1.

It makes us or it mars us: think on that,

And fix most firm thy resolution.

– Othello V.i

There was something about the fact that it was first thing in the morning that made the break room even more depressing than usual. Generally, Ginny would endeavour to take her breaks pretty much anywhere other than the specified room at the Auror Office, but she did appreciate the constant supply of free coffee in there, particularly on her arrival each day.

With a yawn and a final moment of grogginess she headed out on to the main floor of the department towards her cubicle. Her next-door neighbour, Neville, was sitting at his desk, feet on the table, charming a paper swan to fly around the room.

'Making excellent use of this time, I see,' Ginny commented as she sat down on her chair, carefully ignoring the pile of paperwork for the time being.

'I'm mid-case, Ginny,' said Neville, as though that explained everything.

'You'll regret these moments when you close it.'

'Having seen the state of your desk, I'm going to make a guess that you're speaking from experience.'

'Why, Neville,' said Ginny, feigning delight, 'it's things like this that make you fantastic at this job.'

He laughed a little. 'Yeah, yeah.'

'Seriously though,' said Ginny, 'do your paperwork while you have the chance.' She turned towards her desk in trepidation. 'All right. I am halving this today.' She downed the last of her coffee. 'I definitely am.' She reached for the first, most urgent piece of paper.

'Weasley!'

Ah. Well, if Savage was calling her then she couldn't do it. Drat. With a grin in Neville's direction she headed off to the Head Auror's office, hoping that whatever this was about wasn't something that would make her long for paperwork.

Savage was behind her desk, pacing up and down, all mad black hair and crinkled up robes. She had been a surprising choice for Head Auror after the war by anyone's estimation, but they'd trusted Kingsley's judgement; whilst she may have been as mad as a box of Doxies, she certainly got the job done.

'Everything all right, Savage?' asked Ginny, closing the door behind her. 'I was just catching up on paperwork.'

'That can wait,' said Savage; it took all the self-control Ginny could muster not to punch the air in triumph. 'We've got a situation that we need to resolve as quietly as possible.'

'I'm not really one for quiet, but I'll give it a go.' Savage gave her a look that told her to cut the messing about. 'I mean, what's the situation?'

'There's been a robbery at Gringotts; a dark object in the Goblins' possession has been removed. They want to get it back – and have the culprits dealt with – before the press gets wind of it. Ideally, without the press getting wind of it at all.'

Ginny was rather taken aback by this explanation as it sounded like it was a fairly important case. Until now the only cases she'd handled solo were generally those involving petty criminals, though to be honest, the low pressure and high success rate had proven very enjoyable.

'So will I be seconding with someone else on this or...?'

Savage sighed and Ginny got the distinct impression that she had been highly inconvenienced. 'The Goblins want to handle this with as little external involvement as possible, though they concede they need the invaluable skills of our operatives.' She reached for a flask that was on the desk and began unscrewing the top. 'I can't send along someone more senior because they'll see it as interfering; besides which they're busy. Potter and Longbottom would attract too much press. That leaves you.' So she had got the case by process of elimination, great. Savage gave her a long, hard look as the foul smell of the flask's contents filled the room. 'I know that makes the case seem unimportant, but it's not. I'm very worried. We need this object back safely in Gringotts before people start getting killed.'

'I'll do my best.'

'If it was up to me they'd destroy the damn thing,' said Savage, before taking a long gulp of what Ginny could now see was thick orange liquid. 'But the Goblins feel it's an asset.'

'So I'll take the lead and report back to you as much as possible, then,' said Ginny, trying to phrase it as a statement rather than a question.

'Yes,' replied Savage with a nod. 'I think that Gringotts will demand that you work in partnership with one of theirs, but don't let that stop you from working as normal; you're a trained Auror and you have the rights and privileges of one.' Ginny nodded. 'So get on with it, Weasley. Get down to Gringotts and make me look good.'

*

Ginny had never felt intimidated by Gringotts, with its marble floors and air of unachievable grandeur. She'd never allowed herself to be intimidated by the Goblins and their austere way of relating to wizards. She wasn't going to start now. Without taking much notice of those around her, Ginny marched right passed the queue and up to the front desk.

'My name is Weasley,' she said, ignoring the protests of the matronly woman behind her. 'The Ministry sent me.'

