an hour or so before she began to consider pulling herself from the elder wizard's memory. Still, she resisted the urge, knowing that if she left now, she would always wonder if she'd stayed, whether or not she could have seen or remembered something. So she stayed, and several minutes later, after they had rounded the tiled path a third time and started back through the exhibit, something caught her eye.

It wasn't so much the snake itself, as it was the aura that hung thick and rancid around its long body. It was a fairly average sized animal with the normal coloring and markings expected from its breed, but she could tell by the way the other patrons avoided approaching, or even looking at that one cage, that it was different from the others being housed around it. She knew it wasn't Tom's snake, she knew it was simply a regular snake that for whatever reason, had its own evil, but despite the lack of emotional imprint within the memory, a chill still skittered down her spine and she knew as the snake glanced casually in her direction that this was what her mentor wanted her to see.

If she had ever remembered standing before a mirror as Tom, she was sure that the sight that would greet her would be exactly what she saw in the once sparkling-eyed wizard's pensive. It was the eyes that forced the air momentarily from her lungs and nearly caused her to stumble backwards as the other memory slammed into her.

It was little more than a flash, the image of a huge snake with cold, cold eyes standing before her as she glanced down at the Dark Mark she had traced in the air with her wand and made a series of hissing noises that created a transparent wall between herself and the reptile. As the foreign but familiar sight faded she was left with a sensation of loss and longing that overlay the resolve to do what she had to do, even if it meant leaving her closest confidant alone.

The emotions throbbed in her head, making it hard to catch her breath as the redhead yanked herself back to the present and woke to the sight of two worried faces hovering above her own.

"Miss Weasley, are you all right?"

She nodded, ignoring the stiffness in her neck and made herself focus on the more grizzled of the two wizards, wanting to say her piece without being interrupted by concerned questions. For all that they had developed something almost approaching a friendship in the past months, she knew Moody would ask for details first, and her condition second, which was exactly what she needed at the moment.

"He locked it up. He used some kind of a warding spell, but not one I've heard before; certainly not one he ever taught me. He cast it in Parseltongue so I don't know the incantation, but I think it's supposed to key some kind of a lock or restrict entrance so that only someone with, or accompanying someone with, a Dark Mark can get in."

Neither wizard made any attempt at a response for several minutes, but simply sat and stared thoughtfully at her, at each other, or at nothing at all. Then, suddenly, Dumbledore broke the silence.

"There is no other way, Alastor. If such a restriction blocks Nagini's hiding place, then we have no other choice. He is our only way in."

The former Auror made a loud noise that sounded distinctly like a growl as he spun away from the older wizard and began pacing the room.

"It's a bad idea, Albus. It's dangerous and bloody stupid, and-"

Dumbledore raised his good hand, cutting the tirade off completely. The men's gazes locked and held until a silent decision was reached and the younger turned to Ginny with a dark scowl.

"Come on then, girl, it seems you've got somewhere to be."

End Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve:

Draco Malfoy felt his cheeks ache from the size of the grin he had been wearing for the last mile and a half, but didn't have the slightest inclination to drop the expression as he glanced behind him and noted the lead he had maintained for much of the race. The satisfaction he was feeling only increased when he looked forward once more and saw the finish line speeding towards him as his bike flew over the asphalt. When Aaron had proposed that they try their hands at motorcycle racing, instead of the auto racing that they had been playing with the previous few weeks, he had thought it would be fun, but he hadn't thought it would be this much fun. Though it may not have been if their wealthy elitist tendencies hadn't led all four of them to buy the newest, fastest bikes on the market two weeks before.

The young wizard let out a whoop as he reached the Tonks' driveway and swung his bike in a wide arch, braking just before he would have collided with Carren, who had arrived moments after him. The shorthaired teen screeched to a halt and pulled his helmet off with a glare. Draco just grinned back, too exhilarated by the ride to even respond.

"You're a bloody speed demon, Draco," Blake shouted as he and Aaron came to equally sudden stops.

The ice-blond thought of the times he'd snuck out of the dungeons and flew through the inky pitch just to see how fast he could push his newest broom, and smirked in agreement. "And you ride slower than shite."

Aaron shook his head, laughing at his friend's response as the four young men piled into the house. Carren just rolled his eyes at the affronted expression on Blake's face as he headed into the kitchen to grab a few snacks as the others piled onto the couch and tuned the telly to the football game that had started a few minutes earlier.

Draco nodded in thanks at the short-haired daredevil as he brought an armful of less than healthy options into the room. The Malfoy heir rose to help him spread out the food and drink on the coffee table, wondering how it was that Coral always knew when to stock up on junk food. He didn't remember mentioning that his friends would be coming over to watch the game today, but he must have said something, as she usually didn't have quite so much unhealthy fare at the house. He made a mental note to thank her for the foresight as he opened a soda and joined the others in yelling rather enthusiastically at refs and players alike, completely unaware that the rowdy chorus was being carried out the open window and into the ears of the two people currently approaching the small home.

Ginny Weasley glanced questioningly at the former Auror as they stopped in front of the tidy two-story house, her brows furrowing slightly as the sound of several voices reached her. It reminded her of the Burrow when all her brothers were home and a Quidditch game was playing on the wizarding wireless. The sounds were somewhat loud in the otherwise quite street and the redhead found herself even more confused than she had been a few minutes before. Neither wizard had seen fit to explain their destination to her before Moody had whisked her off. Nothing about the house seemed special or unusual to her, though she wasn't overly familiar with Muggle homes.

"Is this it?" Ginny asked as they continued to stand on the sidewalk. Her escort merely grunted and she was left to shift impatiently from one foot to the other as she waited to be told what they were doing and why exactly it had been so important that they did it. From Dumbledore's insistence that "he" was their "only way in", she had to assume that they had gone in search of someone to help them access the last Horcrux. The ward that Voldemort seemed to be placing in her memory was a formidable obstacle, and left them with few choices as to gaining access.

Logically, if she had been right about the type of ward, they had to be looking for someone who had, or knew someone who had, a Dark Mark, and yet was loyal enough to the Order to help them. The options were very slim. So slim, in fact, that Ginny could only think of one person who fit the criteria, though a nagging feeling in her gut told her that if they were meeting up with Professor Snape, she would not be needed.

"Where exactly are we?"

At first, Moody made no reply to the hesitant, almost apprehensive question, but after a moment he answered. "Garald and Coral Tonks' house."

The youngest Weasley let his words seep into her mind as she furiously examined the possible ramifications of that answer until she recalled the spell that had kept Harry safe with his aunt and uncle for so long. Surely that had nothing to do with them being here. Surely the relationship was too far removed to serve the purposes of that spell. But that didn't mean that particular spell was the only reason a familial relationship could be useful when looking for a place to hide someone. "Who are we meeting?"

Alastor Moody seemed to scowl even harder as he met her gaze. "Draco Malfoy."

The name confirmed the suspicions that had only begun to form and it was several seconds before she could get her thoughts into order and work out exactly what she was doing there. "You're not coming in, are you?"

Another grunt was her answer and she chose to overlook the main reason why she was being sent in his stead, not wanting to imply that he would be unable to behave professionally enough to get the younger wizard to help them. Certainly, the gruff man would be little help in even the semi-diplomatic mission they were currently on. She was the most logical choice of the two of them, since Dumbledore could not leave the former Auror's rooms, yet even knowing this, it took her a moment to set aside her own prejudices and calm her nerves enough to set about what she knew she had to do.

"It sounds like he has company," she said in a tone of forced calm.

Whatever she had thought of Malfoy the last few years they had gone to school together, the mere fact that he was hiding with his somewhat distant Muggle relatives and not with his parents and the Death Eaters proved that she was at least a little wrong in her assumptions. It was hard to believe that she had been so far off on her assessment of the Slytherin, however, that he would be a willing participant in the source of the raucous noise currently being emitted from the house in front of her. The sounds were those characteristic of the boys she had spent much of her time with, but seemed entirely too cheery for the perpetually sulky and bitter image of Draco Malfoy she had formed over the years.

Whatever he might or might not be doing inside the house, however, it didn't change the fact that she needed to go inside, to talk to him. They needed his help to have any chance of getting past the ward that Tom had erected to guard Nagini, and her standing out here on the sidewalk looking at the house was not going to get them that help. She had to go in.

"I guess it's time to break up the party."

She didn't wait for the grizzled wizard to reply to her muttered words, a part of her vaguely
noting that he had made another grunt before heading silently back to the alley to Disapparate as she took a deep breath and made her way to the door.

The few moments it took for someone to answer her knock passed slowly for the redhead as she tried to mentally formulate an argument that she thought the Malfoy heir might allow to persuade him to cooperate. She hadn't even decided on an appropriate introduction, however, when the door before her opened to reveal a dark-haired Muggle about her age, maybe a little older. The teen shot her a wide grin that was more than a touch appreciative as he looked her up and down.

"How can I help you?"

Ginny swallowed past the urge to tell him exactly what he couldn't help her with as he continued to stare. "I'm here to see Draco."

There was a subtle flash of disappointment on his face that he didn't even try to hide as he turned and hollered over his shoulder at the crowd of his friends that were still yelling at the television.

"Dray, visitor."

A distracted voice she recognized from countless insults reached her from the other room. "What's that? Kick the ball in the bloody goal not the stands ya arse!"

"Visitor. For you," the brunette told his friend in a much louder voice, this time managing to penetrate the surrounding cacophony.

Draco spent all of half a second processing the first word and running through a few possibilities as to who could be here to see him before coming up with a scenario that included him and all his friends on the floor under Cruciatus. The fact that his visitor had knocked politely at the door rather bursting in, wand drawn, however, implied a less than nefarious intent, but he still had to fight to hide the sudden tension in his shoulders and the battle-ready look in his eyes as stood swiftly from the couch and prepared to activate the charm hiding his wand in his watchband.

Even poised to encounter any number of Muggle or Death Eater acquaintances that might be at the door, he felt a second's shook as he took in the person waiting for him.

"Weasley."

The name was stated almost hollowly and without any kind of inflection that might indicate the tone of her reception, so she decided to be as neutral as possible in her own greeting as she nodded at the ice-blond. "Malfoy."

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, earning them a strange look from Aaron as the dark-haired teen glanced between them. "What, not going to introduce us, mate?"

The question brought Draco out of his stupor, and he turned almost reluctantly to his friend, as if afraid to take his eyes off her for even a moment before turning back to stare somewhat suspiciously at his unexpected visitor.

"Aaron, this is Weasley, Weasley, Aaron, Carren, and Blake" he said blandly, gesturing to each in turn as the other two filtered in rather curiously.

"Ginny," she corrected, forcing a smile through her nerves and shaking hands with the Muggles as if she wasn't standing on the threshold of an apparently allied Death Eater's hide-out. "My name's Ginny."

"Well 'ello there, Ginny," Aaron stated with a leer.

"Nice to meet you," said Carren.

"That it is. What is it that we can do for you?" asked Blake with a snobby expression that left little doubt in the redhead's mind what he and Draco had in common.

"I need to speak with Draco actually."

"Really?" drawled the sandy-blond with a slight sneer. "Why exactly would you want to do that?"

The youngest Weasley glanced over at the wizard, half expecting a vicious retort to the insult, the redhead surprised when all the snake did was roll his eyes at the other boy and fix her with a look that asked much the same question.

"We went to school together," she said when nothing better came to mind.

"Bit early for a class reunion, isn't it, Weaslette?"

She shot him a chilly glare, and though the hated name had been delivered with less venom than it ever had before, Ginny replied rather caustically just so that he knew she wouldn't simply let him insult her as she had so many times in the past.

"Not according to Fawkes," she replied, hoping that he understood the reference to the Order.

Being a Slytherin, however, he had little trouble interpreting her use of the phoenix's name, and only hopped she understood his own message as he crossed his arms and placed his right palm over his left forearm just below the bend of his elbow in a subtle reminder of the danger of someone from Hogwarts coming to visit him. "I suppose he would be appropriately conscious of his timing here."

"He would," she said seriously, doing her best to confer the precautions she had taken in coming and the necessity of doing so.

The three other teens looked back and forth between the two, various expressions of curiosity and confusion clouding their eyes as they listened to the almost cryptic sounding exchange. None knew quite what to make of the appearance of the girl, or their friend's reaction to her, but it was obvious to all of them that something was going on and the latent tension hanging heavily around them gave the impression it was something that the two should probably discuss themselves.

"Well," the other blond said, drawing out the word in an illustration of his confusion.

"Now that that's settled, we should get back to the telly before we miss our game, right mates?" Carren asked, giving his other friends a meaningful glance as he led the way back to the couch. "Nice to meet you, Ginny."

She nodded as she watched the three leave, shaking her head at the grin Aaron shot her over his shoulder before returning her full attention to the wizard. He returned her stare for several seconds before stepping back and gesturing for her to come into the house. "We can talk in my room."

End Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen:

She followed him without a word as they made their way down the hall and up the stairs. The silence continued when they entered the room, the blond shutting the door behind them and nodding to the chair at the small desk several feet away as he took a seat on the end of the neatly made bed. Even after they both got comfortable, silence reigned, and she found herself glancing around the small room, taking in the posters on the walls, showing everything from some people riding the kind of bikes that were parked out front, to a guy in a strange white outfit poised mid-kick, to what she thought might be some kind of Muggle sport that required a black and white checkered ball.

It all looked so very Muggle that she had a hard time understanding what either of them were doing there. Still, there was a very good reason she had come, and with that in mind, the youngest Weasley finally gathered her vaunted Gryffindor courage and spoke.

"Dumbledore sent me."

The blond nodded. "I'm guessing it wasn't to let me know it's all over and I can come out of hiding."

He didn't wait for her to respond, or for himself to examine whether he was more disappointed, frustrated, or relieved by the fact that he would be staying with the Tonks a while longer.

"So why exactly did he send you?"

The question, which she would have expected to be laden with disdain and annoyance, was stated rather blandly, and she took a moment to run her eyes over the young man in front of her. She was somewhat surprised by the soft tangles of his hair that hung in his face, and the lack of a sneer on his lips. The dark denim pants he was wearing were somewhat shocking in their casualness and outright Muggle quality. She was a little confused as to why the word 'corn' was misspelled and placed with such prominence on his shirt, though. In lieu of asking about that, she refocused her thoughts on the reason she was there and took a deep breath.

"We've been tracking down the Horcruxes," she paused, and he nodded to show he knew what she was talking about. She nodded in turn, glad that she wouldn't have to explain that part of it, though she spared a second to wonder when the former Headmaster had found the time or place to tell him about it.

"Well the one we're looking for now is apparently protected by a kind of warding spell that blocks entrance to all with, or in the company of, a Dark Mark, and-"

He sucked in a barely audible breath and resisted the urge to place his hand back over the blemish on his left arm, instead nodding again with as much calm as he could summon and finished for her. "And I was the only one with the bloody thing that there was a possibility of you all being able to trust."

He waited for the young Gryffindor to make some noble insistence that he was trusted or some other such tripe, but she merely nodded.

"Well, obviously your lot knows where I am and could easily make that information common knowledge, so I don't exactly see why you felt it necessary to come all the way here to let me know I would be helping in this little suicide mission. Honestly, couldn't you have just sent a letter in the post or something instead of invading my life?" he asked, any protective tone which might have shown through his last words covered pretty well with annoyance.

Red hair skittered across her thin shoulders with a shake of her head and brown eyes rolled as she took in his expression with a little more insight than made him comfortable. "First of all, I didn't know where you were until Moody told me it was you we were here to meet, which by the way, was after we'd gotten here. Secondly, I didn't come to tell you you'd be going, I came to ask if you'd get me through the ward so I could get at the damn thing. Third, it’s not a suicide mission, it has every chance not only of success, but of survival."

She swallowed the urge to detail her previous successes, not wanting to tell someone she had yet to trust, exactly how many Horcruxes they had stolen and destroyed since the beginning of her sixth year. For his part, he didn't indicate any disappointment in her lack of running at the mouth that could have satisfied his curiosity, instead rolling slate grey eyes as she continued.

"And lastly," she said, her tone losing some of her anger even as she hid the questions that had formed at his reluctance to have her there which seemed to surpass the concern he had for his safety. "an owl or Floo call would not only draw attention to what should be a strictly Muggle residence, but would be too easily intercepted."

He shook his head in exasperation. "Well of course it would. I was talking about Muggle post."

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe Dumbledore figured you'd be more receptive and less likely to brush off me than a letter."

He raised a single pale brow and let out a snort that somehow managed to come across almost dignified. "Perhaps, a person is harder to fit in the rubbish bin; but I still find it interesting that it was you they chose to send, though really, it was smart of them not to try Potter."

He caught the flicker of reaction in her eyes at the mention of the boy-wonder, and felt a smirk twist his lips. "So Potter's not quite in the loop on this one, is he? But you are?"

Draco waited for a moment, watching her closely for any response, but she remained steadfastly mute and surprisingly guarded, so he simply moved on, going back to the original topic. "Now that I think about it, even Muggle post would be more risky, what with you needing somewhere to receive a reply, and therefore a post office you could access without arousing suspicions. Much better for just you to be involved instead of a whole slew of postal employees."

She kept staring at him silently for several moments after he had finished speaking, though the blankness of her expression had taken on a shade of consideration. If she wasn't so busy reshaping a part of her view of the pure-blood snob to include a surprising knowledge of Muggle communication methods, she would have noticed the suppressed tick on his face as she eyed him up and down.

Instead, she was once again taking in the casual but good quality muggle attire and picturing the interaction she had seen downstairs with what she could only guess were his friends, though she had hardly seen him with anyone at school that could fit into more than the lackie or acquaintance category. It made her readjusted image somewhat disjointed and more than a little difficult to wrap her head around, especially when considered next to what so many had always assumed to be the ironclad destiny of the Slytherin prince.

At that thought, her mind automatically conjured a set of black robes and a silver mask, but before she could process the ill fitting match between the vicious Death Eater in her mind's eye and the uncomfortable teen across from her, she felt everything take on a grey tinge as the world dipped and twisted around her. Reality spun and whirled until she was the one in the stomach churning ensemble, and her own sibilant voice was hissing in her ear as the wand in her hand etched runes in the still air of the cave.

Draco, so recently the focus of a silent inspection found himself switching roles with the young witch as the blood began to leave her face and her eyes clouded over in a way that told him she was no longer looking at him. The blond watched for a second as she sat completely still, then started to tilt in her seat as the pale cast to her skin turned even whiter and he wondered if she was going to pass out. Standing, he cautiously covered the few feet between them.

"Weasley, you okay? Weasley? Ginny?" She made no response, but her eyes became a little less cloudy, even as the expression in them grew distant, but before he could consider doing anything, her eyes cleared and she tried to stand a little too quickly. The results of her efforts prompted him to reach out, steadying her with one hand as his eyes fixed on her still chalky face.

The memory snapped out of existence as Ginny felt the hand grab her elbow, making her suddenly aware of the fact that she was swaying on her unsteady legs.

"Thanks," she said in a quiet, but still trembling voice as he helped her sit back down in the chair she hadn’t realized she'd even left.

It was always a little disconcerting to come back to herself after recovering a memory, but for some reason, she felt especially out of it at the moment. Maybe it was because she had used so much of her magical energy Apparating from place to place behind Moody to disguise their trail as they made their way to see Malfoy. Whatever the reason, she needed a minute to let the dizziness subside before she left, which she most certainly had to do. She had to tell the others that there was more than just a ward requiring a Dark Mark, there was also one preventing any use of magic within the confines of the cave. It was a more than slightly daunting discovery as every mission she had yet been sent on had owed its success to her use of the spells and charms she had learned from Riddle, which were completely useless in this case. How were they going to get to the snake without using magic? None of them were anywhere near proficient in much of anything that could be called non-magical, or Muggle-"

Her gaze, much sharper than he had expected it to be given her state moments before, rose unexpectedly to pin him where he stood, bent over with his hand still on her elbow. "You live without magic here, you know how to do things without magic."

It was all stated so matter-of-factly, yet with an edge of calculated consideration the Slytherin never would have considered the Gryffindor capable of. While he was busy contemplating that, however, she was watching him, and the expression that filtered across his face at her words.

She wasn't quite sure if he looked more offended, or embarrassed, or perhaps, was that a flash of stubborn pride at his ability to adapt to Muggle life? Whichever it was, it lent another new shade to her shifting image of Draco Malfoy, though as interesting as that was, it wasn't nearly as important as the idea forming in her head as she stared at him.

"You have the Mark, we know that," she went on a little abruptly, causing his eyes to refocus on her face as he grew tense under her gaze. "We need the Mark, we know that too. But we also need to be able to operate without magic once we get past the wards, and you have the ability to do that too, or at least you know more about it than the rest of us, which leaves you as pretty much the only person who can not only get me into the cave, but through it..."

Shaking his head, Draco stepped back from the witch, running a hand through his hair. "Wait, wait. Since when can you not use magic? You didn't mention that before. And who said you were going wherever? I thought you were here to 'ask' me to help Moody?"

She gave no response to his questions other than a silent stare, but he noticed that the guarded expression was back in her eyes. Eventually she looked away, then back again with a less stoic caste to her features.

"All of the Horcruxes must be taken and destroyed before we have even a hope of defeating him, and we can't do that without getting around the wards. You have the Mark to get past the first, and may well have the knowledge to get us around the second. You are our best chance of getting this Horcrux, Draco; we both know that. What I want to know is if you are willing to do it."

He returned her intense gaze, neither faltering as the seconds ticked by, neither moving or speaking until he broke eye contact and turned to face the small window. "Death Eaters are arrogant, hateful, and no one who would even consider getting a Dark Mark would stoop low enough to use Muggle methods for anything. Doing something without magic would not even occur to them."

"You're not a Death Eater."

He spun on his heel, unreadable grey eyes meeting hers once more.

"You may have their Mark, but you're not one of them."

This time he didn't break eye contact. "I'm not exactly one of you either."

"No, but you'll help us, won’t you? You'll help me."

Silence hung stiff and heavy with expectation for several long moments. Then it was broken as his voice filled it.

"Yes, I'll help you, damn it."

End Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fifteen:

"Nagini? He's a Horcrux? We're going after the Dark Lord's pet?"

She blushed the slightest bit, having forgotten that he still didn't know exactly which Horcrux they were looking for.

"Just out of curiosity," he asked with a slightly harsh tone, "exactly how many of the Horcruxes have you all destroyed so far that we're going after one that is almost always with the Dark Lord himself?"

"Um, Harry took care of the diary his second year, Dumbledore found Marvolo's ring before your sixth year. Regulus Black actually stole and destroyed Slytherin's necklace years ago, and well, we got Hufflepuff's cup a couple months ago, and Ravenclaw's desk after Christmas."

"Five?" The word came out somewhat incredulous, and she couldn't decide is she was proud or insulted because he thought it so surprising that she and the others had taken and destroyed so many already. "So we're after the last, aside from the sodder himself."

She nodded and he shook his head, choosing to ignore the sense of responsibility, and the hint of pride that he was being trusted with it, and instead went back to the memory Weasley had apparently just recovered.

"So, uh, this cave?"

Ginny nodded, though she swallowed perceptively before she reached for the map she had been holding when the vision had taken hold. Shifting on the couch to allow him to see it, the redhead tried her best to organize the recovered memory into a coherent description.

"The entire system is like a large maze, large enough that the Death Eaters could have set themselves up at the far end. Even if they are there, they obviously wouldn't be going into an area that prohibits magic, so as long as we're fairly quiet, it shouldn't pose a problem. Besides, if they're triggered, the wards will let Voldemort know we're there no matter how far away he is at the time," Ginny said with a small shake of her head.

The blond nodded. "True enough, but it's more likely that there is a camp at the other end of the system; the Dark Lord has always kept his pet close to him in the past. Even if the wards against magic use don't extend to the opposite end of the cave system, they probably cover Nagini's end completely, and most likely continue a ways past the entrance."

"I would agree, he'd have made the wards as far reaching as he could without interfering with any camp they might have in the area, which makes it a little more difficult for us to get into the cave where Nagini's hidden. The only entrance I saw at that end was a really deep hole in the ground that led to a tunnel. Tom used magic to levitate down before he set the wards, but obviously we can't do that."

The wizard silently conceded that argument, and with a wave of his hand, indicated for her to continue.

"Our first problem, however, is going to be getting to the caves in the first place. I'm not sure how far from the entrance the wards extend, and we can't risk Apparating or Port-Keying in not knowing the scope of the ward. To make it harder, it's pretty isolated."

Draco eyed the paper in her hands, noting the location of the cave system and mentally calculating how best to get there when the time came. "There don’t appear to be many roads in the vicinity, but we could probably fly in pretty easily."

"But where would we land? If we don't know how far the wards go, we can't be certain how close to get. Even without using our wands, operating a broom uses magic, and..."

Draco shook his head with a laugh, and the Gryffindor fought not to raise her hackles. His expression wasn't exactly mocking, but memories of previous encounters with him made the reaction nearly automatic.

"Not on brooms, Weasley. I meant we'd fly in an airplane. There's no landing strip, but it would probably be best not to land anyway; it would draw too much attention if there are any Death Eaters in the area."

Putting aside any urge to snap, or reply defensively, to his laughter, she did her best to respond calmly, though she was unable to hide her underlying confusion. She'd seen several images of airplanes over the last week, especially on the picture box he liked to watch so much. And she'd even seen one in the sky her first day with the Tonks, but the rest of his answer alluded her.

"How do we get out of the airplane if it doesn't land?"

"We jump."

Brown eyes widened almost comically, drawing another chuckle from the blond. "Jump?"

"Yeah. Muggles have these things called parachutes that slow you down so you can land. I've not done it yet, but Aaron and the guys have lots of times. They can set us up with lessons, even loan us their gear. It'll be perfectly safe once we know what we're doing."

"You want us to jump out of the sky, without a broom or anything?"

He shook his head again, and couldn't keep from laughing again at the scared look on her face. "It'll be fine, I'll call the guys later about lessons. For now we should try to figure out how we're going to get in the cave once we're on the ground."

"And how exactly are we going to get out?" She tried to keep the challenging tone out of her voice, but she was well aware that she didn't exactly succeed. "If the plane can't land to drop us off, how is it going to pick us up?"

Draco shrugged with infuriating casualty. "I'll figure it out."

"You mean you don't know?" The redhead popped out of her seat and began to pace. "We can't go in without some sort of exit strategy. If we have to use magic, they'll know we were there and they'll figure out what we did and then they'll have time to get on the defensive. We need to do this as unobtrusively as possible so we can attack before He realizes we've neutralized his Horcruxes."

Her voice had risen in both pitch and volume as she spoke, leaving the wizard with rapidly thinning patience.

"Weasley." The word brought her attention away from her fearful preoccupation and the sharpness of his tone made her round eyes narrow in his direction.

"Malfoy." His own eyes narrowed the slightest bit at her caustic reply but he ignored it and instead looked own at the map, reaching out to poke somewhat irritably at the image of the cave system.

"The entrance. We have to decide how we're going to get down the shaft."

"The exit," she intoned with vehement, but subdued insistence.

Draco let out a rather explosive sigh. "I'll figure it out"

He held up a hand imperiously before she could respond. "All we need is the right trainer with the right background to get us access to the right equipment. The guys can help with that, but until I have that, and know exactly what we can get and when, I won't know what options we have to chose from. It may take a little while, but once we have that, I can arrange for an appropriate extrication. I'm not likely to forget about it, so just calm down and give me some time to work it out."

Ginny took a deep breath and forced herself to nod and take her seat once more. What calm she managed to obtain, however, didn't last very long when faced with his suggestion as to how they could get into the cave itself.

"First you want me to jump out of an airplane, and now you want me to jump off a cliff?"

Draco gritted his teeth against the outraged, and scared, words the witch threw at him. "We wouldn't be jumping, we'd be repelling, and it's not a cliff, it's a shaft."

"What's the bloody difference?"

"We'd have a rope attached to us that would help us repel down slowly and would be firmly anchored above the shaft entrance. It's perfectly safe, and pretty easy to do, so stop screeching at me."

Ginny clenched her jaw shut against the words that wanted to come out, the redhead watching her partner throw his arms into the air and stand from the couch in a huff. Once she had gotten herself moderately under control, she regarded him as calmly as she could.

"I'm sorry," she said with as little sarcasm as possible, "if I find the idea a little unsettling. This isn't exactly something I have a lot of experience with."

The wizard let out a loud sigh and ran his hands through his hair a few times before turning to face her. "Look, you said yourself that you don't know how far the ward against magic goes, and if we want any chance of getting in, we have to err on the side of caution and do everything the Muggle way. And the reason you're here is because I know how to go about doing that, so however it sounds, whatever you think about it, you've got to believe that I know what I'm talking about. I'm going with you, remember; I'm not going to pick something that is going to get me killed."

The redhead took a deep breath. Everything he said was true. He was the Muggle expert, strange as it sounded, and she needed his advice about how to get around the ward. Needing his advice, and taking it, however, were two very different things. After all the trouble and torment he had caused her and her family at Hogwarts, it was hard to trust him, especially to such a degree as this mission required. But it wasn’t at all like a Malfoy to put himself in danger, though it wouldn't surprise her if he were picking things that sounded dangerous just to scare her. The mission was still more important than her sense of ease or comfort, though. If they didn't take care of Nagini, Harry and the Order would have no chance of defeating Voldemort, and that was more important than any lingering distrust of Draco Malfoy.

"All right. So you know what you're talking about when it comes to Muggle stuff." She couldn't quite hide the less than confident tone, and it brought a less than patient sigh from her companion.

"Yes, I do. And I know that parachuting and repelling are our best shots at getting to the cave. And I know that even if we don't have an exact exit strategy yet, we will be able to plan one soon enough."

This time it was the witch who sighed as she once again acknowledged that she was going to have to trust his judgment in this matter. His ideas still made her uncomfortable, but she refrained from saying so, instead reaching up a hand to rub wearily at the headache that was still throbbing in her temples. The first few hours after regaining a memory were never pleasant, especially when they were spent arguing with a Malfoy.

The motion caught his attention, and grey eyes couldn't help narrowing as he pictured her reaction to the map they now knew depicted Nagini's hiding place. Even being annoyed with her as much as he was, the memory of her pale, slightly green face, her distant brown eyes, her shaking limbs, and her groan of pain as she snapped out of it, left him feeling slightly off center.

When he'd seen her have the reaction in his room after she'd first arrived, he had been unsettled, and perhaps even the slightest bit concerned. And then, when it had happened again, less than two hours before, he had felt much the same way. Yet now, knowing it was because she had accessed one of the Dark Lord's memories, actually seen what he had seen, it left an even more noticeably sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had met the Dark wizard, and he didn't want to even speculate as to what his memories contained. He certainly didn't want to speculate as to what she had seen or felt, or how sickening, how frightening it much feel to glimpse his thoughts or...

Draco shook his head. He didn't feel sorry for Ginny Weasley. She was a necessary evil to endure in order to destroy the last Horcrux, bring them closer to destroying the Dark Lord, and bring himself closer to having his old life back. His life away from the Tonks' and martial arts, and Aaron, Blake, and Carren, and pop and delivery pizza, and...

Now was not the time for pointless blathering, even if only in his head. If they were to have any chance at success, they needed to get to work. She needed to learn to repel down a shaft, and probably climb back up it, and they both needed to learn how to safely parachute out of a moving plane. Aaron and the others could handle that just fine he was sure, but they'd have to schedule some time with the plane and the rest of the equipment they would need. That was easily enough arranged, but as he reached for the phone to call his friends, he caught sight, once again, of the youngest Weasley rubbing her temples with a look of exhaustion on her freckled face.

"Why don't you go to bed, we’ve been at this long enough for tonight."

Brown eyes rose slowly to meet grey, a mix of relief and suspicion in her gaze. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure." Draco took a deep breath before he finished that statement the way he wanted to. "I'm going to go to sleep in a minute myself, just as soon as I give the guys a call and set things up for tomorrow."

It was probably a measure of how much her head hurt that she didn’t question him any further, but instead merely made her way up to the room she had been assigned for her stay. It was probably a measure of how much her involvement was required for a successful outcome that he watched her slowly ascend the stairs before he once again reached for the telephone.

End Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen:

Ginny took a deep breath as she stood on the edge of the mock cliff and leaned back in preparation for her descent. She made sure her hands were in exactly the position Aaron had told her to hold them. Her right hand was clenched tightly but carefully around the rope that extended all the way to the ground behind her, holding in against her thigh to keep it tight against the D-ring in her harness. Her left was lightly clasping the rope, preparing to guide herself as she stepped backwards off the edge. Cautiously she took another two steps and with a deep breath, kicked lightly off, loosening her right hand as she fell about ten meters. A quick glance to her right assured that she was almost in time with her partner as she shifted her right hand once more and slowed her fall.

The redhead forced her breathing to remain calm and tightened her legs as she swung towards the faux rock face and kicked off lightly once more, releasing her right hand and falling another twenty meters. Anticipating the approach of the ground beneath her, she tightened her right hand again, but only enough to slow her fall for the final thirty meters as she kicked off the wall again. Her heart was beating slightly faster than normal as she landed on her feet a second or two after Draco, and she unhooked the rope from her harness with nearly steady hands.

It was the third straight day they had spent practicing their controlled fall, a fairly short amount of time, in her mind, considering the progress she had made. It had actually taken longer for them to match their pace than it had for her to learn the mechanics of rappelling, but it was important that they entered the cave as one so that his Mark could allow them both entrance past the warding.

Even with that extra time, however, they had reached adequate proficiency much quicker than she had anticipated. That was not to say that they were done with their lessons. Neither Draco, nor his brunette friend, were satisfied with the speed or ease of their tandem descent. They would probably end up practicing rappelling the nearly sixty meter drop for another few days before they declared both of them ready to tackle the next step. After all, once they had gotten down the shaft into the cave, they would need to come back up again.

She was reasonably confident of her ability to properly ascend the mock cliff they had been practicing on, it looked easier than rappelling, especially when the strange little machine Blake had shown them would be doing most of the work. Her confidence only grew as the sandy-blond Muggle showed her and Draco how to operate the small winch two days later. Her hands barely even shook as she stood at the bottom of the wall of fake rock and hooked the rope into her D-ring for what felt like, and probably was, the thousandth time that week.

She spared a quick but not too terribly nervous peek at Draco as he did the same, and aimed the small remote at the winch above her head. As soon as she pressed the right button, the witch felt the small machine tug at the rope, taking up the slack until she was forced to take a step closer to the wall, and then one onto it. It was a strange, but by now familiar feeling, to basically walk vertically, though this time it was up the wall instead of down it. Whichever direction it was in, it was just familiar enough that by now it took little conscious effort to adjust her stance and position herself correctly in the harness as she ascended.

Hoisting herself the last foot or so over the edge was a bit more difficult, but countless hours of practice throwing a Quaffle had not left her arms too weak for the task and she soon found herself standing next to Draco and his muggle friends with a nearly confident smile. The expression lasted only until Aaron announced that he had arranged for them to start their parachuting lessons the next day and it wasn't until a week and two dozen jumps later that she found the smile returning. She wasn't the only one who noticed.

The days of training and drills which had preceded any actual parachuting had left her with the distinct impression that a rogue Bludger had been let loose in her chest. Despite her abundance of rather raw nerves, their first trip hadn’t been that difficult as it had been purely observational, with her and Draco watching the others plummet towards the ground with little more than a large piece of fabric and a few dozen strings to slow them. She had the feeling that had it not been for her presence, the guys would have forgone the demonstration, and though it was nice that Aaron and the others were trying to ease her into it, she felt all the more resolved to master the challenge before her in a manner and at a speed that would not embarrass her in comparison to Draco’s surprising ease with such endeavors.

That inner determination proved helpful, and quite warranted as her stomach had knotted up harder than one of Hagrid’s rock cakes as soon as the jump door of the plane had opened on their second trip up. She had tried not to let it show, but she was sure that the others noticed, if only because Carren didn’t say anything when she was too busy listening to the wind roar through the plane to hear him when he went over the instructions one last time.

The appreciation she felt for the normally jovial boys not making a joke, good-natured as it would have been, out of her fear was the only thing that kept her from hating all four of them as she jumped from the aircraft. As the lessons had continued, however, she had needed less and less of a reason to not dislike the rowdy teens, even when she found herself the topic of their jests. The more she flew and jumped, the less her stomach rebelled at the thought of doing so until it eventually began to fill with butterflies instead of Bludgers. Hence her returning smile. And Aaron’s answering grin.

"Hah. I knew you were one of us," the brunette stated rather smugly.

She responded with a raised brow, though she couldn’t quite keep the smile from widening, drawing a laugh from the Muggle. She chuckled as well, knowing exactly what he meant and having to agree, even if only silently. When she’d first started learning all the crazy, seemingly suicidal things they’d been teaching her and Draco, and realized all the other crazy stuff he’d already done with them, she’d thought them all quite thoroughly insane. Yet, once she’d gotten comfortable with the idea of such things, she’d started to truly enjoy herself and finally see why the four boys liked it so much. What was it they had called themselves? Oh yeah, adrenaline junkies. She was pretty sure that if she kept this up very much longer that she could actually see herself eventually fitting that definition as well.

Eventually.

She was still a little unsure of what else the teens would find to throw at her over the next little while, and was pretty sure that they could come up with something that would completely terrify her if they put any real thought into it. Regardless of how much fun she’d managed to have so far, it had always come after a period of outright fear during which only her pride and stubbornness, and foolish Gryffindor bravery had seen her through. She was almost positive that Draco knew that too. He, and his friends by extension, had been unerringly considerate for the first period of her training when she was most afraid, only to then tease her mercilessly once she had started to work past the fear.

The former behavior was somewhat puzzling coming from the Slytherin, though the latter certainly wasn’t. Much of what she had seen and experienced in her interactions with the blond wizard had left her feeling off balance. She’d thought she’d known him back at Hogwarts, at least enough to be able to predict his behavior on a basic level. But so much of his behavior now contradicted what she would have expected even as that same snide arrogance often crept through, making her second guess whether he had really changed as much as it appeared.

She’d never have expected, for example, Malfoy to have done anything physical which didn’t involve a broom and the snitch. Yet he had obviously taken up many Muggle activities like the ones they were learning now. He’d met the other boys because of his martial arts classes, something, once it was explained to her, seemed at once fitting and the opposite of the image of him she’d long carried. He’d always seemed the sort to enjoy learning ways to hurt others weaker than himself, yet she’d once watched him in an Aikido competition and while he’d shown himself aggressive and even arrogant in the sport, his fighting had not seemed to her in any way malicious.

Malicious had appeared to define him at Hogwarts. Then again, so had pure blood elitist hater of all things Muggle. Yet here he was, not just hiding in the Muggle world, but truly living in it. And appearing to enjoy himself while he was at it. He interacted in the surroundings she still found foreign and difficult as if he’d been born to it, which he most certainly had not. This meant he had probably had to put considerable effort into acquiring the proficiency in Muggle technology and customs which he so effortless displayed. Why had he chosen to do that? If she’d had to hazard a guess, she would have thought he’d mope and sulk and cling to his supposed superiority if placed in such a situation where his other option was to join Muggle society. So why hadn’t he done exactly that? And why, when it came right down to it, had he even been in the type of situation where he faced such a choice in the first place? Why had he been sent to stay with the Tonks'? How had he become embroiled in the Order?

“You can act like you hate it, but you know you love it just like we do,” Aaron elaborated, as if in answer to the silent question she had posed before they’d started laughing.

The words brought Ginny back from her musings, causing her to laugh once more with a shake of her head. She avoided an all out admission, however, not quite sure she wanted Draco to know how much she was enjoying the activities she had so vehemently argued against when he’d first proposed them the day she’d remembered which cave it was they’d be attempting to basically break into. If one could actually break into a cave. Before her thoughts had a chance to wander off along that road, she focused once more on the dark-haired teen making his way to her side.

“Ready to go again? We only have the plane another two hours today.”

Her smile dropped into a grimace as she sighed and followed him back towards the aircraft with a nod. Even a developing enjoyment couldn’t take the full sting out of the practice schedule Malfoy and his friends had devised. As soon as she – and Malfoy, but mostly just her – had been declared adequately proficient in rappelling, ascending, and parachuting, the day before, they had decided to begin loading them both down with all the gear they would need to bring for the actual trip through the cave.

Over and over again over the next few days, they practiced doing everything with increasing loads, until the witch and wizard could jump, land, rappel, run, climb, and ascend with more weight strapped to them than Ginny had once thought she could hold. There were the ropes, lines, and winches that would take them up and down the shaft, as well as their main and backup chutes and harnesses, though thankfully they’d be taking those off when they landed. And that didn’t even take into account whatever they might need to extricate themselves from the area when they were done, a process they still hadn’t figured out, though Draco assured her he and the others were working on it.

The weeks of training and practicing were long and grueling and she was eager for them to end. Even considering that when she wasn’t too tired and sore to remember her own name, she’d really begun to enjoy herself, she was anxious to be finished and ready to take on this last task before the Order could focus on the Dark Lord himself. The end seemed like it might finally be in sight soon, but she was well aware of all the problems that still loomed ahead of them.

They still didn’t know what they were going to do with Nagini once they got to him, how they would get themselves and the snake away from the cave. Not to mention if they’d be able to successfully do any of what they had, and had yet to plan. Stealing Voldemort’s pet was no small or easy task. And she had little idea of what exactly would happen if they were successful in getting the snake. The redhead swallowed hard. Not if, when. They would succeed. She wasn’t working this hard in order to fail. They couldn’t fail. The Order was depending on her and Malfoy to do this, and they would. Yet even success wouldn’t end the questions plaguing her. Once the last Horcrux was obtained, it would have to be destroyed, and once it was destroyed, the battle would start, and her part in it all was sure to come out eventually.

How would everyone react to that news? Harry, Hermione and Ron were sure to be upset and she had never actually gotten up the nerve to ask Moody what he’d told her parents about what she was up to. Seeing as no one had tried to drag her back home, she assumed he’d lied to them the same as he had to the trio, saying she had been moved somewhere ‘safe’. And even if she weathered their reactions and the battle with the Death Eaters, there was more to consider. She’d probably have to return to the school to make up for all she’d missed while here with Malfoy. And Malfoy… What would he do when it was safe for him to leave the Tonks’?

The youngest Weasley closed her eyes with a silent groan. There were just too many questions buzzing around in her head and it was going to drive her absolutely nutters if she thought about it any longer. As far as their job was concerned, Malfoy had told her to trust him; that he would solve the remaining problems there and she was actually starting to find it possible, if not easy, to do so. He’d found Muggle techniques and tactics to get them to and into the cave; he’d find the ones to get Nagini and extract all three of them when they were done. He’d get her through this last task, and what came after that would wait until that time had come. For now, she thought, she’d simply enjoy the parts of the training process she could. Ginny glanced over at Malfoy and the others as they worked on storing their chutes and other gear for the night. The wizard looked up then and fixed her with an expectant look.

“You going to put away your stuff, Weasley? I’d like to get to dinner sometime before midnight.”

Where once there would have been rancor in his words, there was only a tired impatience and for some reason she found herself rolling her brown eyes with a small smile.

End Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen:

She could have benefited from the type of research he’d done before venturing out into the Muggle world, the blond thought as he watched her fumble a little with her seatbelt as he came to a sudden stop in front of the Tonks’ home. Draco let out a small chuckle as she lurched forward with a quiet shriek and reached over obligingly to unfasten it for her. She tossed him a glare as she quickly exited the small sports car he had leased once he’d realized that he couldn’t very well cart her and their gear around on the back of his motorbike. He got out more slowly and watched her stomp tiredly into the house.

She’d been in a less than pleasant mood since that morning when he’d presented her with the solution he had come up with for their post-snakenapping get away. At first she’d simply looked at him as if he’d lost his bloody mind. His explanations and assurances had done nothing to persuade her that he wasn’t having her on. She’d been sure it was a sick joke and hadn’t been pleased with him about it. It wasn’t until he’d taken her to meet the former special ops soldier he’d hired to equip and train them that she’d started to believe him. Still, it had taken the other man several minutes to fully convince her the tactic was an authentic military method of extraction, if one only truly utilized by special forces units.