'I see,' said the Goblin casually. 'Is there anyone specific you're here to see? Do you have an appointment?'

'I'm from the Auror Office,' said Ginny, keeping her voice low. 'I'm expected.'

The moment of realisation in the Goblin's eyes was almost imperceptible. 'Follow me,' he said, after a moment. Ginny did so, silently lamenting that Goblins moved so damn slowly; it was bound to hold her up on the case. She had a vision of herself running from dark wizards, having to stop to wait for a Goblin partner, or worse, carry him.

On previous visits to the bank she had only seen the main floor or the vaults below, but now the goblin led her up a spiral staircase. On the second floor they branched off down a corridor and stopped outside a door labelled 'Meeting Room 2'.

'In there,' grunted the Goblin, pointing towards the room, before shuffling off towards the staircase again.

Right then. Ginny knocked on the door but didn't bother to get a response before walking inside. She had expected to find a few Goblins ready to brief her; what she found instead was decidedly human.

'Weasley, what a surprising surprise,' said the man in front of her dryly. Ginny yearned for her paperwork. Because whilst the occupant of Meeting Room 2 was decidedly human, he was also decidedly Malfoy. At least he could run, she supposed.

'Isn't it?' she said, the wind knocked out of her to the extent that she had no real retort.

He had been leaning against the windowsill but made towards the large conference table now, gesturing for her to sit opposite him. She moved to do so, eyeing him curiously as she did so; he'd changed, physically. Whilst at school his pallor had often seemed almost sickly, it was now healthy, as though he'd spent a lot of time in the sun but without being tanned. His hair was still blonder than she though could really be natural and looked soft, not full of the potions all the boys had been known to use at school. His features seemed chiselled, not pointed. But his eyes had not changed – they remained a constant piercing grey. Ginny adjusted her chair and glanced about the room, conscious of staring.

'I had hoped they'd send one of you lot,' he said. 'It'll be much more interesting than if they'd sent along a random.'

Ginny found herself very confused. She hadn't heard anything of Malfoy in a few years now; surely Bill would have mentioned that he was working at Gringotts? Maybe it was his vault that had been robbed.

'You look a bit lost, Weasley.'

'Well,' said Ginny, 'to begin with, no one has actually told me what's been stolen yet. But also, I'm wondering what you're doing here, to be honest.'

Malfoy grinned. 'I work here,' he said, with a satisfied air. 'Well, usually I'm not here.' He glanced around the room briefly. 'This place is as boring as Quodpot. I should say, I work for Gringotts.'

'Should I ask what it is you do exactly?' Ginny asked, already annoyed with his self-importance. 'Or would that result in my needing to arrest you?'

'I'm a curse-breaker.' He looked at her as though expecting some kind of overblown response. Maybe he didn't know Bill used to be a curse-breaker; whilst she had idolised him when she was younger (still did, in many ways), she found that as she got older her knowledge of his job made her feel less impressed by it than most people. If she had been impressed, she wouldn't have let Malfoy know anyway. Besides, she had her own glamorous job.

'I take it you're going to be working with me on this case?' she said instead.

'I wouldn't put it that way.'

His smirk was disconcerting. Ginny couldn't help herself: 'How would you put it, then?'

'I'll be in more of a supervisory role.'

'I see,' she said. It was not worth rising to, it just wasn't. 'So, to the matter at hand.'

Malfoy cleared his throat and shuffled some papers in front of him. It was as though everything from his formal clothes down to his mannerisms were for effect; strange, considering overdressing and acting superior were two of the first traits that came to mind when she thought of him.

'Right,' he said at last. 'How much do you know about Herpo the Foul?'

'A fair bit,' said Ginny. She didn't think he was patronising her but the idea that she might not know anything on this topic was bizarre. 'I am an Auror, you know. We tend to know a quite a lot about dark wizards.'

'I was just asking, he's not exactly contemporary.' He rolled his eyes. 'Anyway, Gringotts have been in possession of a few Herpo related items for some time now.'

Ginny furrowed her brow. 'That's not really legal, surely?'

'They have historical value. We've got all the permits and everything, as if we'd call you lot in if we didn't.'

'Okay,' said Ginny, going full into Case Mode now she was getting some information. 'What's been taken?'