He’d barely held in his laughter at the wide-eyed look on her pale face when their instructor had explained the exact process they’d be learning. It was a very tricky technique, though they wouldn’t have to do anything too difficult. The pilot, on the other hand, would need to have an advanced and special skill set to pull it off. Good thing their instructor had the right skills and was more interested in his paycheck than in asking questions. Apparently, while the Malfoy fortune couldn’t buy his freedom in the Wizarding world, it could get himself, Weasley and Nagini from the cave to the closest landing strip, which might well amount to the same thing if this managed to help win the war for the Order.

Brushing aside that strangely unsatisfying thought, Draco followed the unhappy young woman into the house. He made it into the kitchen just as she was getting a bottle of water out of the fridge, closing the door a little harder than necessary as she turned to get a glass. The blond felt the corners of this mouth tilt up just a little as he suppressed the laugh that wanted to form at her actions. He simply couldn’t help but find her reactions to his plan a bit amusing. Even so, he was faced with a strange sensation as he caught a glimpse of her face and the genuine fear that shadowed it, just behind the almost sulky expression she wore. The Malfoy heir had the sudden urge to tell her that everything was going to be fine, that they’d be perfectly safe and she had nothing to worry about.

He pushed the foreign feelings aside with a mental roll of his eyes.

Weasley would be fine all on her own, he told himself. She’d been scared at the idea of rappelling into the cave shaft, and of parachuting from the plane, but the small redhead had gotten over her fear and managed to not only perform both actions, but to become proficient at them. She even seemed to have started to enjoy them, too. And all without a single complaint. Sure, the witch had protested rather loudly at the ideas when he’d first presented them, but once they had begun training, she’d cooperated completely, putting all her focus and effort into mastering each task. She hadn’t begged not to go, or even asked him to find another way. She hadn’t whined about having to practice over and over again, hadn’t moaned about being tired or sore when he knew she’d been in worse shape than he had throughout the process. All in all, she’d proven herself to be a lot less bothersome and annoying than he’d expected.

Draco got out his own water with a glance at the petite Gryffindor sitting at the table only a few feet away. Maybe she had proven more than just tolerable to work with. She caught on to things quickly, and seemed to possess a natural aptitude for the type of activities they were learning. And, if he had to be completely honest, once she got past her fears, she was a little fun to work with. Though the way she had a tendency to bite her lip and get really quiet and introspective right before trying a trick for the first time, as if she were giving herself a little mental pep-talk, was kind of fun to watch too. And not just because she was a Gryffindor and obviously scared silly. That part was funny, sure, but the part where she did what she needed to anyway, and usually with a glare at him first; that was the best part. Every time she did it, he could almost hear her voice in his head, telling him he could take his daredevil stunts and choke on them, because she was damn well going to do them, and do them just as well as he did.

She had spine, he had to give her that. Not that that came as a total shock, he had played against her on the Quidditch pitch, after all. The same athleticism that she showcased on a broom was evident when she scaled the faux rock wall, or jumped from an airplane. The same intense and borderline aggressive expression he’d seen her wear when barreling towards the goal hoops had more than once covered her face as she went through their lessons. She was more than a little competitive, in almost everything she did, a trait which seemed to him to only strengthen as they grew nearer to completing their training and therefore beginning their actual task for the Order. She took her role very seriously, he knew, and more than that, appeared to consider the task a type of personal mission. She got the most appealing look on her face when she was bent over the small notebook she kept to record their plans and progress in.

Draco blinked for a moment before opening his water and taking a long drink. She… the look she wore, he corrected, was appealing because it meant she was working diligently on the task at hand, one that although he never really asked for it, could mean the downfall of the evil psycho who was responsible for turning his life upside down and stranding him in the Muggle world. In the world where he had discovered unsuspected talents and interests and genuine friends he enjoyed spending time with. Friends she fit in with without any real effort though they weren’t her friends, and without him there to have introduced them, would probably have never met her in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds. Despite how well they got along with the redhead, they were his friends, and however well she’d managed to fit within it, this was his life. Though having her there hadn’t really been all that much of a trial for him. She was decent entertainment, if nothing else.

She was just plain funny to watch when she was trying to puzzle out some unfamiliar Muggle gadget, after all. The way she scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes, nearly looking like she was glaring the small piece of electronics into submission; he liked to watch it. Her confusion and frustration were quite amusing to him, often leaving him with the need to suppress a smirk or laugh at her expense. He also enjoyed the way her eyes would go wide and a fierce grin curved her lips when she managed to work out how to operate whatever it was that had presented the latest challenge in her adaptation to Muggle life. Her excitement at her own success was starting to affect him as well, but in a way that was leaving him with a need to suppress something else all together.

The bottle paused for just a second as he lifted it for another drink. The thought almost stuttered in his head before he brushed it off with a mental shake. A sense of vague confusion as to the exact origin and meaning of that particular thought hung in the back of his mind, causing him to glance almost uneasily over at his houseguest. The glance revealed signs of exhaustion overtaking the anger and fear on her pale freckled features, a sight that nearly started to dissolve his lingering discomfort. Her pallor set off her sprinkling of freckles to a previously unnoticed degree, almost reminding him of the sprinkle of cinnamon he sometimes ordered on the white froth of his coffee.

The Slytherin took a large swallow of water. Way off target. Lack of sleep and a constant flow of adrenaline were starting to get to him. With another large swallow that had nothing to do with being thirsty, the blond set down his water and opened the fridge once more, focusing his attention on its contents as he spoke over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you go get some sleep so you’ll have the energy to be somewhat useful tomorrow?”

The words had contained a shadow of his own exhaustion and whether she heard it, or was simply too tired herself to respond, Ginny followed his advice with only a half-hearted, “Hmph, ” leaving him alone in the Tonks’ quiet kitchen.

Draco spent the next few minutes assembling a large sandwich for himself before carrying it with him up to his room, glancing almost absently at the room at the other end of the hall in which his relatives slept soundly. He didn’t glance at all at the closed door to the small sitting room slash library next to his bedroom where the pull out sofa had been designated as Ginny’s during her stay. He didn’t look at the wall separating their rooms even when the faint sound of whimpers drifted through it as he munched on his sandwich and prepared for bed. At least not until the sound began to reach a volume that he was sure would disturb any rest he might attempt to find. It would be a waste of time to try to sleep with that kind of racket going on. He really had no choice but to go over there and tell her to keep it down. He needed his sleep after all.

Clad in the comfortable flannel pants and t shirt he had purchased for himself about a month before, the young wizard covered the short distance from his door to hers and knocked a few times. When his actions failed to gain her attention enough to wake her, he stood silently for a moment, staring at the door before he reached for the knob and made his way inside. Another few seconds passed as he stood in the doorway and simply squinted into the dark interior at the sofa bed where he could make out the blanket covered lump that was emitting low murmurs and slightly louder whimpers.

Letting out a sigh, the blond walked swiftly across the soft carpet and only hesitated a moment before placing a hand on her nearest arm and giving it a slight shake. Pausing to see if she would finally wake, he sighed again and repeated the action, this time calling her name as well. He kept his voice soft, so as not to wake the Tonks' as well, not even wanting to think about the questions that would raise. Coral had been sending him enough strange looks when she returned from work to find he and Ginny ensconced on the front sofa, discussing how best to fine tune the plan.

Despite his best efforts, however, the witch remained soundly asleep and the distressed noises she was making only grew louder. Shaking her a little harder this time, Draco called her name softly a second time, making a face of his own as he watched her features contort into a pained expression. Annoying, that’s what this was, he decided as he quickly redoubled his efforts before she was able to make anymore such expressions or let out any more pitiful sounds.

“Weasley. Hey. Ginny!”

The last was barked out mere inches from her face, forcing him to jerk his head back as her eyes suddenly snapped open on a gasp. She blinked up at him for several seconds, as if waiting for her eyes to focus and he took the opportunity to straighten completely and shuffle back a few steps, his arm falling to his side.

“Draco?”

He nodded at her confused and ever so shaky question, then cleared his throat, not sure how well she would be able to see the gesture in the dark. “Yeah.”

He went to take another step away from her bed, felt the backs of his knees collide with a chair and instead sat down across from her, simply for convenience sake, he was tired and had spent much of the day on his feet. She didn’t seem to notice his actions, instead looking around her as if she wasn’t quite sure where she was. “What…?”

He shrugged his shoulder at the exclamation. “You were having a nightmare, I think,” he leaned forward, elbows on knees in a casual and completely unconcerned slouch.

Ginny seemed to stare at him for a few tense seconds, then swallowed with a nod of agreement or acknowledgement, he didn’t know. He shifted silently then, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest while nonchalantly looking over the contents of the desk he was currently sitting at. “Was it from…?”

He let the question hang, unfinished, but she hardly needed to hear the rest to know what he was asking, and responded with a stiff nod before looking away herself. “Not about the Horcruxes though,” her voice lowered even more than the soft tone she was already using. “It would be better if that was all he left, but there’s other stuff too. Memories, things he thought, or said, or did. It’s…”

This time it was she who trailed off and him who nodded, not needing an explanation to go with the drawn, haunted look on her pale face. “I met him once.”

It was all he needed to say as their eyes met briefly and they both lapsed into silence once more. The silence lasted several heavy moments before being broken by the blond quickly leaning forward, one pale hand darting out to give hers an awkward, halting pat where it lay on the dark blankets. She barely had time to blink at the unexpected action before he was on his feet and headed towards the door. His long strides froze for just a second as he reached the hallway, his words stilted as he turned back briefly.

“‘Night, Weasley.” His eyes landed on her long enough to catch the weak smile she sent in response, her voice carrying to him through the quiet room.

“Thanks.”

He paused again, and in the shadowed light, it almost looked to Ginny as if Draco Malfoy smiled at her before he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind himself. His face was blank of all but a hint of puzzlement by the time he reached his own room, however. ‘Thank you’ was a standard phrase, an automatic response a person might hear a dozen times a day, but when she’d said it, abbreviated or not, it had sounded like she really meant it. It made him crinkle his pale brow as he settled into his bed.

As a Slytherin he’d had limited experience with sincerity, and it was somewhat disconcerting to receive it from someone who knew him as a Slytherin, especially when that person was one he knew as a Gryffindor. After the first few days of her stay, however, they hadn’t really treated one another as a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, though. More like reluctant allies, who had seemed to become not-so-reluctant partners in the last few weeks. Even so, he wasn’t sure how to take her thanks. With his housemates, he never would have received an acknowledgement of help because that would have been an acknowledgement that the person had needed help in the first place, which a Slytherin never did.

He’d been thanked by the new friends he’d made here, and by the relatives he was staying with more than once since he’d moved here, but that was different somehow. He wasn’t sure how or why, but a thank you from Ginny Weasley was different. More than just a thank you was different if he really thought about it. But he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t think about the fact that such differences somehow bothered him and that he was somehow completely okay with that. He needed his sleep, after all, and now that the redhead next door was finally quiet he could get that sleep. Which, once he turned out his bedside lamp, he did. Without a single glance towards the wall that separated his room from hers.

End Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen:

Draco was not what one would call a morning person. He’d been able to wake quickly and completely for years. Being a Slytherin surrounded by Slytherins, he’d long ago seen the intelligence in having such an ability. And he certainly hadn’t lost it once he’d fled the Wizarding world. That did not mean he enjoyed mornings. The blond relished the opportunity to sleep in whenever possible, and took advantage of every such opportunity. Unfortunately, since beginning this project, there had been few, if any, mornings when there hadn’t been so much to do that an early wake up had been necessary. It was because of this fact that he once more found himself up, dressed, and eating breakfast at an unpleasantly early hour. The only upside to being awake this morning was that he was able to have his breakfast undisturbed by the annoying chatter that usually accompanied the meal.

Grey eyes flicked casually over the redhead sitting across the table from him. Ginny Weasley did not term herself a morning person either, but she was almost always awake before he was. Perhaps it was a habit she had honed to avoid being vulnerable to the twins she had the misfortune of calling her older brothers. He really didn’t think he wanted to know what such remarkably uncivilized pranksters would be capable of doing to a slumbering victim. Draco shook his head as he continued his meal. At least she had the intelligence to protect herself against such actions, that was something the Slytherin in him could almost admire.

Another thing he could admire was quiet, especially so early in the morning. He took a moment to simply bask in the silence before going back to his food once more. Such a lack of conversation, even if it was one-sided, had become unusual since she had moved in. The Tonks’ usually left for work not long after he woke, so he had always had the house to himself, and since he did not have a habit of talking to himself, and his friends rarely came by before noon, noise in the morning had never been a problem. Until she came. Yet this morning she had deigned to leave him alone for the entirety of their meal thus far.

Draco glanced over at his pale houseguest once again, though his gaze held no true interest what so ever. It certainly didn’t hold any concern. And he didn’t think back to the night before, or the nightmare that she’d had. In Slytherin, no such event was discussed, except to exploit another’s weakness. Of course, the redhead was anything but a Slytherin, and having pieces of the Dark Lord trapped in her head wasn’t exactly a weakness per say. Granted, it did seem to wear her down, and she clearly found it disturbing on multiple levels, but she was taking advantage of the situation, manipulating it – and in a way, the Dark Lord himself – in order to give her side the advantage. Yet again something the snake in him could perhaps admire. If he wanted to. Right now all he wanted to do was enjoy the quiet; the eerily uncharacteristic quiet.

The blond sat for a moment, his gaze trained on the redhead before clearing his throat abruptly. “What is it?”

Brown eyes snapped up at the unexpected noise, blinking several times before her nose scrunched up in a questioning, if preoccupied, expression. “I’m sorry?”

Draco let out a short, gusty sigh. “What is it that’s wrong with you this morning?” he gestured vaguely at the table.

She shrugged halfheartedly. “Nothing.” He simply continued to stare at her and this time it was Ginny who let out a sigh as she continued. “I was just thinking.”

The wizard waited several seconds, then raised a single eyebrow slightly in annoyance when she said nothing else. “About what, exactly?”

“Hmm?” the Gryffindor looked up from her plate, where her attention had drifted after answering his last question. “Oh. Well…”

Draco raised his eyebrows, and though he said nothing, she was under no misconception as she met his eyes that he had any patience left.

“I’m just a little worried, is all. We still don’t know what we’re going to do about the snake. We have to kill it, of course, but we don’t know that that will take care of the Horcrux; in fact, we have good reason to think it won’t. All the other Horcruxes were so difficult to destroy, it took all three of us to figure out how, and they were inanimate objects. We don’t know if Nagini being alive affects the stability or protection of the Horcrux. We may have to kill Nagini and then destroy it. And since Voldemort is connected to Nagini, there’s the possibility that he’ll know something is wrong as soon as we get to Nagini, or at least as soon as we kill her. What if we don’t have time to destroy the Horcrux before he can organize his defenses or even attack the Order? What if he knows when we do finally destroy the Horcrux and can get the Death Eaters together before the Order can attack? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”

The Malfoy heir stared at her in silence as she finally wound down from her surprisingly long tirade. This was not what he had expected when he had asked what she’d been so preoccupied about. The silence stretched out for several seconds before he rolled his eyes and stood.

“Don’t you think about anything else?” he asked as he picked up his breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink, pointedly ignoring the fact that if bits of Tom Riddle were living in his head, the problem would be on his mind quite a lot too. Ginny glared at his back, but refrained from commenting as she watched him rinse his dishes and set them in the dishwasher with exaggerated care, as though if he did anything else he might throw the bowl against the wall. When he’d closed the door of the dishwasher, he turned to face her once more, his tone exasperated. “I told you, I’ll come up with something to take care of the snake, I’ve got a few ideas and as soon as I have something I think has a good chance of working, we’ll figure out the rest.”

He didn’t give her the chance to say anything else as he headed for the living room at the sound of the doorbell, brushing off the strange, almost injured, feeling in his stomach at the thought that she didn’t think he could handle his part of the arrangement.

She watched him leave the room in a huff, before standing and making her own way to the sink. Ginny knew he took the problem and their task seriously, but it wasn’t her fault if the idea of not having a plan yet made her feel distinctly nauseous. She couldn’t help feeling as though they were running out of time. Not only could Voldemort go further on the offensive at any moment, but the trio could only be controlled for so long. Harry, Hermione, and her brother could at any time figure out a way around the measures being used to keep them at the school, and the longer she was gone, the more likely it was they would start to question her absence.

They had been told she’d been moved ‘somewhere safe’ because she’d wanted to help as both a way to keep them from wondering where she was and as a subtle threat, implying that if they tried to go off on their own to ‘help’ that they could be placed ‘somewhere safe’ as well. Even so, if the trio felt they were being intentionally kept busy and out of the action at the school, there might be no stopping them from running off and getting themselves killed anyway. Ginny leaned back against the dishwasher as she put away her dishes and closed it back up, one freckled hand rising to rub at her aching temples. Her weariness turned abruptly to panic as the sound of a shout reached her from the front room.

The witch was halfway to the front door, her heart in her throat and her hand clenched tightly around her still transfigured wand before the sounds of several echoing shouts and accompanying laughter broke through her fear and slowed her pace. She was glad she had checked her all-out sprint before she reached her destination as it allowed her the time and room to watch Draco Malfoy, a large and distinct wet patch covering his jumper, lunge at Aaron with a hearty curse.

Ginny couldn’t suppress a laugh of her own as Blake and Carren jumped into the fray, the four of them tumbling to the porch yelling and laughing. She wasn’t quite sure what they were doing, even after they’d regained their feet and began chasing each other around the Tonks’ front lawn holding large brightly colored objects that were apparently designed to squirt large jets of water. She rolled her eyes at the teens’ antics as they continued to scream and laugh and douse one another with water. A halfhearted attempt was made intermittently to hide behind trees or bushes, but they all mostly seemed to be more interested in getting someone else wet than in keeping themselves dry.

As it was nearly March and hardly what one would call warm out, the redhead was firmly convinced they were all completely nutters. Yet where watching her brothers do such a thing would have caused her to merely shake her head in annoyance at the obvious stupidity of the actions, she found herself unaccountably amused by the shrieking boys running around like maniacs with no regard for their own health. The game was decidedly lighthearted and playful, two things she would never have associated with the blond she’d known at school.

That wasn’t to say that Draco Malfoy took the game lightly. He attacked his friends with a single-minded determination she recognized from the Quidditch pitch, but which lacked the aggression she was used to seeing from him. Much of how he acted, impatience and snide comments aside, lacked the familiar venom and self-possessed ego she was used to. The difference was perhaps more evident when he was interacting with the three Muggle teens he had befriended, if only because she’d never seen him smile and laugh and appear so comfortable with his pureblood housemates as he was with Aaron, Blake, and Carren. Even so, there were times that the foursome would have fit right in at the Slytherin table, as rich and snobby as they obviously were.

She took a moment to picture them in the great hall at Hogwarts, but was distracted by an earsplitting howl as Draco was ambushed by the other three, all at once, leaving the blond completely drenched. She could hear his enthusiastic curses from the doorway, but she could also see the smile fighting through his glare as the three ceased their attack and ran off in different directions in an attempt to escape retaliation. Where the Malfoy she remembered would have hexed anyone who attacked him, light heartedly or not, the Draco she was coming to know joined in the playful roughhousing without hesitation.

He had become surprisingly good at such things during his stay in the Muggle world, she thought when he took off in hot pursuit of the nearest boy, who happened to be a very unlucky Carren. He had not, however, become very good at utilizing common sense, the redhead decided several minutes later, when he refilled his weapon at the hose and then immediately went back to soaking and being soaked despite the light rainfall misting the yard and everyone in it. Ginny finally retreated back into the house with a shiver, leaving the boys to their cold, wet fate.

None of the combatants noticed the door close behind her. For his part, Draco was too focused on soaking Blake from his spot behind the corner of the house where his current victim couldn’t even see him, let alone hit him with a return blast. A second later, Aaron hit Blake from the other side while he was rubbing at the spot on his chest that Draco had hit. The sandy haired teen was felled like an elephant by the close range hit to the back of his head. The wizard’s grin froze on his face, though not from his dropping body temperature as his houseguest would have suspected had she been able to see him in that moment.

He had dismissed a gun as a realistic option for taking care of Nagini for some of the very reasons Ginny had been worrying about over breakfast. They couldn’t just kill the snake and then hope that Voldemort didn’t notice, or that they would have time to make sure the Horcrux was taken care of before the Death Eaters went after the Order. That was why he’d been trying to come up with a way that they could somehow incapacitate the snake, buying them time to transport it somewhere for the Horcrux to be destroyed. Hopefully without the snake or Voldemort realizing something had happened.

In the instant that Blake had hit the ground, however, a scene from some wildlife show he’d once watched on late night telly flashed before his grey eyes. What was it the annoying man narrating the show had said the vets used to put the large animal to sleep? Whatever it was had kept the animal knocked out long enough for them to look it over and give it other shots. It hadn’t stayed out for long, but that was only because they were being careful of its health. If that wasn’t top priority and if the subsequent shot contained something to keep the snake asleep, maybe…

Draco was jolted from his train of thought by a cold shock of water coming from Carren’s water gun and the blond raised his own, taking off in hot pursuit. He could figure out the specifics later, he had a good idea now of what to do, and at that moment, what he needed most was revenge. Carren never saw what hit him, and the normally polite young man let out a loud curse at the cold water Draco aimed at his back.

End Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen:

Ginny flipped the pancake over in the pan, making sure it was done on both sides before adding it to the stack on the serving plate beside the stove. She didn’t make a habit of cooking breakfast for both of them in the morning, but since she had felt like cooking this morning, she had gone ahead and made pancakes, a meal she knew they both enjoyed. Now if only the blond would come down to eat them. She was always the first one up, of course, but there wasn’t usually this long a gap between when she got up and when he made his way down, especially when she cooked something. Given how much he liked pancakes, she had expected him to be down as soon as the smell of them cooking had made its way upstairs. And yet here she stood, cooking up the last of the batter, and he still wasn’t up yet.

It wasn’t until she caught the sound of his footsteps descending the steps behind her that she finally felt the tension begin to leave her shoulders. After his friends had left late the day before, and he had headed upstairs to take a warm shower, he had thrown a comment over his shoulder that he wanted to talk to her in the morning about an idea he’d had regarding Nagini. Needless to say, only the fact that he went directly into the bathroom, and straight to bed afterwards, had kept her from pestering him about what he’d meant. Her patience was worn so thin, it was all she could do to keep from pouncing on him the moment he stepped into the kitchen.

Instead of attacking him with questions, she finished the last pancake while he sat rather heavily in his chair with a muted curse, then took the full plate to the table. When she did so, she took note of his head slumped over his arms on the table and rolled her eyes.

“Have enough fun yesterday, then, or do you want to take an ice bath today to top it all off?” The half annoyed, half amused tone of her voice turned reluctantly to one of concern when his only response was a soft groaning noise. “Draco?”

He finally raised his head a few seconds later and she couldn’t help wincing at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes. Even for someone with a very fair skin tone, he looked pale. Before she had a chance to ask how he was feeling, he sniffled and went to respond to her previous question only to let out a hacking cough that was accompanied by a rather ominous rumbling sound. She was around the table and placing a hand on his forehead before he had a chance to drop it back onto his arms.

“Well, you definitely have a fever,” she announced. He made a face at her words, but didn’t seem to have the energy to make an actual comment. Red strands danced briefly over her shoulders as she shook her head and wrapped an arm around his waist as he stood. He tried to step away from her, but only managed to stumble slightly, causing her to tighten her hold on him as she ushered him none too gently back up the stairs.

She was thankful that he hadn’t bothered changing out of his pajamas before breakfast as he usually did, allowing her to shepherd him into his room and to the edge of his bed where he half laid and half collapsed onto the mattress. She pulled the blanket up a little so it was more over than under him but refrained from actually tucking him in. Even so, he shot her a sickly sneer when she told him she’d bring him up something to eat. Adopting the brisk professionalism of a nurse, she ignored the expression and simply left the room to do exactly as she’d said, putting together a tray of toast and tea and returning to his room.

Most of his energy was used up by the rough hacking cough and chills that overtook him throughout the day but he did his best to tell her the toast was too dry, or the tea too cold, or the soup too bland each time she brought it to him. Still, the redhead’s patience held, as did her temper, even after having taken care of him for more than twenty-four hours. “I’m bored,” he paused to cough up what sounded like a third of his left lung. “Put something on the telly.”

She turned on the old television set Garald Tonks had brought into his room the night before when he’d come home from work and found the teen confined to his room. The Gryffindor silently flipped through the channels for him for a good five minutes until he found a show he wanted to watch. She even took it at face value when he protested that she would have to change the channels again during commercials and between shows when she went to leave the room. She waited until he was absorbed in the show before leaving to refill his tea and then returned and made herself comfortable with the remote once more.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was obviously sick, she’d have been tempted to think he was going out of his way to take up all her time and run her ragged. The exhaustion on his face when he woke himself up coughing only ten minutes after he had managed to drift off, and the pained expression when he coughed so hard he was doubled over and gasping for breath was more than enough to keep any such thoughts under control. It was also enough for her to bully him into the car during Coral’s lunch break the next day to get him to the doctor’s, where they received a prescription for antibiotics and cough syrup. The fact that they would help him improve more quickly and allow him to get some sleep was enough to give her the energy to force him to take both.

Draco never once thanked her for the constant care, and she couldn’t help wondering if he was a little annoyed that the syrup made it possible for him to stop coughing long enough to let out the occasional, muted chuckle at the biting and sarcastic comments she started making when they watched TV. The night after his appointment, she’d noticed that he would act like he wanted to say something during the sappy or serious points in the shows they were watching, but he didn’t seem to have the energy to do so. He’d let out a loud cough the first time she’d made fun of the girl’s heartfelt apology on the screen. Ginny pretended she didn’t hear the laugh it was disguising.

The redhead also pretended that she didn’t notice the annoyance on his face when, the next day, she started filling the time with stories of how she had helped find and destroy the previous horcruxes, what it had been like to grow up with six older brothers, and what had happened at the school after he had left with Snape. She certainly didn’t let on that she could tell when he eventually grew interested in her tales despite himself. It was a little difficult to act oblivious, however, when Coral interrupted her description of the last meeting she’d had with Moody and Dumbledore, when she’d learned that she would be going to see him to ask for his help with the last horcrux. He very nearly looked as if he would insist she stay to finish when she stood to meet the older woman in the hallway outside his door.

The Slytherin ground his teeth as she stepped out of the door, closing it most of the way behind herself. He was bored, there was nothing good on TV and having her blather on, no matter the topic, made the hours pass a little faster. Besides, what she’d been talking about did relate to their task, so really it was information he needed to know anyway, they might as well take advantage of him being stuck in bed to get it all over with at once. If he’d been well enough to do what he wanted, he would never have been able to force himself to listen to her prattle on for so long about things he didn’t care about. This was important, so it was okay for him to want to hear it. Completely understandable for him to not want such necessary information as the look on Moody’s face when he admitted they needed his help to be interrupted.

Just when he was about to call the redhead back into the room to get back to what she was supposed to be doing, Draco became aware of the voices drifting easily through the partially open doorway.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over for the rest of the evening, dear, you look a mite worn down, and you haven’t been getting enough sleep. If you’re not careful you’ll end up sick too, and then where would you be, needing to take care of the both of you?”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Tonks, I’m doing fine…” there was silence for a moment before she continued, as though she were responding to something he couldn’t hear or see. “I’m a little tired, yes, but I’m perfectly all right. Besides, he’s a good patient, I can handle it. You’ve been working all day and should relax, spend some time with Mr. Tonks.”

Another pause, then it was Coral who broke the silence. “If you’re quite sure, dear. But only if you promise to take some time for yourself before bed.”

His jaw was still clenched when she made her way back to the chair beside his bed, but his hands were not fidgeting with a button of his pajama top as he thought about what he’d heard. And even if they were, they were under the blanket so they wouldn’t show anyway. Still, though he wasn’t the least bit bothered with the idea that she hadn’t slept because she’d gotten up several times each night to restack the pillows so he could lay down and still breathe, and then spent all day watching TV with him, and making his meals, and carrying them up to him, and taking down his dishes, and keeping his room clean despite the piles of used tissues that started to cover the nightstand and floors around his bed.

He didn’t mind the thought of her having kept track of his medications and fought with him every time they were due until he finally swallowed them down. She was a Gryffindor and they liked being self sacrificing. She probably enjoyed being needed. Not that he really needed her. In fact, her ever present company was starting to grate on his nerves, and since he was fully capable of taking care of himself, he gruffly told her that she could go bug someone else for a while. She gave no reaction to his generous offer, instead making herself comfortable and picking back up where she left off in her story once she’d checked to make sure that nothing was on that he liked to watch.

Draco merely huffed at her stubbornness, figuring if she was intent on staying, there was no point in wasting energy by arguing with her about it. His strategy seemed to have proven a good one the next day, when he woke from a surprisingly long nap around mid afternoon to find that his chest no longer rattled or wheezed much at all when he breathed, and he could take a fairly deep breath without coughing. The blond even found the energy, obviously saved up from giving the Gryffindor her way, to go get himself a snack.

He only made it as far as the bottom of the stairs when he heard the coughing. Curiosity led him to the front room and the redheaded form sprawled out on the couch, coughing in her sleep. He stood watching her for a moment before he inched forward and gave her leg a rough nudge.

“Hey, Weasley, wake up.” She did so slowly, her brown eyes watery and red rimmed when they met his. “Go up to your room, you’re getting germs all over the couch.”

It was true, he thought as she slowly made her way to her feet with a tired glare, and he was sick of watching TV in his room, planning to enjoy the larger one in the front room which he couldn’t very well do if she was in the way. And it only made sense to expedite her relocation by taking her arm and leading her wavering steps to her room. To save himself a trip when she figured out she was thirsty later, he brought her a mug of hot tea before making his way back downstairs. If he didn’t close her door all the way behind himself so that any plea for help would later reach him, it was simply because he forgot.

When such a plea did drift down the stairs a few hours later, it was with a grunt and a curled lip that he checked on her and then fetched the phone for her to call the doctor’s office and order some antibiotics for herself. He was saving himself a walk to the chemist when he brought her the extra bottle of cough syrup he had left and called Coral to ask her to pick up the prescription on her way home. Still, it was a few hours before the woman arrived home from work, antibiotics in hand.

He nodded at the sight, ignoring the curious look on his relative’s face when he reached out to take the bag from her. “The sooner she starts taking them, the sooner she will get better and stop complaining all day long.”

Coral’s brows rose at the grumbled declaration. “I’m sorry, dear, is she quite sick, should I stay here tomorrow and take care of her?”

Draco only rolled his eyes. “Then who will pay for the crisps?” he asked as he turned and headed for the stairs with a beleaguered sigh. Coral waited until he’d disappeared before smiling, and neither of her houseguests heard her soft laugh as her husband came in and asked after them.

“If I get sick again, I am holding you completely responsible,” the Slytherin told her when he reached her room and tossed her pills on the desk by her pull-out sofa. She fought a laugh at the look on his face as much because it would make her cough as because he’d probably take it as an insult and leave. No wonder he was always coming up with some reason for her to be around. Laying around only half able to breathe and not able to sleep was boring and miserable. If he were sneering or talking at least it gave her something else to focus on than how badly she felt.

Trying to show that she appreciated him bringing the medication, she pushed herself up a little and choked down the pills, absently listening for some clue as to what Coral was doing. Obviously, since her medication was there, so was the older woman, but surely she would have brought them up herself if she wasn’t too busy. She’d fully expected to have no one but Coral for company for the rest of the evening, with Garald maybe popping in for a minute here and there, so it was surprising to see the blond standing at her bedside. That train of thought was too much for her to maintain, however, as she instead focused on setting the glass of water back down and resituating herself with a weary groan.

“Ugh. I should have had the doctor include something to put me in a coma,” she said, thinking of a medical drama she had watched with Draco the day before, “then I wouldn’t know how bad I feel."

With her eyes closed in exhaustion, she missed the sudden widening of his grey orbs, thinking nothing out of the ordinary when she heard him leave the room seconds later. Even if she had taken note of his reaction or abrupt exit and commented on it, Draco would hardly have notice or cared, his entire focus on the idea forming in his mind. During the water fight, he had thought of using a tranquilizer gun on Nagini to put it out before transport, but he’d not come up with how to keep the snake out of it long enough to take care of the horcrux without risking killing it prematurely. He hadn’t had the energy to talk to the redhead about it while he was sick, or even to think about the problem, but now, well, what she had said had started the wheels moving once more, and they were circling rapidly.

He spent the rest of the night, and much of the next day ensconced at the computer, researching drugs that could tranquilize large animals, and induce comas in full grown humans, which he figured would almost match Nagini’s weight. He took several breaks to sleep and eat. He checked on Ginny on the way to or from his room, after all, hers was right next door so he might as well poke his head through her door.

The surprised look on her face the next day, when he came in and set a plate of toast and soup on her desk on the way to his room, caused him to roll his eyes. “I just had some myself, you might as well take the rest so I don’t have to store it for later.”

Ginny just nodded. “Of course, but thanks anyway.”

He thought about telling her what he had found out regarding the drugs, but as important as it was to get things worked out right away, he knew she’d immediately want to work on it herself too, and she really should be resting. The sooner she got better, the sooner they could get back to training, and he had an expert lined up to teach them to use the tranquilizer guns he’d just finished ordering from an online vet supply. So instead of hanging around while she ate, he took the time to call and chat with Aaron about a new motorbike he was thinking of buying. On his way downstairs after the conversation, however, he found himself rather bored, so he stopped in her room and turned on the small TV Garald had transferred from his room that morning before he went to work.

Before she could ask what he was doing, he waved casually at the game now filling the screen. “I can’t believe you’ve been here this long and still haven’t taken the time to learn about football.”

Ginny looked between him and the television with a questioning look on her face. While she had thought the game Draco and his friends found so much fun to watch appeared interesting, she’d never understood enough about it to get into watching the sport. She started to tell him just that, but he was already speaking, and though he was sitting a good distance from her, on the other side of the desk, she caught every word, and was soon absorbed in his explanations.

“Now that chap there, his job is to…”

By the end of the game, they were both gesturing at the screen, his voice far above her scratchy sick tone as he yelled at the referee’s latest call. They were both somewhat startled when Garald came in with two plates of chicken and rice and as he was already sitting, and the food was right there, Draco decided to just stay where he was while he ate. The witch didn’t seem to mind, and as she ate, she did her best to tiredly engage him in conversation. Long after their meals were finished, the two continued to talk.

Remembering that when she had talked to him while he was sick, she had implied that she would like to hear what had been happening for him since he’d left the school and that even after he had started to feel better, he had been too sick to tell his private business. Now that he thought about it though, they were partners in this task, and an equal exchange of information would probably be good for team moral, so he told her a bit about his flight from the school, and how Dumbledore had set him up with the Tonkses. He hadn’t gotten very far into his description of his successes adjusting to the Muggle world when he realized that the reason she had been listening so quietly the past few minutes was because she had fallen asleep.

Heaving out an aggravated sigh at the rudeness of his audience, he gathered up their dishes and made his way down to the kitchen. The last thing on his mind at that moment of course, was the fact that he was currently adjusting to something else now too.

End Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty:

He was on the phone when she made her way into the room, still moving slowly after several days in bed. She hadn’t been sick as long as he had, though, for which she was thankful. And if she was honest, the experience hadn’t been as unpleasant as it could have been, for which any thanks she felt needed to be directed at the blond currently sitting on the couch on the other side of the room. Not that she didn’t want to be thankful to him, he’d done quite a bit to help her out when he hadn’t really had to.

He could have handed her over to Coral who would have been more than willing to see to her needs while she was sick. But he hadn’t, although he hadn’t seemed thrilled with the idea, he’d checked on her every few hours, brought her medicine and tea and soup. He’d even spent time with her just talking or watching TV. No, she could readily and willingly admit she was grateful to the teen she had been living with for the past few months, it was just strange to equate that same person with the Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts. Or at least it really should be, but somehow the Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts was starting to blur in her mind, having been slowly replaced by the Draco at the Tonks’ house. It had just happened so gradually that it wasn’t until the mental revisions had picked up their pace while she’d been ill that she found herself surprised by the results.

Shaking her head at the thought, the young witch forced herself to focus on what he was so absorbed in as she made her way across the room. It took a second for the blond’s words to register, but when they did it was clear exactly what he was talking about. More lessons. Ginny lowered her still slightly achy body to the couch beside him and suppressed a groan at the idea of jumping back into preparations that were, based on the lessons she had already endured, sure to be challenging, most likely painful, and definitely exhausting. Not to mention long. Very long.

Draco looked up absently as she sighed at the thought, acknowledging her presence with a nod as he wrapped up his conversation. She waited for him to hang up the phone, but didn’t give him time to start speaking, knowing by the businesslike expression on his face that as soon as he opened his mouth, their conversation would be completely consumed by planning and strategy. As much as she felt the distinct urgency to get back to work, she also felt a need to say this.

“Draco, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done the last few days. You might actually have a future as a nurse after this is all over,” she joked, trying to let him know how much of a help he had been without annoying him with what he would see as being sappy.

He had frowned at her in confusion when she’d started speaking, but as soon as her meaning became clear, he turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. The blond shifted in his seat, not meeting her eyes and instead maintaining strict focus on his notes, though he acted as if he would respond before shutting his mouth with a clack as she went on.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have gotten better as quickly without your help.”

Draco took quick advantage of the opening, speaking somewhat more hurriedly than necessary with his clipped reply. “Good. We can’t afford to lose any more time.”

Ginny nodded in agreement, too busy trying to decide if the redness in his cheeks could possibly be a blush to really respond. Past experience with the blond, including the months at the Tonks’ left her nearly unable to believe the sight. And yet, as he shuffled the papers rather purposefully, she was almost positive that the young wizard was indeed blushing. She blinked several times as she tried to process it, but before she’d completely managed to, she found herself having to shift mental gears to catch up with what he was saying as he promptly began detailing his idea and the research he had been doing on it.

“...If Nagini’s in a coma, not only will she stay unconscious and manageable for however long we need to work out how to destroy the Horcrux within her, but she should appear to just be asleep to the Dark Lord if he does try to check on her through their bond.”

The redhead regarded him with a furrowed brow for only a moment as she thought through everything that he had said so far. The idea of putting Voldemort’s pet into a coma was an answer to all of the problems they had come up with so far in regards to dealing with this part of their task and Ginny couldn’t hold back a quiet sigh of relief at one more obstacle overcome. Knowing that what they needed to accomplish was actually possible within the constraints of Muggle technology was a serious boost to her flagging confidence, even as her partner continued with a more cautious tone.

“The tricky part is going to be delivering the drugs to induce the coma without Nagini or Voldemort realizing that something is happening. The tranquilizer gun will give us enough distance to stay hidden from the snake, but we will still have to hit her in a location that she won’t be able to see the dart in the time it takes for the tranquilizers to knock her out.”

A slight frown formed on her face as the young witch took in his words. For his part, Draco absently leafed through a few of the papers he was holding as he spoke, then pulled one out and laid it on the table in front of him. Ginny sat next to him on the couch and leaned over to see what he was studying so intently. The pictures on the sheet showed several different views of a large snake that appeared to be the same type as Nagini. She wasn’t even aware she was shivering until a mug of hot tea was shoved gently into her hands.

“Don’t go getting sick again, we don’t have the time.” The subtle concern in his quiet words and the look in his grey eyes when they met hers for a few long seconds took the sting out of his otherwise caustic statement and made it clear that despite his words, Draco had no misconceptions about what had caused her reaction. Neither mentioned it, however, the witch simply taking a sip of his tea with a nod before resolutely turning her attention back to the page.

“If we hit her right here,” the blond stated, pointing at a spot behind the snake’s head on the picture, “no amount of twisting should allow her to see the dart.”

Ginny nodded, still studying the picture. “That’s a pretty small area to hit, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I’ve set up some lessons for us both with standard rifles and the tranquilizer gun we will be using. Carren has a friend that was in the Australian special forces who was able to get a former sniper he knows to train us. By the time he’s done with us, Nagini won’t know what hit her. Literally.”

“How long does the drug take to work?”

“The tranquilizer will kick in within a few minutes and will last more than long enough for us to administer the coma drugs, but we’ll have to be careful about the dosage. Too little and she could wake up or remain aware enough for Voldemort to get some idea what is going on. Too much and she could die and Voldemort could realize what we’re doing and be ready for the Order, go on the offensive before the Horcrux is dealt with and the Order is able to attack, or even send Death Eaters in to kill us before we can get out with the snake.”

The witch and wizard exchanged concerned but determined glances in silence before he shuffled through the papers once again to pull out a pair of sheets covered with various charts and graphs.

“The dosages of both sets of drugs are determined by weight,” he explained, giving her one piece of paper, “the weight of a snake like Nagini is estimated based on these factors,” he continued as he handed her the other piece. “I could try to make a guess, but-”

“-I have first hand memories of Nagini that give me a much better idea of what she weighs and therefore how much to give her. At least once I figure all this out,” Ginny finished with a resigned expression as she skimmed over the detailed and rather confusing data. “Well, I guess I know what I’ll be doing for the next day or two. How soon do we have to know how much of the drugs we’ll need?”

Draco waved his hand absently. “I estimated the amounts based on your description and the largest known snakes of her type, then rounded up quite a bit when I ordered everything. We’ll have more than we’ll need, we just have to know how much to bring with us when we go. You’ve got some time to figure it out,” he assured her.

He could see her shoulders rise and fall as if she’d taken and released a large breath before she raised her eyes from the papers. “Good, this is going to take a while to wrap my head around and we can’t afford for my calculations to be off, like you said.”

“No we can’t.”

Ginny took another breath. His words were certainly not the most comforting or reassuring, but they were true and she knew ignoring that in favor of her feelings may well mean disaster for them, and for the Order as a whole. And really, when it came down to it, knowing that her partner would be honest with her about what was going on and what needed to be done, especially in regards to the Muggle methods which she knew so little about, was actually comforting in and of itself. Still, it stung a little. Then she met his gaze and noticed the hint of a smile he wore and the sting went away, along with her doubts. She could do this. It might take a little time and some hard work on her part, but she could figure it out. She had learned how to jump out of a plan, after all, she could learn this too.

The redhead set the papers aside with a barely perceptible sigh, focusing on all the things she had learned since she had moved in with the Tonks’, things she had never imagined existed until Draco had shown her. Not the least of which was that Draco Malfoy was a dependable, even at times likable, person to work with. He was organized, thorough, and almost disturbingly creative with coming up with ways for them to get around the anti-magic wards. Ginny shook her head, keeping herself from dwelling on the scariest of his ideas for them. He said it would work, that they could do it and he hadn’t been wrong yet, so she would trust him. He had trusted everything she had told him from her second-hand memories without any real concrete reason to do so, yet she had questioned him more than once. It was time for her to start giving him the same trust he’d shown her.

She waited a few seconds after making the decision, almost expecting herself to regret it or feel some lingering doubts or discomfort. Several heartbeats passed and nothing happened, no heavy feeling in her gut, no niggling voice in the back of her mind reminding her what had happened the last time she had trusted a handsome young Slytherin wizard. In that moment her heartbeat stuttered in her chest, not because of any intruding fears, but because of the sudden appearance of another emotion altogether. Handsome? The word echoed in her mind, since when had Draco Malfoy been handsome?

Ok, so he’d never been unattractive, it had really only been his trademark sneer and sour disposition which had kept him from being attractive to her. Since she’d started staying with him at the Tonks’ however, those factors had stopped effecting her view of him both mentally, and apparently physically. Ginny’s mind spun at the realization that she had been attracted to him for some time now and not even truly realized it. Or at least not acknowledged it. But now she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She was okay with trusting him, even with her life, surely accepting the fact that she was physically attracted to him shouldn’t be that hard to do.

The problem, she found as she struggled to tune back in to what the blond was telling her about the equipment he had ordered them, was the thoughts that accompanied the idea of her attraction. Namely, the idea that his physical appearance wasn’t the only thing that was attractive to her. Images began to flash through her mind’s eye of her time at the Tonks’ house. Draco showing her how to operate the television with a slight scowl, Draco grudgingly helping her to purchase a Muggle jacket when she realized she couldn’t use her cloak, Draco shooting her a grin as they landed simultaneously at the bottom of the faux rock wall and then seeming surprised with himself for doing so, Draco listening to her talk about her diary induced nightmares and patting her hand awkwardly in comfort. She saw him playing happily with his Muggle friends, saw him laying sick in bed and thanking her quietly when he thought she’d left the room with his dirty soup bowl, she saw him sitting at her sick bed explaining football to her without prompting or complaint when he could have been out with his friends, having heard Aaron and the others call him more than once to get together during her illness.