Malfoy slid a picture across the desk towards her. 'His athame,' he said. 'They left everything else; we've got his staff, various items embellished with snakes, even a Basilisk fang, but they only took this.'

Ginny looked at the picture closely. It was a knife, not very large, but black from tip to hilt. There were inscriptions on it in what looked like ancient Greek. Athames in themselves were ritualistic items, but looking at this one in particular it was very clear.

'What is it with dark wizards and snakes?' she asked at last.

'Sorry?' Malfoy responded. He looked surprised that this was her first thought and perhaps mildly offended – which was, of course, her intention.

'They all love snakes. Well, not so much the petty criminals, but the dark overlord types.'

'I think you're basing this on very limited information,' said Malfoy. 'It's besides the point.'

'Maybe it's a masculinity thing,' she said, thoughtfully. 'You know, phallic symbols and that. Maybe it's overcompensation.' Malfoy looked dumbfounded. 'You were a Death Eater, Malfoy, you must have some insight.'

'Weasley, that has nothing to do with this. The past is past.'

'So stop lording it up over me. I'm the Auror here, if anyone should be in charge, it's me.' He didn't argue, just looked so like the sullen boy she remembered from school. 'But we'll sort this out as equals,' she said. He made to protest, so she added firmly: 'We're equals, or I keep talking about Voldemort's cock.'

'Fine,' said Malfoy. 'I suppose this will be over more quickly if we play by one another's strengths.'

'Exactly,' Ginny said with a nod, though she wasn't exactly doing cartwheels over the concept of working with him for any length of time at all. 'So the athame was taken but everything else left behind. I'm assuming there were other valuable dark objects in there?'

Malfoy nodded. 'I was somewhat startled that's what they went for. There are more obvious things to take; there are things that would be more immediately useful for in the Dark Arts.'

'I'll need a list of everyone who had access to that vault – Goblins included – and a list of everyone who might be allowed into that area.'

'That shouldn't be a problem. I'll make it clear that the information is to discount the individuals on said list, though.'

'That's your prerogative, Malfoy. In the meantime,' she hesitated, 'I'd like to take a look at the vault itself.'

*

By the end of the day Ginny had discovered that Malfoy intended to take their partnership completely seriously, though she suspected that this seriousness may have been a private joke to a certain extent. After they'd examined the vault (completely pointless, neither of them had much idea exactly what they were looking at or how it had been breached) Ginny headed back to the Auror Office, Malfoy trailing behind her, telling stories about some of the curses he'd had to break in his time and how he'd faced threats larger than this with much less fanfare.

Savage and Neville were pouring over documents in his cubicle, but looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Neville was visibly taken aback to see Malfoy walking confidently along beside Ginny, but if Savage recognised him she didn't show it.

'Mr. Malfoy here works for Gringotts,' said Ginny as they arrived at her cubicle.

'Curse-breaker,' Malfoy added, extending a hand to Savage. She took it suspiciously.

'They've assigned him to me for the case. He insisted on accompanying me back to the office.'

'I though it was important to introduce myself, Auror Savage.'

'It's not,' she said and with this comment it appeared that Malfoy flickered out of existence to her. Ginny smirked. 'Weasley, if you need to conduct your investigation with the help of external sources, can you do it from somewhere else? There's a lot of confidential material here and we don't want it to fall into the wrong hands, do we?'

'We do not,' Ginny agreed. 'I was just coming to collect everything I'll need for the next few days. I don't think it should take much longer than that.' In truth, Ginny had no idea how long it would take her to close the case, or in fact if she could close it at all, since she had absolutely no leads. However, she knew Savage well enough to know not to admit this.

'I'll need you for the team meeting in the morning,' said Savage, walking off without waiting for a response from Ginny.

Neville threw his hands up in frustration. 'Great. I actually wasn't finished asking about this, but it's fine, I'll stumble on alone.'

Ginny looked at him sympathetically. 'Sorry, Neville,' she said, 'I'd stay and help but...' she motioned her head towards Malfoy.