She felt a moment of confusion as his words began to register amidst her spinning thoughts, the witch starting to panic for a moment as he mentioned Carren’s phone call. Had she spoken out loud? No, she realized with a long mental sigh, he was talking about Carren’s arrangements on their behalf for weapons training and marksmanship classes.

“What time will we be going to the first lesson?” she asked in an attempt to look as though she hadn’t spent the last ten minutes lost in her thoughts instead of listening to the training schedule he and the others had put together for them.

Draco paused in his run down of the difference between the rifles and tranquilizer guns they would be learning to use, thankfully not looking surprised or annoyed by her sudden question. “Carren should be here in about an hour to take us over and introduce us to our instructor,” the blond answered with a quick glance at his watch.

Ginny nodded and took the opportunity to redirect her thoughts. “We should probably have something to eat before we go, then.”

She stood and made her way into the kitchen as soon as he started to nod in response, busying herself getting things out of the fridge while he set out dishes and silver wear. It didn’t take long for a simple breakfast to be thrown together and soon they were both seated at the small table, enjoying their meal in a companionable silence that the redhead half expected to turn uncomfortable in light of her recent thoughts. To her surprise, nothing of the sort happened, as before she had a chance to become overly conscious of the blond across from her, he had drawn her into an easy conversation about the football game they had watched together while she was sick. They talked and argued good-naturedly about the teams in between bites and even continued to do so when the doorbell interrupted them.

The witch shook her head as Draco called out a laughing rebuttal to her comment about the Manchester goalie while heading into the living room to let his friend into the house. She laughed herself as she gathered the dirty dishes, figuring that the two would settle in on the coach and chat for a few minutes before they left. To her mild surprise however, both came back to the kitchen, the short-haired young man giving her a polite nod and sitting at the table while the wizard joined her at the sink.

Carren took the cup of coffee the pretty redhead offered with a mock scowl at Draco, preparing to bring up a game on his cell phone to wait for the two to finish getting ready to go. He’d barely started the application when he realized that there was a much more entertaining show that was playing out in front of him. It had been almost two weeks since he had last been to the Tonks’ house, he and the others having stayed away while first the blond and then the redhead had recovered from their illness. In that time, it seemed as though something had changed. While the two housemates had gotten along quite well since shortly after she had come to stay at Coral and Garald’s, the interaction he was witnessing now was something else all together.

While he hadn’t expected his friend to lead him to the kitchen on his arrival, he’d taken his off-hand comment of cleaning up as explanation enough, but as the two worked together to tidy the kitchen the teenager began to wonder. It had been suggested more than once between Aaron, Blake, and himself that Draco might have a passing fancy for Ginny, but it had always been said half jokingly. Now it seemed it might be time to say it in full seriousness.

Quite a bit of seriousness indeed, the teen dare-devil noted as he continued to watch. The blond took the dishes from her hand with more concentration than the task warranted, seeming overly concerned with making sure that their hands didn’t touch in the process and keeping his gaze fixed decidedly elsewhere on the one instance that their fingers brushed. It was a shame, Carren noted, as he might have seen the slight blush that pinked her cheeks at the contact if he had only been looking in her direction.

It was all the short haired you man could do to keep from laughing at the covert looks the housemates shot each other when the other was occupied elsewhere. As it was, by the time the dishes had been rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, the table wiped and the lingering ingredients placed back in the fridge, a small knowing smile twisted his lips. The expression drew a questioning look from Ginny and a confused scowl from Draco as they all headed out. Carren simply shook his head and straightened his face with no small effort, thinking that for being sick in bed for most of the time, his friend seemed to have come out of the water fight significantly better off then he had.

End Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One:

The light of the television flickered but she had a hard time actually making out the image on the screen. Ginny found herself rubbing at her eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes in an effort to bring the screen into focus.

“Eyes bothering you?”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, her brain taking another second or two to catch up to what he said. “I think I squinted and focused them so much this week that I was beginning to think they’d fall out of my head.”

Draco nodded silently, though his expression looked like he wanted to laugh and just didn’t have the energy to do so. For all that this last set of lessons was nowhere near as physically demanding as the others they’d experienced since her arrival, the mental focus required had been just as draining. The fact that the completion of their marksmanship training signaled the near end of their mission preparations remained a palpable weight in the air around them. It felt almost like they had just gotten started, like she had arrived only the day before to ask for his help and that it was entirely too soon to be thinking about putting all their training to work in obtaining the final Horcrux. At the same time, they were both more than aware of how vital it was to complete their mission as soon as possible. If Voldemort and the Death Eaters truly went on the offensive while the Dark Lord still had the protection of even a single Horcrux, it could all be over.

Even having been completely aware of this from the start, the teens had left unsaid the feeling that their mission might prove impossible. It was strange to think that they had found a way around the anti-magic wards surrounding Nagini’s hiding place; that they were finally in a position to go after the snake. It was something else altogether to acknowledge that there could very well be some trap or obstacle awaiting them at the cave that they had no idea about. Still, they had come so far, and had in fact come to the end of what they could do to prepare themselves based on what they knew.

It was now time to do what they had been sent here to do in the first place, what they had been preparing for: sneaking into Voldemort’s most important safe house and stealing the Dark Lord’s pet and the last external piece of his soiled soul. Everything else in the Order’s long term plans hinged on this, on them. It was more responsibility and danger than either had faced before, but in all the time they had been working together, neither had spoken about it except in the abstract. The air became heavier and heavier in the tastefully decorated living room until their lungs burned as much as their eyes and they both felt the sudden need to speak.

“Can you believe-”

“What do you think-”

They looked at each other with a weary laugh for a moment before Draco shook his head and gestured for her to continue. She smiled faintly and found that now that she had time to think about what she was going to say that she had to swallow and pause before she could make the words come out.

“It doesn’t feel real, does it? That we’re almost done, I mean. I keep trying to imagine what it will be like to have this all over with, to not have to think and plan and worry about it every day. To not have to wonder what’s going to happen, or if I’ll survive it all.”

A strange cold sensation developed in the pit of his stomach at her words. The blond couldn’t quite ignore the sudden intense urge to lock her into her small room upstairs and leave her there for the rest of their mission. He did his best to brush aside the odd feelings but from the curious and slightly concerned look on her face, he was pretty sure he hadn’t hidden it all as well as he’d hoped.

Ginny had to bite off the question on the tip of her tongue at the unsettling lack of expression on her partner’s face. She’d caught him giving her an unusual look every once in a while since they’d first started weapons training. This was the first time however, that he had looked so utterly blank and more than confusing her, she felt a surge of inarguable concern. She wanted so badly to reach out to him, to ask him what he was thinking about, to make sure he was okay. And yet having gotten to know him as she had during their partnership, she knew he was a very private individual and only got angry and defensive if asked for personal information he hadn’t volunteered. Because of this, and the small niggling fear of what he would say if she asked, she looked pointedly away and let him decide what to say or not say.

The blond took the opportunity to shove aside the disconcerting feelings and redirect the conversation. Unfortunately, he was too focused on taking the conversation in the opposite direction and didn’t take the time to think about what he was saying before he actually asked the question.

“What are you going to do after we’re done?”

He felt himself stiffen before the words even finished leaving his mouth. The idea of his stay at the Tonks’ being over, of not seeing his friends, or watching TV, or racing a sports car left him feeling distinctly unbalanced. Before he had a chance to find his footing again, she knocked him metaphorically off his feet with her answer.

“I’m going to go back to school, I think. What about you? You can finally go back to your life again, are you going to manage the family estates or something?”

The words ‘your life’ echoed in his head for several seconds and he nearly blurted out that he had a life now more so than he ever had before. He managed to gain control of himself just in time and instead shifted things back in her direction. “How are you going to go to school? Haven’t you missed most of sixth year by now?”

Ginny bit her lip to keep from repeating her question, knowing that he was dodging it for a reason and deciding once again to let him keep whatever was bothering him to himself. “I’ve missed a lot, but Dumbledore said he would get me a tutor to help me catch up over the summer so I can take seventh year with the rest of my class. And Ron and Harry and Hermione, of course, since they’ve been spending all their time getting ready and training with Moody and Tonks.” For the first time since they had started talking, she felt herself getting genuinely excited as she continued. “You should come back too. I’m sure the Headmaster would get you a tutor as well and then we could all finish up. That way, if you don’t take over the estates, you’ll have some other options too.”

The wizard didn’t miss her not so subtle attempt to get him to tell her something more of his plans, but as he had no idea what those plans were going to be, he ignored her yet again and only responded with a non-committal noise and a less than subtle comment of his own. “My arms are a little sore from holding that rifle so long but I think I can manage to lift the phone, how about some pizza tonight?”

The redhead sent him a light-hearted glare but her upswing in mood at the thought of her housemate possibly joining her at Hogwarts withstood his blatant evasion and she couldn’t make the expression anything but friendly. “Sure, that sounds good.”

Draco nodded and went to get the phone, but as he was ordering their dinner he found her mood becoming somewhat contagious. A smile threatened to break out on his face and he wasn’t sure if it had more to do with the grin the witch shot him as she began to search through the channels for something to watch or the thought she had conjured with her suggestion. Could he go back to Hogwarts, and would he even want to? It wasn’t something that he had given a lot - if any - thought to since he had decided to stop biding his time and get on with his life at the Tonks’. He wasn’t sure how returning to school would go for him. He had spent too much time in the Muggle world to really feel comfortable in Slytherin House anymore. And the thought of hanging out with any spineless Hufflepuffs or nerdy Ravenclaws, let alone any brainless Gryffindors was more than he could stomach.

His eyes drifted over to the witch sitting on the couch as he hung up the phone and situated himself in an armchair. It was because they had been through so much together, having already experienced things that even most Muggleborns wouldn’t know about let alone have done. It was only the fact that they were participating in something their classmates, maybe even their professors, wouldn’t understand. Yes, that was the only reason he could see himself easily spending his time with her back at Hogwarts. She smiled at him again as she found an episode of Top Gear for them to watch.

He felt the smile threaten again and let a bit of it escape as he locked his eyes on the screen and tried to make his mind focus on the car being discussed. She was pretty, that’s what kept making him want to smile when she looked at him tonight. And for the last week or so if he was honest with himself. And he was, there was no reason not to be. She was pretty, it was a fact. He was male, he had eyes, he’d noticed her looks long before he had admitted it to his friends a few days before. Aaron, Blake and Carren had been more than vocal about their opinion of her looks since Ginny had arrived at the Tonks’ so he knew he wasn’t alone. Though why they had to harp on it so much all the time he didn’t understand and was quite frankly a bit annoyed with at this point.

The fact was, she was pretty so any smirk or smile that might find itself on his face as a result of her similar expression was perfectly understandable. Their having developed so much in common over her stay in the Muggle world and the mutual understanding and camaraderie that had grown between them was completely unrelated. That he could, with the right amount of pressure and trick questions, have possibly admitted to his friends the day before that he liked her as a person and that he sometimes enjoyed her company didn’t mean anything at all. It certainly didn’t have any bearing on his opinion of her looks. Or rather, his opinion of her looks didn’t have any bearing on his enjoying her company. He was sure of it, no matter what Carren implied.

End Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two:

She hadn’t slept more than five hours the night before, and even those had been broken up by several dreams that had left her feeling cold and out of breath even though she couldn’t remember any piece of them. That fact that she couldn’t remember was both comforting and terrifying. The redhead was sure, given how she had woken from each dream, that she didn’t want to know what she had seen in her mind in those slumbering moments, but at the same time she was afraid that they had been surfacing memories from the diary that they would need to get out of this alive. Maybe they should have waited for more than the two days it had taken for them to iron out the logistics and get everything set up after the last of their lessons ended. Maybe, but as Ginny’s eyes met Draco’s over the improvised seats of the empty aircraft, she knew it was too late to turn back. They were on their way to the cave and they would either be back on the plane with a giant venomous snake or they would most likely never see the airplane, or anyone else, ever again.

With that cheerful thought, the witch felt her heart drop several meters towards her feet and decided to concentrate on something, anything, else. The pile of gear in front of her offered the best option and she began to shift it around pointlessly until Draco received a signal from the pilot and began going through his own gear. His actions were much more focused than hers had been however, as he started putting it on. She began to do the same with a deep breath and before she knew it, they were both fully suited up and ready to go. In the moments it took the door to open and them to make their way towards it, the redhead couldn’t help noting that even with as many times as they had practiced with more weight than they were currently wearing, right now it felt heavier than it ever had. Of course, maybe it was just her stomach that felt so heavy, she conceded as it knotted up inside her.

For his part, Draco didn’t notice any change in the weight of his gear, real or imagined, but his heart rate was a different story. As steady as he had felt up to this point, he couldn’t deny that his heart began to hammer in his chest as they reached the open door of the plane. The wizard almost asked the pilot to circle once around the area but he knew that it would be more to give his heart time to slow than to afford them any extra recon so he shoved the urge aside and instead shifted his gaze from the open door to the brown eyes of the witch beside him. She didn’t have to say anything for him to know that her nerves were starting to get the best of her too.

Ginny struggled to keep the knot of her stomach from dropping all the way into her heels as she maneuvered against the force of the rushing wind to get into position. One hand had a death grip on a storage tie attached to the wall of the plane by the door, the redhead not sure how she was going to be able to force herself to pry it free when it came time. She didn’t get the chance to really contemplate that however, when her gaze met Draco’s an instant later and she knew that the wait was over. It was time to go. The second that they held each other’s gaze felt almost endless. Even so, it took no more than a slow heartbeat after the pilot switched on the light above the door to signal they were over the correct coordinates for Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley to exchange a single decisive nod, step up to the door and jump, one after the other.

It was as if the wind rushing past her face wiped her mind completely clear, not a single discernible thought passing through her head on the way down. One minute she was jumping from an airplane higher above the ground than she had once thought it possible to be even with a broom, and the next she was feeling the jolt of her landing in every joint and finding her feet running to a stop on a barren field of brown grass. The fact that she couldn’t even remember having pulled the cord on her chute threatened to give her a moment of panic, but the redhead focused on searching out her partner before it had a chance.

She found him quickly, already wrapping up his chute only a few yards to her left and she hurried to get her own together and off. By the time they had both removed the heavy parachute, the blond was indicating a large group of scrub brush in which they could stash the landing gear. Ginny nodded again wordlessly. Although they had never specifically agreed to it, neither had spoken a word to each other since they had boarded the plane and she wasn’t sure she was comfortable breaking the silence.

Draco wasn’t bothered by that in the least instead feeling almost as if it would suddenly broadcast their position like a distress beacon if they spoke aloud. It was a ridiculous idea, but going along with it afforded him some degree of calm so he went with it and after checking the compass and GPS unit on his wrist, gestured in the direction of the caves. Ginny fell into step beside him, mentally reviewing all the charts and maps they had poured over during their preparations, assuring herself that they had the right coordinates. Even so, she found herself letting out a breath of relief when they spotted the cave about ten minutes later.

The blond felt the corners of his mouth tilt up just the slightest amount at the sound of her sigh, the expression seeming to push away the numbing sensation that had, up to that point, covered him from head to toe. It was as if a tinge of color bled back into a world which had been turning grey around him over the last few hours. He fought to keep the change from distracting him as he and Ginny slowed their steps before they reached the edge of the cave shaft. The last few dozen meters they crossed to their destination were some of the most nerve wracking moments of his life, his shoulders tensed in expectation of some kind of alarm or defensive spell striking them down. He knew, intellectually, that any magic would have interacted with the anti-magic wards in a negative way, unbalancing one or the other and so would not have been used this close to the cave entrance but he couldn’t completely suppress the fear.

Either she could see his apprehension on his face, or she was preoccupied with her own fears, because Ginny stood motionless, staring at the shaft for several seconds before she seemed to shake herself and kneel close to the edge to begin pulling her equipment out of her bag. The movement jarred him from his own thoughts and it was barely a second after she had unzipped her pack that he was on his knees doing the same. Both worked on autopilot, their movements smooth from innumerable practices as they set up the three battery powered winches, making sure they were securely anchored in the ground and to a large boulder nearby. The silence hung between them for the duration of the process until they had both connected the end of the winch lines to their repelling harnesses.

The partners were standing on the edge, leaning back, and about to take the step back needed to begin their descent when suddenly her left hand shot out to grab hold of his right. Steel grey eyes snapped to hers, a question clear in them, but though she finally broke the silence, she kept her explanation short and her voice quiet.

“For the wards.”

Her words seemed to echo between them for a moment before he nodded and returned his gaze to the space in front of him, open air that would soon be the rock face of the shaft. Brown eyes shifted in the same direction as they each took a deep breath, and with a tight squeeze of their joined hands, stepped back and began to make their way straight down into the cave. They hadn’t gone more than a few steps before a strange breeze chilled their backs. He was almost sure that she could feel his heart pounding through her grip on his hand at the feeling when he glanced over and noticed that the breeze, though strong enough to feel, didn’t shift a single of the red strands swinging in the air behind her.

He knew she had noticed the same irregularity when her nails actually began to dig into his skin. Ginny didn’t seem to notice her reaction, focusing instead on maintaining a steady and even pace as they repelled further and further into the dim shaft until their feet hit the ground exactly at the same time. Draco felt the unexpected urge to smile at her in either relief or celebration of their small but notable success, but she beat him to it, shooting him a tight but genuine smile. He rolled his eyes at her expression, giving in and smiling himself when she responded with a mock glare.

“Come on,” he said in a whisper, unhooking himself from his winch line and the line from the spare winch while she detached herself from her own. Before they turned to make their way down the tunnel deeper into the cave, he caught her giving a worried look to the spare line, which hopefully would soon be connected to a sack carrying a comatose Nagini. He’d felt a similar concern when he’d attached the line to his harness and without further thought he reached out and took ahold of her hand once more. “For the wards,” he stated softly with a weak grin.

Ginny’s expression lightened slightly at his blatant lie and she walked along at his side without hesitation, the two continuing on at a cautious but steady pace for an unknown amount of time. It felt to the witch and wizard as if their hike through the tunnel dragged on for nearly half an hour before they reached a sudden and unexpected maze of tunnels splitting off from the one they were in. The partners came to a halt at the sight, their breathing loud in the silence for several long moments until Draco spoke.

“What the bloody hell...” Grey met brown and she tensed as if he had slapped her at the almost accusatory tone.

“Well, it’s not like I see a friggin’ movie in my head, is it?” she snapped.

His eyes closed while he took a deep breath, then reopened to meet her gaze once more. “I know you don’t, okay. Let’s just take a sec here. Maybe if you look around you might remember something.”

Ginny nodded slowly, muttering a quiet ‘sorry’. The blond waved off her apology, knowing his own nerves had gotten the best of him too, but she had already started to turn slowly in a circle to look at each new tunnel in turn.

The minutes ticked by, her frustration growing more and more obvious until she grabbed at her hair with a silent scream. She closed her eyes, picturing every memory she had of the cave. She could see the shaft, the first tunnel, even the larger chamber that held Nagini clearly, but she couldn’t see any other tunnels, certainly not the maze of tunnels now facing them. With another deep breath she opened her eyes and made a final turn, staring hard at every tunnel, then swiftly lifted her arm to point at one ahead and to the right. “That one.”

“You remembered?” he asked in a relieved tone, though it was more a statement than a question. To his surprise she shook her head.

“No. I can’t see it, I don’t remember anything about these tunnels. I just have a feeling that we go through that one.” She tensed in preparation of his reaction but he stayed silent for so long she finally spoke up herself. “Well? What do you think, which way should we go?”

He merely shrugged, though his calm tone was belied by the nervous look on his face. “Hell if I know. Your guess is better than mine.”

He started towards the tunnel she had indicated but before he got there, she pulled back on his arm. “Wait, are you sure we should go that way, what if I’m wrong, I don’t actually remember anything.”

He put a hand on each of her shoulders below the straps of her pack, grey eyes watching her bite her lip. “You’ve been right so far, yeah? I mean, haven’t there been times you’ve just known things, just had a feeling based on something you know but can’t remember?” She nodded hesitantly, thinking about times when she’d known an answer on an exam though she’d never have been able to cite her source if asked where the information had come from. “So who says you can’t know something he did even without his specific memory about it?”

After a couple more deep breaths, she simply nodded again, this time with a little more certainty, and turned towards the new tunnel. She was almost a meter into the tunnel before she realized that she was holding his hand again. Ginny thought perhaps she should let go if for no other reason than they didn’t know when they would need to bring out the tranquilizer rifles strapped securely to their backs. She continued on, hand in hand with Draco, however, for at least another couple of meters before a slight noise coming from ahead of them caused them both to stop in their tracks.

In wordless agreement, they took off their packs, unstrapped their rifles, replaced their packs and crept cautiously ahead, guns at the ready. They covered the remaining length of the tunnel in countless heart pounding minutes. By the time that they had reached the opening to a larger chamber, both of them had to concentrate on keeping their hands steady on their weapons. Draco swallowed audibly and she tensed beside him as they both glanced ever so carefully around the edges of the opening closest to them.

The snake was coiled up about ten yards away, its head facing the far wall of the cavern where a small opening could just be seen where the wall curved away to the left. Two thoughts rushed simultaneously through his mind, first that the other opening appeared to lead further into the cave, and that with the snake watching it so intensely that it was highly possible that Voldemort himself or his Death Eaters were somewhere through that opening. Would someone be coming through that opening soon, was it the snake’s feeding time and that was why she was watching so closely? Draco shook his head slightly, trying his best to dislodge that thought process before it went any further so he could concentrate on the situation at hand. They were here to get Nagini and that was what they were going to do. Wasting time worrying about what-ifs would not help them complete their mission.

Apparently Ginny’s thoughts had traveled on a similar track because she was just pulling her gaze from the opening with a determined expression when he looked over to meet her eyes. With a series of silent and subtle hand gestures their sniper instructor had taught them, they analyzed the possibilities of taking the shot. Draco wanted it. His finger twitched more than once, eager to shift back off the guard to settle on the trigger. He wanted the shot. He wanted to push the redhead back so that if something went wrong she might have a chance to escape back into the tunnel unseen.

He knew, however, that Ginny had done remarkably well in their weapons training and was just as capable of making the shot as he was, if not more so. He knew that she had a familiarity with the animal because of the transplanted memories and while it was unlikely that they would help in this situation it was still possible, and any advantage was worth it right now. He also knew that she was in a marginally better position to sight in on the target and that if he moved at all, even the few steps needed to get a better view that it might make enough noise to alert the snake to their presence. It simply made more sense for her to take the shot, yet it still took him a few moments to convince himself to give her the gesture to go ahead.

When he finally managed to do so, he felt more than heard her let out a deep breath as she raised her rifle and took aim. His heart pounded once, twice, three times in his chest as her finger moved off the guard and onto the trigger. He focused on the snake, mentally willing it not to move. There was a soft pop as the tranquilizer dart was released, then an almost inaudible noise as the projectile embedded itself in the back of the snake’s neck, just under her skull. The two partners ducked back into the tunnel out of sight before the sound of movement began to echo in the chamber.

He pictured the snake whipping her head around, looking one way and then the other, trying to get a look at the back of her neck to see what had caused the pinch she had just felt. Shuffling continued only yards away from where they hid, eyes wide, brown and grey connected as they both held themselves absolutely still, barely daring to breath. Neither was sure how long it took for all sound of movement to cease as every second felt about an hour long as they waited, then waited a little longer in the silence, wanting to be sure that the snake was asleep before they moved into the open. Eventually, they began inching slowly, carefully, cautiously back to the edge of the tunnel and leaned out just far enough to look into the chamber . They didn’t have to look very far, Nagini was only about a yard away, her head facing the tunnel where Draco and Ginny stood.

End Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three:

The breath stopped in her throat, choking her as Ginny saw the giant snake, her head raised, fangs bared. A hand grasped her arm and the redhead let out a small shocked whimper. Grey eyes met hers, the question clear in them. But she simply shook her head and, blinking rapidly to dispel the image from her memory, focused once more on the task at hand. Draco stood where he was, silently regarding her for another moment, then turned with her to face the snake where it lay on the ground about a half dozen steps away, inside the cave chamber. From where they stood Nagini appeared to be unconscious. The snake was completely still, her eyes closed, but they were both extremely cautious as they slowly approached her.

Draco had explained the effects of the tranquilizer they had used in the special rifles, they had even watched several documentaries and other promotional videos he had purchased through the vet supply which demonstrated the drug’s effects on large animals. Even knowing all this, even believing everything he had said and shown her, the witch couldn’t help but wish they had been able to use the Draught of Living Death instead of these Muggle chemicals. Despite her fears and wishes she had known from the start that the use of anything made with magic was too much of a risk considering how little they knew about the strength and sensitivity of the anti-magic ward. But she still wished and she still feared. She also feared that she might have made some kind of mistake in calculating the dosages of either drug they were relying on today.

She felt her hands begin to tremble once more. They had steadied themselves out as soon as she’d begun sighting in on the snake with her gun, but without that to focus on, she lost the control she had gained over them. She tightened her grip on the rifle in an effort to still them, and pointedly stepped aside as Draco knelt down to remove the second drug from his bag. “I’ll keep watch,” she whispered, then quickly stepped towards the opening on the other side of the cave chamber and raised her gun back to the ready position.

She could feel his eyes on her for a moment, but she refused to look back at him. A moment later she heard him resume his movements and had to keep from sighing in relief at the fact that he wasn’t going to question her.

She continued to watch the opening as he quickly but carefully administered the medication that would chemically induce a coma in the giant snake. The shaking of her hands hadn’t been obvious, but he had seen her steadying them on her weapon and had a feeling that he knew what she’d been thinking to cause her to feel that nervous or fearful. As much as he trusted her and knew that she had painstakingly worked for several days to figure out the correct doses, the wizard found himself holding his breath as they worked to maneuver the animal into the bag for transport. It took every bit of strength they both had, combined, to carry Nagini out of the chamber and through the tunnel. They were using a specially structured bag to make it easier to carry it, but the snake was still exceptionally heavy and they were more than out of breath by the time they made it all the way back to the cave’s entrance shaft.

He desperately wanted to check the contents of the bag many times on the long walk to reassure himself that she hadn’t begun to wake up. He did his best, however, not to let his nerves show if for no other reason than it might slow them down. He wasn’t sure how long they had been in the cave so far, having forgotten to check his watch when they landed, but he didn’t want to push their luck by trying to remain any longer than necessary. And the only thing that was strictly necessary at that point was getting back to the shaft, getting out of the cave, and getting to the rendezvous point on time. It was with this in mind that Draco worked as quickly as he could to connect the bag securely to the extra winch line he had brought down with him when they had repelled into the cave.

Ginny took the opportunity to catch her breath while he took care of the bag, so tired from helping to carry the giant animal through the entire length of tunnel that she hadn’t even tried to argue when he’d waved her off the moment she’d gone to help him with the winch line. By the time the third line was secured, however, she had rested enough that she had no trouble convincing her body to move quickly to latch herself onto her own line. She could tell by the almost jerking motions he made in attaching his line that he was feeling the same urge to hurry. That sensation of urgency only increased as they ascended the shaft in tandem, their free hands linked on the bag dangling between them.

They were in so much of a hurry by the time they had made it back outside of the cave that witch and wizard both fumbled in removing their lines from their climbing harnesses. As many times as they had gone through this process during their training, it proved more difficult with their hearts racing in their chests and the unshakable fear that if they were going to be caught it was probably more likely for it to happen now than it had been at any point other than when they had first entered the cave and passed through the wards. The fact that the sky was beginning to grow dark as they exited the cave and the implication of how much time had passed did not help reduce their instinct to rush.

Draco consulted his watch as the redhead finally got free of her line and started working on disconnecting the bag. Their primary extraction time had passed nearly an hour before. Grey eyes fell shut on a pained exclamation and she immediately glanced his way with a fearful expression. He didn’t wait for her to ask the question, simply giving her the answer as he reached forward to help her with the bag.

“We missed our first pick up. We have about ten minutes to get to the rendezvous for our back-up extraction.”

She swallowed audibly and he knew he didn’t need to point out that if they didn’t make it to their secondary pick up, they were on their own to get far enough away from the cave system to safely transport themselves out magically without fear of the wards alerting the Death Eaters. They couldn’t afford to give Voldemort time to get on the offensive before the snake was taken care of for good. They had to make their secondary extraction. Their urgency was palpable as they struggled to once more carry the huge bag almost two kilometers away from the cave entrance to the area where they had been dropped off earlier that day. The roar of the plane’s engine was growing as they reached their destination. The sound spurred their steps, both of them knowing that if they weren’t ready for it when the plane flew by that they wouldn’t get another chance.

For the first time since he had proposed their exit plan, Ginny wasn’t scared by the idea. She was too busy rushing to get ready, too afraid that they would miss their window for the extraction. She and Draco both dropped the snake with only a vague regard for whether the jarring landing of the bag would wake the animal if it were not properly comatose. Nothing mattered as much as getting the equipment out of the bag they had left with their parachutes when they landed. The importance of their speed in getting ready overwhelmed all thought and left the witch so hyper focused on her task that she was aware of little else but the gear in her hands.

The wizard, on the other hand was overly aware of the sound of the approaching aircraft engine as he struggled to hook the bag containing Nagini into the extraction gear and watch her hooking up herself at the same time. Adrenaline was coursing through him more effectively then any Invigoration Draught as he completed his task and darted over to begin the next step of the process.

“What are you doing?” She forgot all about stealth as she shouted the question when she had hooked the final clip to her harness and looked up to see her partner opening the black case. The blond said nothing in response, only worked harder to finish what he was doing. “You’re not hooked in!”

He didn’t hear the shocked fear in her voice, he barely even heard her words over the roar of blood pounding in his ears combined with the increasing rumble of the plane. He simply continued to activate the automatic inflation of the large heavy duty balloon, thinking only that he had to get it into the air so that it had time to get high enough for the plane to grab it and use it to pick them up without landing. Or rather for the plane to pick up Ginny and the snake.

Draco Malfoy had been more than a little selfish his entire life, he had been raised to be as self important and greedy as his father and it had been a lesson he learned well. And for all that he had grown significantly as a person during his time with his Muggle relatives, he had never found himself in a situation where his own safety was lowest on his list of concerns. That had changed, however, in the instant that he had realized that any delay may spell disaster for the witch, the Order, and himself. Suddenly, unaccountably, getting his partner and their prize out of harm’s way was the sole focus of his thoughts. Those thoughts, and the fear that fueled them burst out of him as she reached for the straps of his harness.

He shoved her harshly aside and grabbed at the balloon. “We have to get it up before the plane gets too close,” he yelled.

Her response was a venomous look in his direction as she came towards him again and began to tug once more on his harness, getting it ready to attach to the balloon. He fought the urge to pull away for several tense seconds, knowing by the look on her face that any argument on his part would only increase the likelihood of them not being ready on time. Helping her get himself hooked up as quickly as possible so they could hopefully deploy the balloon before the plane arrived was their only hope, he knew it just by looking at her, but it was still a fight to convince his arms to release the balloon and help her. Even so, he managed it and after what felt like twenty minutes, he was firmly attached and ready to be picked up, but the balloon that would make it possible for them to be extracted by the plane while it was still in flight was far from its target altitude when the plane became visible on the horizon.

The seconds ticked by, each one that passed making his heart beat faster and harder in his chest until it felt like it would jump free of his ribcage, and still the balloon wasn’t high enough. Draco forced himself not to glance over at his partner, already picturing entirely too clearly the look of disbelief and fear on her face when their instructor had explained this particular extraction technique. Although it had seemed reasonable to him after it had been explained by the former special forces soldier who had used the technique more than once himself, he knew the redhead still felt very nervous about using this method. In that instant, Draco had to admit silently that he was experiencing a small case of nerves himself.

Before he could actually evaluate that feeling however, or wonder how overwhelming Ginny’s fear must be in that moment, the aircraft positioned itself just exactly right to intercept the balloon and by extension, them. The witch, wizard, and snake were jerked sharply off the ground and into the air a few seconds later. The blond tightened his muscles to keep his arms and legs crossed the way they had been shown, then tightened them still further as his partner let out a choked shriek when the thick rope they were attached to began to be towed rapidly behind the plane. He was tempted to try and look over at the redhead in the next few minutes as she fell silent once more but he kept his eyes tightly shut against the rushing wind.

Neither chose to remember with an clarity, the time between when they had been picked up and when they were standing once more on solid ground almost fifty kilometers from the caves with the plane a mere rumble of sound in the distance. For her part, Ginny studiously arranged their used gear while Draco examined his watch with far more concentration than necessary to determine how long they had until their portkey to Order Headquarters would activate. They could only keep themselves distracted for so long. The amount of time they managed was not even close to the amount of time that they needed to allow their heartbeats to settle to a rate that could be somewhat ignored.

With no other ready tasks to busy themselves with however, they finally turned to face one another. Their eyes locked immediately, neither saying a word, their thoughts still racing to catch up with the fact that they had just accomplished the nearly impossible goal they had been working towards for so many months. They had broken into one of the Dark Lord’s most important strongholds and stolen his prized pet which contained the final external portion of Voldemort’s soul. They had done it, and it appeared that they had gotten away with it. So far.

Draco broke his gaze from hers, his eyes dropping down to land on the large bumpy sack laying between them containing Nagini’s unmoving form. Brown followed grey and remained there for a long, slow heartbeat before being drawn back up where they met his once more. They still said nothing, neither able to express in words the many overwhelming thoughts and feelings beginning to spill in past the numbing shock that had shielded them from their doubts and fears and allowed them to complete their task. Yet there was too much to be contained and before they could wrangle their thoughts into enough order to express them verbally, their tumbling emotions took control of them both, the feelings of fear, excitement, and relief bursting out of them in the form of a sudden and enthusiastic kiss.

End Chapter Twenty-Three

Author's Note:
No, I did not make it up. LOL. The extraction technique described in this chapter is called the Skyhook and was first used in WWII (though it was a bit different then) and continued to be used by the special forces until 1996, at least in the US, I’m not sure about England or Australia but since the seventh book ended in ’98 I figured it was close enough that recently retired soldiers would have been trained in the technique.

The Skyhook was replaced when helicopters were capable of longer flights to reach isolated soldiers for ‘in flight pickup’ so to say. I chose not to have them lifted out by helicopter because it would be closer to the ground, louder, and slower. In the approximately five minutes that a ‘copter would be audible and visable I thought it too likely that and Death Eaters in the other end of the cave would be able to come out and investigate, see them, and know something might be wrong. Since there was a quicker and quieter option I figured Draco would have chosen that one, as ridiculous as the Skyhook sounds.

Chapter Twenty-Four:

They had moved forward as one, their lips meeting almost violently, emotions surging through and between them for several moments before they even became fully aware of what they were doing. They were kissing. Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, former enemies and current partners and semi-friends, were making out rather enthusiastically on an abandoned airstrip in the middle of nowhere and had been doing so for a while. That fact hit them both nearly simultaneously and they pulled apart almost as quickly as they came together.

Silence continued to reign, growing increasingly uncomfortable as their gazes swept the deserted strip of concrete, looking anywhere but at each other. She soon found herself staring intently at the large bag which concealed the giant snake they had gone through so much to obtain. A surge of fear overcame her discomfort enough to allow her to ignore the urge to put some distance between herself and Draco and instead reach out to grasp his arm in a painfully tight grip. His gaze darted back to her face from where it had been fixed on the winch several feet away. The blond opened his mouth but, before he could find his voice, she was suddenly grasping her right earring with her free hand. Ginny canceled the charm concealing her wand in the piece of jewelry and was swishing and flicking almost in the same movement.

The redhead had cast several silencing and sleep spells on the snake and the bag itself before he had a chance to question her. They had, of course, planned to cast the spells as soon as they were safely away from any conceivable reach of the anti-magic wards, but the suddenness with which she had done so surprised him. Still, he waited to ask about her actions, a breathless moment passing, in which they both waited to see if anything would happen. As impossible as it was that there could be a ward against magic on the snake, it was a fear they couldn’t suppress. Once the apparent lack of reaction or consequence to their casting left them feeling at least somewhat comfortable that Death Eaters would not pop out of nowhere to catch them or follow them to their next destination, he turned to her.

She beat him to it, her voice filling the quiet air, her words causing a sudden chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the occasional breeze that drifted through.

“I thought I saw Nagini move.”

They stared at the bag in silence as they watched for any sign of movement from the snake, holding themselves as still as possible, as if doing so would keep the animal still as well. Just as their breath began to return at the lack of noticeable movement, the bag seemed to jerk just the slightest bit, though the movement also appeared to coincide with a small gust of wind. They eyed each other wearily, the partners glancing continuously back at the bag as they spoke.

“Was that the snake moving or just the bag?” Her voice came out as a whisper, scared of being overheard by the animal or through it, by the Dark Lord, despite the newly-cast spells. Though when it came down to it, if the animal was awake, the damage could already have been done. He seemed to share at least some of her fear, despite his words, because his response was just as quiet.

“I think it was just the wind.”

“Right, just the wind,” she agreed in a whisper, though she didn’t miss the fact that he had to jerk his hands back as they started to move towards the bag, perhaps to open it and check to see if the snake was conscious. At least that was what she assumed as she felt the need to clasp her hands tightly behind her back to keep from checking the bag herself.

Silence stretched between them for several minutes with more than a few glances being exchanged and a lot of nervous staring at the bag. Eventually however, they forced themselves to concentrate on something else, knowing that even if the medication had worn off, the Order would still want and need to move forward as soon as possible. And one thing that the Order would need to be able to do so was information that only the two of them had, such as the location and layout of the cave system Voldemort was using to hide his pet and conceivably other similarly important things. Like himself or some of his Death Eaters.

So the partners, after moving several meters down the runway and huddling together, drew up a map of the cave. Even staying busy didn’t keep them from worrying, and they both not only kept one eye on the bag while they worked but they made a point of using pen and paper to carry out their discussions rather than do so verbally. By the time their portkey was almost due to activate, the witch and wizard were both strung so tight that the kiss they exchanged was the furthest thing from their minds. Despite being over fifty kilometers from the cave, and having noticed no other movement of the bag, they couldn’t help thinking that they were far from in the clear.

The last minutes ticked by with painful slowness until it was time. They each placed a hand on the bag containing Nagini and the other on the small portkey that they had been given only two days before. Then they were gone.

The combination of the day’s stress, the portkey’s disorienting tug to their guts, and the impact of the headquarters' wards as they snapped immediately back into place around them, left Ginny almost certain that she was about to lose what little she had eaten that morning. She didn’t have time to even say a silent thank you that her stomach managed to stay down, however, as the grizzled acting head of the Order practically leapt upon them before they so much as regained their balance.

“Did you get it? Were you seen?” Moody reached for the bag still clutched between them before the first question was fully formed, so Draco took a moment to catch his breath, then began to answer the second.

“I don’t think anyone saw us,” the blond stated tiredly.

Ginny, despite her own exhaustion and the nausea still rolling in her stomach, grimaced at the irritated impatience quickly forming on the former Auror’s face. From her previous work with the wizard in acquiring the other Horcruxes and subsequent interrogations, she knew the answer would not satisfy Mad-Eye and she hurriedly stepped in.

“We didn’t see anyone and there was no sign that any spells or alarms had been triggered by our presence. There was no indication that anything had changed around the caves while we were inside or after we exited.”

The wizard stared at her for a moment with one eye while the other remained uncharacteristically fixed on the bag he was still in the process of opening, then nodded and returned his full attention to making sure that the snake was still unconscious. The older wizard took advantage of his colleague’s silence to speak.

“How are you both? No injuries or problems from your adventure today, I hope?” Dumbledore asked with a smile. Draco responded with a short shake of his head, and Ginny managed a small smile at the kindly wizard.

Moody waved away the developing conversation and instead demanded the others’ help in moving the large bag into the back bedroom where he then pulled the former headmaster aside and the two began debating what to do with the comatose Nagini. The two older wizards went back and forth about their concerns about whether it was more important to act quickly in trying to destroy the Horcrux so that Voldemort would not have time to realize the snake was gone, or to be cautious in their attempts in case the wrong approach or action against the snake might somehow alert the Dark Lord through his unknown bond with the animal.

As they argued for and against, one urging swift action and the other advising caution, the redhead finally lost her battle with her mounting stress, fatigue, and whirling emotions. The shaking in her limbs had become visibly noticeable before she had made her way into the corner of the room and was able to slump against the wall with a quiet sigh. Despite Draco’s own unsteadiness on his feet, he was quickly at her side as she began to slide down the wall, the young blond’s hand steadying and slowing her descent.

She met his eyes for several long seconds, but couldn’t work up the energy to actually say anything. Even when they had been waiting for the portkey, there had been something to do, first monitoring the bag with Nagini and mentally evaluating their mission, and then composing the map and list of pertinent information about the maze-like cave system they had infiltrated. Now that they were back at Headquarters, had given their preliminary report, and handed over the snake, there was nothing for them to do and it left them both with entirely too much of an opportunity to think about what had happened which hadn’t been strictly related to their mission. Like the kiss they had shared after they had been picked up by the airplane.

The more time went by, the more that one single event seemed to gain weight until it sat heavily in the air between them. Draco tried his best to ignore the increasing awkwardness, at least long enough to ask his partner if she was all right after nearly collapsing, but was unable to force the words past his lips. Instead, he simply fixed his gaze on the argument occurring on the other side of the room while his hand wordlessly reached out and grasped hers in what he hoped was a reassuring grip. For a moment, he was sure he felt her eyes flick over to him, but the sensation ended almost as soon as it began, and silence continued to reign in their little corner of the room.

The silence had finally become comfortable between the blond and redhead when her soft voice broke him from his reverie. Her words were spoken in a detached, absent tone and he was so sure that she was just mumbling tiredly to herself that he didn’t bother to respond at first, let alone really listen to what she said. It wasn’t until her statement seeped past his exhaustion that he turned slowly to face her.

“...can’t see her eyes...”

“Whose eyes?” Draco asked, the question tumbling out automatically in response to his confusion.

The redhead jumped slightly where she sat, as though startled by the sound of his voice, then blinked slowly several times to bring him into focus before answering. “What?”

“You said something about ‘her eyes’.”

Ginny simply stared at him for another few seconds, processing his question, forcing her tired mind to connect it with what she had just been thinking. “Oh, yeah. I was wondering when they’re going to be done deciding what to do. They’re going to have to open the bag and I am just kind of glad that hasn’t happened yet so I don’t have to see her eyes.” The witch shook her head slightly. “Not that we’ll really be able to see them, since the snake is still unconscious, at least I hope she-”

He lifted a hand to cut off what looked like it could turn into a rather long babble, something he knew that she was prone to do when she was tired. Something she had said at first was raising an indistinct red flag in his mind, but he wasn’t sure what or why. In an effort to pinpoint the feeling, he redirected her back to her initial statement. “What’s the problem with her eyes?”

Brown eyes looked away for several moments before she turned back to him and quietly responded. “Harry used to talk about how much it bothered him when he saw through the snake’s eyes in the dreams Voldemort sent him last year. I didn’t understand until I remembered Nagini. It’s just that when I see Nagini in my- his memories, her eyes are always so creepy looking. I mean, she’s scary anyway, but her eyes, they’re...”

She trailed off, a noticeable shudder working through her as she fell quiet and it was that silence, that inability to articulate how much the snake’s eyes scared her that made him think. Draco thought about all the different things she had told him over the last few months about the things she had remembered, especially about the Dark Lord and his pet. He thought about the link that existed between the two evil beings and how important it was that both were destroyed. The problem was how to go about doing that. She had told him more than once the difficulty she, Moody, and Dumbledore had had in destroying the other Horcruxes. It had taken Gryffindor’s sword to destroy the Ravenclaw desk, and it had taken hours and countless attempts until they had literally melted Hufflepuff’s cup.

All other thoughts came to a screeching halt in his head as the last repeated itself over and over about half a dozen times. There was something about the cup, something about the eyes. His heart pounded in his chest and his mind spun. Harry had seen through Nagini’s eyes. Voldemort saw through her eyes. Voldemort was linked to the snake. The thing that stood out to Ginny in her recollections was the snake’s eyes, and there was something about destroying Hufflepuff’s cup that stood out to him. What was it about the cup that bothered him? What was it about the eyes that bothered Harry, that bothered Ginny? The eyes scared her the most. The key was in the eyes. The key was in the cup. Melted. No, not melted, that wasn’t quite it. But the image it conjured in his head was almost right.

“Liquefiat.”

End Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

As quiet as his voice had been, it could have been a shout for the response it garnered from the two older wizards. Both turned to look at the blond with a speed that she was worried might cause some type of whipped lash, or whatever they called it on the telly. With Draco’s driving it was not a foreign concept for the witch, though neither of her mentors seemed to be suffering any of its effects as they suddenly pinned her partner to the floor with their three good eyes. The magical orb, she noted distantly, was still fixed on the partially opened bag containing Nagini on the large table that had been covered with research material every other time she had been in these rooms.

“What did you just say?” The words came out with an almost menacing edge, though both teens caught the shade of what could have been excitement, which appeared mirrored in the face of the former Headmaster nearby.

Even so, it took a second for Draco to find his voice in the face of Alastor Moody’s sharp interest. “Liquefiat… sir.”

The former, if unwilling, Death Eater wasn’t one that would normally use such a term in regular conversation anymore, but considering the narrow gaze of the infamous Auror, he decided to err on the side of caution. He just barely noticed the ever so slight nod given by the redhead next to him and figured it was probably a good call. Any thoughts of manners or proper respect were immediately overridden by the advance of the grizzled wizard. Acting more on the desire not to be at a disadvantage than showing respect, the Malfoy heir rose to his feet as Dumbledore raised his good hand to halt his colleague’s movement towards the blond.

“Interesting choice, my boy, what exactly do you propose that we liquefy?”

“Ginny was just saying that the thing that stood out the most about her memories of the snake were the eyes, and that Potter can see through Nagini’s eyes like he can the Dark Lord’s so the link between V-Voldemort and his pet is probably through the eyes. If the link between them is in fact attached to the presence of the Horcrux inside the snake, I thought maybe that would be the place to concentrate on.”

“Indeed, the concept does sound promising. Alastor?” The aged wizard turned to the man who had been running the Order in his stead for nearly a year.

The suspicious way the good eye regarded Draco was hardly surprising to anyone in the room, but the gruff sound of agreement and slight nod of his head was not what the others had expected. “We did have to melt the cup.”

The bespectacled wizard tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Thus changing the basic structure and makeup of the physical item in order to separate and release the Horcrux within. Yes, yes, promising indeed.” The twinkle in the blue eyes which swung towards the last occupant of the room was sharp, bright, and just a touch dangerous.

Ginny swallowed once, gathering her thoughts from the single minded and almost frantic search of every memory, feeling and intuition she had the moment she realized where the conversation was headed. Having stood at the same time as her former housemate, the redhead made a visible effort to remain where she was. “Nothing specific, sir,” she admitted in answer to the former Headmaster’s silent question. “But,”

She bit her lip as Moody latched immediately onto that one word, taking a step towards her in what she would have considered a threatening gesture before they’d started working together. “What, Weasley? What do you know?”

She refrained from repeating that she hadn’t seen any specific memory or suddenly known anything about the snake like she had with the cup or the desk, instead stating exactly what she had felt as soon as Draco had finished his explanation. “I want to. I just suddenly, for no specific reason, have an urge to do it.”

The two war veterans turned to each other without another word, then a heartbeat later, turned simultaneously back towards the table. The elder swiftly vanished the bag still partially obscuring the huge snake with a flick of his wrist. Before Dumbledore had lowered his good arm, Mad-Eye was pointing his wand at the closed eyes of the final Horcrux with a shout.

“Liquefiat!”

The word was immediately lost in a loud roar as something resembling a shock wave exploded from the snake in ripples of sound and energy that left all four struggling to remain upright. When the wave had reached the walls of the dilapidated rooms it snapped back forcefully, pulling everyone a single step towards the table. The movement made it impossible to not hear the bubbling hiss that emitted from the coiled body as first its eyes, then the rest of Nagini’s scaled form dissolved first into a nauseating slime, then nothing more than an unpleasant aroma. Several seconds followed during which the witnesses could only blink in disbelief before finally turning to each other with matching looks of disturbed surprise.

Ginny was the first to find her voice, unsteady as it might have been. “Not exactly what I was expecting, but I’ll take it, I suppose.”

The comment prompted a barking laugh from the grizzled wizard who had acted as her mentor since the night her memories had prompted her to break into the very rooms they were standing in. “Bloody right,” Moody snarled as he turned his attention from the redhead to the white haired wizard beside him. “Albus.”

The brief word earned him a solemn nod. “Indeed, Alastor.” The agreement barely needed to be spoken aloud as the Head and Acting Head of the Order of the Phoenix leapt into action, gathering the few things they needed before dropping the wards momentarily and Apparating away with nothing more than the words, “stay safe” and a set of curt nods in Draco and Ginny’s direction.

Any response that the blond or redhead would have made was drowned out by the uncharacteristically loud pop of the older wizards’ departure followed by the dull echo of the wards snapping back into place, in the wake of which, a heavy silence descended. Both of the now-former partners opened their mouth more than once over the next minute or so, as if to say something, only to sigh or shake their head and remain silent. Their role in the final showdown was complete and there was nothing left for them to do but wait and hope that taking the Horcruxes out of the equation was enough to ensure Voldemort’s defeat. To that end, it was all in the Order’s hands now, along with the map and notes they had written up at the airstrip.

Draco wouldn’t be the least but surprised if those notes weren’t currently in the hands of Saint Potter himself. It had been the general consensus between the heads of the Order and the two young Horcrux hunters – though if you asked him, thieves was probably the most apt description – that since Nagini had been there it was most likely that the Dark Lord would be at the camp on the other end of the cave. And where Voldemort was likely to be, the Boy-Who-Lived was likely to go.

For all that he and Ginny had been entrusted with the nearly impossible task of finding, taking, and helping destroy the pieces of his evil soul, the Dark Lord himself could only be killed by his prophesied equal. The blond did not envy his old nemesis that particular job. His had been bad enough. Though he mentally revised that assessment of his assignment with the young witch beside him. Bad was not the first word that came to his mind when he replayed their time working together. Parts of it had been quite enjoyable if he were being honest. One part in particular, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. Better to focus elsewhere.

Keeping his mind on something other than the spontaneous kiss they had shared not long before was easier said than done. And not just for him. Ginny also found her thoughts returning to the event regardless of her intentions otherwise. The quiet room grew increasingly tense as they forced themselves to hold a stilted conversation about what could be happening at that moment back at the caves or the other Death Eater hideouts that had been located over the past few months.

Although the redhead found the talk of the multiple battlefields and their possible outcomes to be a stressful way of occupying herself, it was what they were not saying that caused her to snap. Ginny’s voice broke into the pointedly emotionless drone of Draco’s words with sudden volume, causing the blond to rear back slightly in surprise.

“How the bloody hall can you just sit there and talk about likely combat scenarios when we…” She cut herself off as quickly as she had him a moment earlier, forced to make a sweeping gesture with her arms to fill in the words she found she was unable to actually say out loud.

The wizard-cum-Muggle daredevil raised his eyebrows in only partially feigned shock as he tried to convince himself that she was referring to anything except what he knew she was referring to. It took a considerable amount of his self-control to keep his tone steady and nonchalant. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak arm-flailing, what exactly are you talking about?”

Draco congratulated himself on the almost teasing way he’d managed to speak past the rising feeling of panic and hope at her words. He received only a glare for his efforts. “You know exactly what I mean, Draco Malfoy.”

The chastisement was probably meant to be somewhat cutting, but the blush sweeping up her throat and across her cheeks took any bite out of the exclamation. He couldn’t help smirking at the appealing sight, the amused expression prompting what sounded like a growl from the petite redhead. He barely had time to blink in reaction to the unexpectedly menacing noise before whatever control she had been exercising evaporated completely. He hadn’t even processed the fact that she had moved, when his housemate lunged at him, her lips landing almost violently on his.

All humor left him on a quickly drawn breath. Shocked at her own actions and suddenly fearful that his sharp inhale indicated that her action had not been welcomed, the redhead began to pull back. A pale hand swiftly rose to tangle in her disheveled hair, preventing the retreat and instead drawing her closer as the kiss gained in intensity. It wasn’t until air became an issue for both of them that the two separated, though it was only far enough for them to be able to gasp in needed oxygen.

“That. We did-” Ginny’s attempt at answering the question that had preceded the passionate exchange was cut off with another kiss, no less intense for its brevity as he pulled back again a moment later.

“Yes, we did.” His words washed over her face in a rush of hot breath and he barely started to say that they should do it again when she smothered the words with her lips.

Conversation as a whole ceased entirely for quite some time as the former partners released all their pent up fear and hope and pure nerves in a snog that ranged from tender to near violent. When they were finally catching their breath again it was interspersed with laughter and blushes that were tamped down with headshakes and shyly bitten lips only to bubble forth yet again as soon as their eyes met over the mere inches that separated them. Soon enough, exhaustion won out over the rush of emotions and the two eventually settled down in their corner of Moody’s outer room at Grimmauld Place.

His fingers raked gently through her russet strands as the youngest Weasley settled her head on his chest. This time the silence between them was comfortable and as relaxed as it could be considering they were still waiting for word on the outcome of the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. Even so, it wasn’t long before their quiet voices filled the still air as they softly discussed some of the crazy things they had done during their respective stays at the Tonks’ home. A more serious topic kept returning to the front of his mind, however, and it wasn’t more than half an hour later that the heavy statement fell from his lips with very little permission from his brain.

“I don’t know if I want to go back.” The thought that not too long ago he would have considered a betrayal of everything he and his family stood for left a feeling of relief in its wake, though the way her shoulders had climbed towards her ears as soon as he’d said it indicated that Ginny did not feel the same. Unsure what she would say or how that response might dull the pleasant lightness in his chest, which had combined quite favorably with the even more positive sensations from their kisses, he continued. “Not just Hogwarts. I don’t know if I want to go back at all. I’ve made a life for myself, a real one and I…”

He was nearly as tense as she was when he forced out the thing that had been hovering in the very back of his mind for months. “I don’t want to be the person I was before. What if coming back, using magic, not doing taekwondo or motorbike racing… what if I become him again when I lose my Muggle life?”

The young witch tried to respond, to tell him she wouldn’t let that happen, but three thoughts prevented it. First, she recalled how little she had heard Hermione talk about her life in the Muggle world in the past few years and how much time the curly-haired witch had spent at the Burrow over the summers rather than her parents’ home. Second, Ginny pictured the hard mask this wizard had always worn in public as the crowds parted before him as if they might be struck or contaminated if they got to close. Then she compared it to the open joy she had witnessed him exude when he was performing dangerous stunts with his new friends and a tendril of worry grew in her. But it was the third thing that made her truly pause… when I lose my Muggle life he had said. Lose, not leave. It wasn’t just what he would have to deal with in the Wizarding World that he didn’t want, it was that he wanted what he had in the Muggle World instead.

He became more and more tense as he waited for her to say something. Before his stomach could clench too tightly in anticipation of her response, the slamming of a door echoed through the house, waking the screaming portrait in the front hall and prompting both to scramble hastily to their feet.

The various members of the advancing group talked over and around each other, the volume of the simultaneous conversations more than loud enough to cover the sound of Ginny opening the door to Moody’s rooms so she could glance over the group. The bright hair of the twins, Charlie, and Ron made them easy to spot and she let out a sigh of relief at the lack of obvious injuries. The Weasley matriarch of course, was automatically distinguishable by the mere echo of her constant stream of concerned comments. It didn’t take long for that concern to be shifted in her direction when the housewitch spotted her only daughter in the doorway.

“Oh Ginny, dear! There you are, they said you were here safe. Thank goodness you were away from it all. Dreadful, just dreadful. Bill is with Fleur at St. Mungo’s, nothing serious but best to be safe. And your father’s with poor Harry at the hospital wing so Poppy can keep an eye on him. He plain wore himself out, the brave dear, passed out as soon as it was all over. Ron wanted to be with him of course, but I said-”

Where the woman was able to get the air to scream Ginny didn’t know, she certainly hadn’t paused for breath as she’d fussed her way over to the doorway, but scream she did. The youngest Weasley didn’t have to glance behind her to know exactly what had set her mother off. The cry had everyone else looking, though, as they rushed forward, wands drawn. Ginny’s response was as automatic as the rest, though she jumped towards the blond to place herself protectively at his side rather than aim stunners at his head. Before the spells had fully left the raised wands, there was a flurry of movement.

Draco spun rapidly on his heel, knocking the wands out of the three hands closest to him with a single kick before falling back into a fighting stance to the left and slightly in front of his fellow Horcrux hunter. As his feet planted themselves, the petite redhead was raising a shield around them both. The shield almost didn’t finish forming before a multitude of spells hit it, bouncing off and stunning two of the Order who had thrown them.

The cacophony of shouts that were then aimed at them ranged from orders for Ginny to get away, to expletives in combination with the name Malfoy. Brown eyes rolled at the overreaction occurring in front of her, but knowing the others as she did, the witch knew stunners and shouts and cursing were only the start. And even if she could get a word in edgewise experience told her not a single one of them would listen to what she had to say before they finished attacking the wizard they had previously thought dead with his parents months before.

“Moody! Professor! A little help in here!”

The two wizards in question were already making their way towards the uproar but obviously hastened their progress through the crowd blocking the doorway in response to the shout for help. As soon as he’d entered the rooms that had hidden him for so long, Albus Dumbledore began politely addressing the violent crowd. “Now now, everyone, I assure you there is no cause for fuss.”

The Tonks’ former house guest let out a sigh of relief at the wizards’ arrival, though her expression didn’t carry any hint of surprise at the presence of someone that until that morning, the entire Order, aside from Moody, had thought dead. The idea that little Ginny Weasley had known before they had that Dumbledore was alive caused even more yelled accusations. The wizard in question, however, simply kept up his courteous assurances.

“We’re all friends here, there’s no need for-”

A shout of “that’s Malfoy, he’s no friend of mine!” cut off the former Headmasters words and prompted a growl from the retired Auror that effectively carried over all the other voices.

“If you want an explanation, everybody better shut it!”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore continued, calmly addressing the previous exclamation as if Moody hadn’t said a word. “Mr. Malfoy is a friend to the Order and has been working with me since the beginning of his sixth year.”

Gasps and shouts of denial rose up again, but the bearded wizard simply raised his good hand and went on. “In fact, were it not for the actions of Mr. Malfoy, today’s victory would have not been possible. He and Miss Weasley have both been instrumental in allowing our final confrontation to occur successfully.”

The young redhead winced at the theoretically helpful comment, knowing even before the yelling resumed that her implied involvement would be as incendiary as the idea of Draco Malfoy secretly working with the man he had supposedly tried to kill. It came as no shock to the youngest of seven that her mother’s outraged scolding was being distributed equally between her daughter and the grizzled wizard who had told her Ginny had been sequestered ‘somewhere safe’ when she had in fact been working for the Order. And with none other than Draco Malfoy at that.

The shouts and allegations continued to war with reprimands and platitudes, effectively occupying the crowd, allowing the pair still protected by the shield to speak unnoticed. He took the opportunity to relax his fighting stance, and lower his hands from their previous position, fisted in front of him. It was when he did so and was able to compare the action with the wand the redhead kept up as she reinforced her shield that he realized he hadn’t even thought to go for his wand, which was still hidden in his watchband as it had been since he first moved into the Tonks’ house. He had automatically reacted in a purely Muggle manner, not like the wizard he had been. The implication was at once staggering and utterly comforting.

“Draco, you okay?”

The blond’s focus snapped back to the girl beside him, though a part of him was still busy processing the meaning of his sudden insight. He hadn’t reacted like a wizard. He didn’t want to react like a wizard because he didn’t want to be one. He wanted to be the young man he had become while staying in Hampstead. He was happy there, happy with his life and himself, something he couldn’t ever recall truly being as the wealthy and entitled Malfoy heir. Even before the war. He’d thought he was content, but after living without magic, after making genuine friends and finding his own honest interests, he could see what being happy was and it wasn’t the life he’d left in the Wizarding World.

“I’m not going back,” he said almost to himself, his words ringing with a resolute confidence that hadn’t been there when he’d speculated about returning to the Muggle world.

She smiled at the happy relief in his tone, but the expression was dulled by the disappointment she couldn’t hide. He noticed it immediately and reached out to take her hands in reassurance. The motion conveniently drew her closer to him so he was able to speak softly underneath the continuing arguments that surrounded them. “Do you think I should get an owl, or would it be safer to get you a post box near Ottery?”

Her smile turned more genuine at the blatant implication that they would stay in contact despite his not being in the Wizarding World. The reference to one of the first conversations they had shared at the Tonks’, which outlined the benefits and risks of the Order contacting him through Muggle post to ask for his help widened the smile further. As if sensing exactly where her thoughts had gone, he smiled back conspiratorially. “Think you can get away cleanly often enough to pick up and drop off a letter every day? I plan on being a very faithful pen pal.”

The statement had been made with complete seriousness, but the edge of wicked promise in his grin detracted from the somber tone. That edge only sharpened when she whispered back. “Oh definitely. I dare say I’ll be able to get away once or twice for longer than it takes to post a letter.”

“Really? How much longer, do you think?” The words didn’t hold even a hint of anything but mischief and matched the tone of her own which followed.

“At least long enough to take the Knight Bus to, say, Hampstead and back?”

The descent of his lips on hers prevented further speech but the kiss was soon broken forcefully when a screeching Molly Weasley pulled her daughter away and towards the front door. Realizing that she must have dropped her shield while distracted, Ginny started to pout but the rather meaningful smile the blond was sending her dampened her disappointment. It was the reassuring twinkle she spotted from the former Headmaster as he placed his good hand on Draco’s shoulder that prompted her to give in to the tugging on her arm. The last thing she saw as she was dragged out of the door of Number 12 was an exchange of pointed looks between Dumbledore and the Malfoy heir.

Any concern the youngest Weasley might have had about being able to stay in contact with her ex-partner in crime was swept away. If anyone could facilitate an abundance of Draco in her life despite her family’s best efforts, it would be Albus Dumbledore.

End Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The first few weeks after the final battle were barely controlled chaos. The Weasley matriarch was constantly moving in at least four different directions at once, trying to simultaneously fuss over Harry at Hogwarts, Fleur at St. Mungos, Tonks and little Teddy at Remus’, and all the other assorted Weasleys, plus Hermione, at the Burrow. For just over a month, the former Horcrux hunter was able to take advantage of her mother’s absences to Apparate to the Tonks’ home in Hampstead for hours at a time without anyone the wiser.

Those brief respites became the only thing that kept her sane. When the house-witch was in Ottery St. Catchpool, she spent as much time scolding and lecturing her youngest as she did cooking and baking, which any Weasley could tell you was a lot of time.

When Harry and Fleur had both fully recovered and Tonks had settled in with Remus and Teddy, attention had turned more fully and more vigorously, towards ‘fixing’ Ginny. On the eve of her seventeenth birthday it was with immeasurable relief that the young witch was dropped off at Hogwarts with a final round of finger wagging and maternal condemnation. The brightness of the twinkle that was aimed at her above half-moon glasses once the older witch was gone forced a smile past gritted teeth.

“Well, my dear, I would hate for such spirited words to go to waste,” the newly re-instated Headmaster said, gesturing with his good hand for her to take a seat in front of his desk. “Shall we begin?”

Her smile grew momentarily at his apparent enjoyment of the dressing-down Molly Weasley had once again tried to give the flamboyantly unrepentant wizard. “Your contribution to the war effort and its successful resolution has been invaluable to myself and our world, Miss Weasley, and so I think it would serve us well if we took some time over the remaining weeks before the start of term to go over what you have accomplished and the unique abilities that allowed you to do so.”

Ginny nodded as this was basically what his owl had said a few days before. When the exact circumstances behind her involvement with the Order had been explained to her parents, they had found several more things to scold her for, especially as it concerned the additional facts that had been kept from them.

She suspected that the implications made that these sessions were in some way geared towards removing the knowledge and memories their daughter carried from the Dark Lord played a large part in their agreeing to let her attend. That and the belief that something she told Dumbledore about her time with the Malfoy heir might reveal his duplicity, prompting the Headmaster to confine the blond and thus save them the effort of keeping her away from him. Whatever the reason they had allowed it, she was just thankful that she was getting out of the house, something that she hadn’t been able to do in weeks.

He seemed to take her small nod as a sign of her enthusiasm and responded with a large smile. “Excellent!”

The elderly wizard brought his hands together above the desktop and she wasn’t quite sure if he was going to clap or rub them together with a maniacal laugh. He did neither, instead standing promptly and picking up a small spinning figurine from the corner of his desk. “You’ll need this, then, my dear.”

One red brow rose quizzically as she took the object he was holding out to her, not noticing until she was holding it that it was carved in the shape of a tiny dragon. Her other brow rose at that realization and she looked up to find him looking back with a knowing and bemused expression that turned outright mischievous when he met her eyes. “I’d hate for you not to have all the details before we discuss your time there, so I thought a trip or two back might benefit our conversations.”

Ginny blinked in surprise but the smile hadn’t finished forming on her face before the port-key activated and she found herself standing in an alley a few houses down from the Tonks’ home. Her smile widened to an open grin when she recognized the opportunities that her scheduled meetings with Dumbledore would be providing. A short laugh spilled out as she walked hurriedly to her destination.

Three minutes later, she was walking into the Tonks’ home to find her boyfriend ensconced at the dinning room table with his friends, surrounded by pop cans, papers, and the apparent idea to start their own business.

“What will you call it, ‘Where Rich Snobs Get a Rush’?”

The four at the table paused, looking up from their energetic discussion with identical shocked expressions, causing Coral to laugh as she closed the door behind the redhead. After a beat of silence, in which the only sound was of a chair scraping against the floor as Draco belatedly stood, Ginny herself started to laugh. The noise broke the others out of their shock and caused snickers to ripple through the group as they processed her suggestion. Soon, before the young wizard could even make it across the room to greet his girlfriend, Carren rubbed a hand absently over what little there was of his hair and looked down at the table with a suddenly contemplative expression.

Ginny and Draco were too focused on each other as he approached to take notice of the other young man’s reaction. A wide smile replaced the shock on the icy-blond’s face as he drew the redhead to him for a short but enthusiastic kiss. “How’d you get away?”

The witch smiled even wider than her boyfriend as she offered a short synopsis of her meeting with the Headmaster. “So it looks like I’ll be able to come twice a week for the rest of the summer.”

Draco expressed his opinion of that idea with a much longer kiss, not pulling away until they were both becoming short of breath. “I assume we’ll be able to come up with some way to pass the time while I’m here,” she said with a subtly coy tone. He started to smirk in response but paused as though something had just occurred to him and began to turn sheepishly back towards the table. Instead of the teasing grins he expected to see aimed at him, his three friends were discussing something animatedly amongst themselves.

He glanced over at the redhead with a look of slight confusion and she in turn raised an inquisitive brow and nodded towards the Muggles as if to encourage him to lead her over towards the increasingly excited chatter. With an arm tightly around her waist, that was exactly what he did, the two of them arriving at the table just in time to hear Blake exclaim, “Perfect!” with a characteristically arrogant tilt of his head.

Before the couple had a chance to ask exactly what was so perfect, Carren shot a pointedly amused grin at the witch. “As the price point and exclusivity of our services will most likely imply both rich and snob it would be somewhat redundant to include it in the name, but otherwise your suggestion has remarkable merit.”

Both russet brows rose in surprise while the blond beside her continued to look at his friends questioningly. Aaron answered him with an excited chuckle. “What do you think of ‘The Rush’ eh Dray?”

The Malfoy heir let out a laugh as he recalled the first conversation he had ever had with these three in the locker room of the dojo. “I think it’s rather apt.”

“And catchy too, yeah?” Carren asked with a smile at the redhead who had unknowingly suggested it.

“The Rush, an adrenaline junkie’s answer to a good time,” the ice blond started with a pleased nod.

Aaron let out a sharp laugh and shook his head at the couple. “And there’s our sale’s pitch in a nutshell. You two work rather well together, maybe we should put you in charge of marketing.”

The proposition was made with a joking tone but the look in the brunette’s narrowed eyes added an air of solemnity to the words which only grew as he turned his full attention to the young woman. “What do you say, Ginny, going to come work for us then?”

The others laughed good-naturedly but all four regarded her with genuine interest in the silence that followed. A pair of grey eyes in particular pinned her with a gleam of anticipation. The youngest Weasley started to laugh and roll her eyes in automatic response, but only a heartbeat passed before she began to seriously think about what it was that she might be doing after she graduated Hogwarts in less than a year. No doubt her parents had her career at the Ministry all planned out but her time with Draco and the Tonks had given her a taste of a life she’d never known she’d wanted until Moody and Dumbledore had thrown her into it head first. Her lips slowly curved into a smile that more than slightly resembled the smirk her boyfriend had always favored.

The table erupted into cheers at the sight and room was immediately made for her amongst the papers and snack debris. Within moments Ginny was immersed in the many and varied ideas and plans the four had been concocting over the last several weeks. The time allotted for her meeting with the Headmaster flew by with animated chatter, lighthearted arguments, and a lot of laughter and junk food.

It was with extreme reluctance that she left the Tonks house that afternoon and barely containable excitement that she returned several days later. Many of the hours she spent there over the remainder of her summer vacation were spent alone with her new boyfriend of course, but many others were occupied with business proposals and marketing analyses and she loved every minute.

Her carefree time with Draco, Aaron, Blake and Carren was in direct contrast to the tense and awkward time she spent at home, especially when Harry and Hermione were visiting with her brother. The months that had passed since the end of the war had done nothing to lessen the unanimous disapproval being directed at the Weasley daughter, though at least some members of the family had stopped voicing their opinions every time she entered the room. Ron and her mother were certainly not among that number. Harry and Hermione were another category entirely as they had taken to ignoring her almost entirely. Harry in particular was mulishly silent whenever she was around.

Ginny had tried to speak to her ex-boyfriend the first time she had seen him at the Burrow but the conversation had been awkward in the extreme and stilted to the point of non existent. She would have been thankful for the start of her seventh year and the opportunity to escape the heavy discomfort in the Burrow if not for the fact that it also meant a stop to her visits to Hampstead. The offer of a job was not forgotten however, nor was her possible input ignored in her absence. Half of the letters she received almost daily from the owl she had left with Draco at their last meeting included revised plans and specific questions for her in regards to the ongoing formation of The Rush.

It was in fact those letters, and the decidedly less business oriented missives she exchanged with her boyfriend, that made her lonely last year at Hogwarts bearable for the young witch. A few of the early owls brushed on Draco’s reaction to the official announcement that his parents were dead and had been since moments after he had been supposedly killed by ‘Snape’ for his failure on the tower. Others talked of the tedious process of Wizarding inheritance law and the blond’s subsequent liquidation of the vast Malfoy assets and investments.

Despite the somber subject matter, they had a rather good time coming up with ways to go about selling off his financial stake in the Wizarding World and re-establishing him in the Muggle one. The new head of the Malfoy family took great delight in pulling out of shady businesses and pureblood only investments only to sell them to any half-blood or Muggleborn who took an interest. Reinvesting his fortune in Muggle companies and stocks, including of course, his own fledgling venture, left the former Slytherin immensely satisfied.

That satisfaction was mirrored by his girlfriend, the redhead feeling quite relieved at how well he was settling in and how much a part of the process she had managed to be. Even knowing how very much he wanted to start over away from magic and the Malfoy name, she had nursed a tiny fear that he would regret his decision, or worse yet, that following through with it would create distance between them. The only distance that existed, however, was the physical one between Hogwarts and Hampstead and they both did their very best to bridge it with an untold number of letters that left their poor owl, who Draco had insisted on calling Adrenaline of all things, with a semi-permanent pout that only dissipated in the face of overt affection and numerous treats. Needless to say, Adrenaline- or Linny for short, was one spoiled owl. But then again, she was practically a Malfoy so it was hardly surprising.

End Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

The openly excited and hopeful air that infused Draco’s letters as the year wore on imparted an almost jealous optimism in the seventeen year-old that was hard for her to hide. Especially around someone as observant as Hermione Granger. While the former Horcrux hunter hadn’t really patched up her previous friendship with the other witch, the Muggleborn had been the only one Ginny had known well enough to ask permission to use her telephone during the interminable Christmas break. So the redhead had swallowed her discomfort and requested the favor when the curly-haired witch had said she was going to visit her parents for the holiday.

She could only assume that it was curiosity more than anything else that had led Hermione to agree, and at the time she had been so desperate to escape the Burrow and speak with her boyfriend that she hadn’t cared. While they had been communicating by owl all term at school, she knew that her post was being censored by her parents while she was at home and so curiosity was a small price to pay. However, as she hung up the phone with a wide smile and wistful sigh only to meet the brunette’s determined gaze, Ginny considered revising that opinion.

“Exactly what apartment are you going to see? And what is Malfoy doing renting an office in London? And why on earth are you talking about brochures and advertising budgets? You’re not thinking of selling your brothers’ stuff to Muggles under the table are you? That’s illegal you know.” The list of questions was delivered in a scolding tone that caused the younger witch to sigh in an entirely different manner than she had before.

Knowing that she had no hope of dissuading or redirecting Hermione’s curiosity once it was piqued, Ginny simply gave in and answered the questions in the hope that doing so would prevent a more extensive inquisition.

“Draco moved into an apartment with his mates last month and I obviously haven’t had a chance to see it yet so he was telling me a bit of what they’ve done to the place. The office will potentially be for the company they’re starting and he wanted my opinion on the pictures he’d sent me of it and the other space they had been looking at last week. As for the marketing plans, I’ve been going over several versions with Aaron for months and he wanted to know if I would be able to do any more research on the latest plan I’ve been putting together while I’m in London.” The ‘not that it’s any of your business’ on the end was left unsaid but based on the narrowing of the second set of brown eyes, it was heard all the same.

“What kind of business,” the witch put a decidedly suspicious note on the word, “is Malfoy starting, who are these mates,” the same tone dripped from that word too as she went on, “and what are you doing designing a marketing plan for them?”

With another, even longer sigh, Ginny took a seat on the Grangers’ sofa and began to explain The Rush. So much for sidestepping the inquisition. It took quite a bit of convincing on the redhead’s part but eventually Hermione believed her that Draco Malfoy, of all people, not only had several close Muggle friends, but that he was opening a company with them to offer outings and vacations for adrenaline junkies with money to burn. Or use to jump out of an airplane, as the case may be.

The Smartest Witch of Her Age was hardly a fan of the types of activities the company would be offering but she wasn’t one to discount the idea of research, especially in an area she knew little about. Which was how the youngest Weasley ended up spending a good part of her Christmas break in a public library with Hermione Granger researching small business marketing and discussing her time with the Tonkses and Draco.

By the time she returned to Hogwarts to finish her final year, the younger witch had forged a tentative friendship with her brother’s girlfriend based on something other than the fact that she was Ron’s sister and Harry’s love interest. When Ginny confided that she had every intention of going to work for The Rush after graduation, she was almost surprised that the other girl wasn’t too disapproving. The brunette, after all, knew exactly what it was like to discover a foreign world in which she was more at home than the one she’d been raised in, despite a complete lack of understanding by her family. Understanding was not the only thing that the Weasleys lacked when it came to Ginny’s choice of career upon leaving Hogwarts. Any hint of tolerance, let alone approval, was also completely absent. No argument she made had any effect.

Ginny gripped the edge of the table with one hand and her shrunken luggage with the other as she tried one final time to make her parents understand that she was making a sound decision about her future not just running away to be with the boyfriend they didn’t approve of. “Arithmancy can be applied very successfully to Muggle business, especially to predict marketing strategies. And since it doesn’t actually use magic directly on any component of what is being sold to Muggles it is completely legal. As far as any of them are concerned it’s just another type of maths that uses statistical models to predict probabilities.”

The explanation made absolutely no impact on the expressions of the witch and wizard across from her. Closing her eyes, the redhead finally gave up and listened passively to another round of scolding guilt trips about her horrible and foolish decision, which was sure to bring shame and embarrassment upon the entire Weasley family. When the two had finally run out of ways to tell her she was making a mistake and demanding she settle back into her room where she belonged, the young witch offered a token wave goodbye and Apparated. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar alley near the Tonks home. She had arranged to rent a room from Coral and Garald until she had earned enough at the fledgling enterprise to afford her own flat and she set off for her destination with mounting enthusiasm.

The Tonkses as a whole were welcoming and encouraging to the young redhead. Even Andromeda, Nymphadora – call me Tonks, I don’t care if I’m married now – and Remus Lupin were tentatively but genuinely optimistic about her growing relationship with Draco and her new job at The Rush. The blond wizard, through Coral, had been steadily making overtures to his maternal aunt and cousin even before Ginny had announced in her final letter home from school what she intended to do after graduation. So when Molly had appealed to Andromeda to check in with her late husband’s relatives and keep an eye on Ginny for her, the former Black sister was happy to do so.

Soon enough Andromeda, as well as Tonks, Lupin and little Teddy, were a common sight in Hampstead. Andromeda was often to be found sitting with Coral doing anything from baking to gossiping. She was there on a weekly basis, including the two weeks that Ginny spent on vacation with Draco, Aaron, Blake, and Carren. The redhead wasn’t entirely sure if that was, however, because of how much Andromeda enjoyed the other woman’s company or if it was in an effort to disguise the fact that Ginny was in fact, not currently at the Tonks’ house.

Based merely on the fact that the former Gryffindor had not received multiple howlers upon her return, it was obvious that the vacation itself had been conveniently left out of whatever information Andromeda and Tonks were passing along to the Weasley matriarch. She could only assume that other smaller pieces of information were also not making their way to her mother as the frequency and length of her almost daily visits to the warehouse apartment that Draco shared with his business partners would have almost been equally likely to have resulted in numerous howlers over the course of the previous months.

The witches were, of course, passing on a fair amount of intel in what Ginny could only assume was an attempt to alleviate some of Molly’s concerns. Based on the recent lectures that she had received from her parents and brothers, her family was at least aware of the former Slytherin’s living arrangements, if nothing else. Ginny knew that Andromeda, Tonks, and Remus were all personally reassured by what they had learned in regards to the redhead’s situation. The first visit that Tonks had made with her to Draco’s flat had gone even better than the younger witch had hoped for at the time.

Not that she had thought it would go badly, the four teens weren’t living in squalor, but the large open-plan flat converted from an old warehouse was obviously a bachelor pad. Any young mother Ginny could imagine would have been at least partly dismayed by the half dozen motorbikes parked between the fully stocked bar and the pool table. The sheer apoplectic fit that Molly Weasley would have thrown at the sight, special mats to collect any oil not withstanding, would have echoed off the marble floor and high ceilings for hours after her hasty departure. Yet Tonks simply eyed the high-end racing bikes with a raised brow an exasperated utterance of “priorities?” that made all the guys laugh loudly.

The amusement had stretched for most of the visit as Draco and the others sifted back and forth between flirting with the pink-haired Auror and conducting a serious discussion amongst themselves about the company’s next scheduled outing. Tonks had found the entire day more than enlightening. The metamorphmagus had known, of course, that her cousin felt comfortable in the Muggle world, he obviously preferred it enough to make the move permanent, but it wasn’t until seeing him in his new element that she had truly understood how at home he was there.

Tonks and the others had found his living arrangements and the time that Ginny spent there to be evidence of the couple’s maturity and genuine relationship. The impression had also been further reinforced when each of the older individuals had visited Ginny at work. Remus in particular found the business to be intriguing, though he had shown no real interest in actually participating in the services that The Rush offered. His wife on the other hand, seemed as if she might enjoy going on one of the outings, though so far she had only accompanied Ginny who, for the most part, worked out of the offices.

The offices themselves had been one of the first non-advertising tasks which had benefited from the redhead’s skills. She had used arithmantic equations to evaluate the three locations they had considered, calculating each one’s potential for its proximity to the owners’ flat, possible clients, ease of access, and associated locations such as other shops or attractions that might house their target audience or expose them to advertising opportunities like music festivals or martial arts exhibitions. Ginny had also, as the company got up and running, helped to determine which types of services to offer at which point, when to switch them out, how much equipment to have on hand or to order, and many other things besides.

Despite all these tasks, the witch also found time to occasionally go on some of the events, especially when there were multiple excursions occurring simultaneously and another pair of hands would be needed. When possible she would also tag along if she wasn’t needed at the office, just for the opportunity to brush up on her skills, which she found to be markedly more enjoyable when she didn’t have a life or death mission hanging in the balance. They also found that having her there when there were female clients sometimes made them feel a little more at ease.

All of these factors were in play one day about two months after she had officially started full time. The number of clients that had attended the outing, some of whom had been female, had made her presence welcome but wasn’t so great as to leave her with no time to enjoy herself as well. It had been a very productive day all around. The status of the client – a large company who’s executives had wanted a day of high-dollar, high-risk fun masquerading as a pusedo-trust-building exercise – was a coup for The Rush if only for the exposure it would gain them through word of mouth and possible referrals. But for Ginny personally, the adrenaline packed day had done wonders for her mood. Her attitude for the last two days had been less than stellar following a visit to the Burrow.

It had been something that couldn’t easily be avoided: the announcement of Fleur’s second pregnancy. Despite the tense relationship she now shared with her parents and several brothers, Bill remained one of the more understanding and supportive of her family members and she had wanted to be there for him. Though in hindsight, it might have been better for her to simply have sent a gift and visited the happy couple another time.

It hadn’t started out terrible. It had, in fact, been nice to see Bill, Fleur, little Victorie, and even Charlie, who had also made the effort to attend. Visiting with the majority of the rest of her family had been much less of a highlight, seeing as both of her parents, Ron and Percy, had spent hours peppering in derogatory comments referring to Draco, Ginny, their relationship, and her choice of job. It had ranged from subtle innuendo to blatant insults and accusations, the worst of which had resulted in a yelling match between the two youngest Weasleys and their mother.

“And you’re dressed to work there are you? What are you wearing? It’s hardly professional, though it’s not as if you work at a real job at the Ministry like a respectable witch. How could you, letting yourself be sullied by a horrible boy like that? You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady. Ashamed!”

The shrieking condemnation of Draco and her relationship with him had lost neither volume nor vehemence by the time their recent cohabitation had been brought to the field, so to say, with a red-faced exclamation of “Inappropriate to say the least! How can you shame your family with such a disgraceful arrangement? I can hardly show my face…”

Ron had soon joined in, as had Percy, with a recitation of the embarrassment they had suffered because their sister had dared to not only associate, but live with, a known Death Eater. And unmarried. “Bad enough you’ve shacked up with that ferret, but to be his- his scarlet woman; how could you?” Her youngest brother’s two best friends had refrained from adding to the shouts but had certainly said and did nothing to disagree or even calm the third member of the Golden Trio.

By the time the word disgraceful had made its sixth appearance in the conversation, the only female offspring of Molly and Arthur Weasley had jumped to her feet and screamed, “Fine! If it’s so disgraceful to live together unmarried maybe we should just get married then!” The uproar that resulted had only been cut off by the loud crack of her Apparating away.

Needless to say, the redhead had had quite a bit of pent-up energy to release and the cliff jumping had been just the ticket to help her unwind. Even with her nerves no longer frayed, however, she wasn’t her normal talkative self as the group returned to the offices to put away the last of the equipment. The blond kept himself from saying anything about it, trying his best to give her space to deal with the fallout but as the others headed back to their flat to get ready for the working dinner they’d all scheduled that night, he finally broke down and asked.

“What was it this time, your job, the company itself, me, or the fact that we actually dared to move in together?”

She let out a humorless laugh followed by a deep sigh and a smile that was as much a grimace as anything else. “All of the above?”

He gave a sigh of his own as he gathered her close and listened to her rehash the worst of the day, only placing the occasional kiss silently to her head, neck, or shoulder as she got it all off her chest. “I’m sorry, Gin,” he finally whispered into her hair once she’d finished.

She drew back just far enough to meet grey eyes with brown. “It’s hardly unexpected, we both know they’ll never really get comfortable with the idea of us. I think it would probably be best if I kept my distance for a while, have Tonks or Andromeda keep an eye out for at least one of them pulling their head out of their bum before I try to talk to them again.”

Draco’s chuckle was only marginally lighter than the sound she had made at the start of the conversation and he gently brushed the hair away from her face to hold it steady as he examined her face in detail. “Are you sure? I don’t want to-”

She cut him off with a long kiss. “You’re not,” she assured him. “They are the ones forcing the issue. Now, let’s just let it all go and get ready for dinner. If we’re late Aaron will never let us hear the end of it.”

The former wizard laughed with actual humor then. “He’s hardly one to talk, after last week. He and what’s her name were almost an hour late, and by the look of them, it was hardly rocket science to guess why.”

The couple entertained themselves with a biting, if lighthearted, commentary on their friends’ various girlfriends as they showered and changed. Both were still laughing when they arrived at the restaurant two minutes after the reservation time to find most of the others already ensconced at a secluded table with drinks in hand. Well, except for Carren, who was instead holding a stack of photographs.

“Ohh,” the redhead said excitedly as they sat down. “Are those from vacation?”

The taciturn young man nodded and handed over the prints that had been made from the various helmet cameras they had all worn on their recent white-water rafting trip. “Some of them are a bit blurry and such, but there are some really good ones. I’m not sure which cameras they’re from though.”

Ginny exchanged a quick glance with her boyfriend, the couple having a pretty good idea which cameras had managed, almost by magic, to catch clear steady shots from atop helmets of daredevils in canoes rushing through white water. Instead of commenting on that, she and Draco sifted through the images, ohhing, ahhing, and laughing more than a little as they examined the various shots. “I think this one is my favorite,” she said as Aaron finally joined his co-owners at the table and the waiter came to take the group’s order.

Once orders were placed and everyone had a glass of wine, the pictures were once more the topic of conversation as each of them pointed out the ones they liked best. The shot Ginny had singled out proved to be the overall winner and they placed it in the middle of the table, admiring the way the view from the last canoe had caught the line of others in front of it as the group made their way down a steep series of rapids that wrapped around a narrow bend in the river.

“It’s a great action shot,” Draco agreed. The witch chimed in immediately, pointing with her fork to emphasize her point.

“It would be perfect on one of the new pamphlets, or up on the wall in the office.”

As conversation evolved from there into future activities that they should get pictures of for the next round of advertising, the redhead leaned back and surveyed the table of friends and coworkers laughing their way through a wonderful meal that happened to also be a business meeting. Nearly her entire family might think that she had made a terrible series of decisions about her life since the war, but in that moment she was positive she had done exactly the right thing. Aaron interrupted that self satisfied train of thought with a smirking comment that reminded her of a conversation they’d had when she was first learning to jump out of an airplane without having a complete panic attack.

“See,” he stated confidently, “I knew you were one of us.”

She laughed brightly, drawing Draco’s attention as she responded with a nod and a roll of her eyes. When the ice-blond met her gaze, however, she had to admit with complete honesty that Aaron had in fact been right. She was one of them, and because of more than just the fact that she had come to thrive on the adrenaline and near stupidity that was so often featured in everything this group of young men did. She fit here, with this Pureblood former wizard and his snobby, reckless group of friends.

“Enjoying yourself?” The question was whispered in her ear as Draco pulled her chair closer to his and offered her a bite of his meal. She took the bite with a smile, chewing and swallowing the delicious food before responding just as quietly as the laughter around them only grew.

“I am,” the redhead assured him, not missing the shadow of concern in his grey eyes. “I am exactly where I want to be.”

He held her gaze for a long heartbeat, then leaned forward to cover her lips with his. The kiss was deep, and sweeter than the dessert that was even then being placed before them. It was short lived, however, as Blake interrupted with an overly dramatic groan.

“Seriously, guys? We’re trying to eat here.” Neither witch nor wizard, as they pulled away from each other, was the least bit repentant.

End Chapter Twenty-Seven
End Story