'It's fine,' said Neville. 'I'll see if Harry's got a minute.' He wandered off looking as lost as ever. Ginny worried about him; he'd taken the job in the Auror office as an extension of what he'd done in the war. She thought maybe he stayed for the wrong reasons. It wasn't that he was no good at the job, because he was, it was that he didn't seem to enjoy it anymore. Ginny, meanwhile, got a thrill from being an Auror – when she wasn't tied to her desk filling out paperwork, that is. Now, thanks to Malfoy, she was leaving the office behind. The coffee wasn't free at home, but it was quieter and comforting.

'Malfoy, you've actually done me a favour,' said Ginny, passing him a box full of things she'd need at home. 'I never thought I'd be escaping this place any time soon.'

'I have my uses,' he said. 'So will I be coming back to your house? Do you still live with your parents?' He asked. Then, almost to himself, added, 'Will they try to curse me?'

'No, I don't live with my parents, no, they wouldn't curse you – though I'd steer clear of my brothers – and yes, you will probably have to come to my house.'

They headed back out of the Auror office towards the lifts. It felt quite empowering, having Malfoy trailing behind her, carrying her things, Ginny thought. He was trying to seem confident, she could tell, but being inside the Ministry along with Savage's frosty reception had shaken him. Ginny felt badly about this for a moment, she had brought him here, after all, but soon decided that if he wanted to let these things bother him then it was his decision. She'd not been intimidated in Gringotts, after all. Of course, she'd never been on trial for being a Death Eater in Gringotts, whereas Malfoy had spent a good few weeks in the courtrooms of the Ministry. As they stood waiting at the lift, she saw him tugging at his left sleeve out of the corner of her eye; the Mark must still be visible, then.

The lift was empty except for a small Muggle Relations Officer, who was reading a Muggle tabloid with a perplexed look on his face. Ginny got in, Malfoy following obediently. Awkward silence reigned as the lift began to head down towards the Atrium.

Ginny cleared her throat. 'We should probably take all of this stuff back to mine, actually,' she said. 'How do you prefer to travel?'

'Well, broom when I can,' he said, 'but between these boxes and this suit...'

'Right,' said Ginny with a curt nod. 'Me too. I hate Apparating, to be honest with you. I avoid it where possible.'

'I wouldn't know where we're going anyway.'

'I suppose there's an upside in that you could leave a limb behind..'

'Floo?'

'Do you want to go to the pub before we do?' asked Ginny, realising too late that it sounded like a rather sociable invitation. Were it any other man she'd have feared he'd think it was a date. 'I'm a bit tired for travelling, just yet,' she added.

'Sounds like a good idea.'

The Leaky Cauldron was reasonably busy, which wasn't a surprise on a Wednesday lunchtime. Ginny surveyed the room, then led Malfoy to a table in a quiet corner. She put her bag down on the sofa-seat against the wall, leaving him to take the uncomfortable wooden chair on the other side.

'What are you having?' Ginny asked. Malfoy seemed to ponder this question as he took off his jacket and hanged it over the back of his chair.

'A mead, I think,' he said, at last.

Ginny nodded and went off to the bar, where she found Hannah Abbott polishing glasses, looking bored. Hannah had started working at the pub after Hogwarts as something to tide her over, but still found herself there. She was easily the most popular barmaid with the regulars.

'Ginny Weasley, it's been at least two days since you were last here,' said Hannah, putting the glass she was polishing on the shelf.

'I don't like to Floo on an empty stomach, Hannah, you know me.'

'Well if you want to Floo you won't be able to do it any time soon,' said Hannah, 'haven't you heard? The Network's down.'

'You're joking,' said Ginny.

'I wish I was.' Hannah looked about the room. 'It's dead in here for a lunchtime. People are always Floo-ing to and fro at this time but I guess if they've got to get on a broom or book a Portkey they're just going to leave it. Anyway, what can I get you?'

'Two meads,' said Ginny, with a sigh. 'Mulled, if you can.'

'Of course I can, my dear.'

As Hannah went off to get the drinks Ginny glanced over to the corner where Malfoy was sat. He was charming the beer mats to fight. She knew there was only going to be one way to get them both back to her house and it was the one form of travel she hated more than Apparition.

'Don't bite your nails,' said Hannah, putting the mugs of mead down on the bar.

'I didn't even realise I was,' said Ginny. She let out a noise of frustration. 'Damn Floo Network.'

She paid Hannah, apologised for her strange mood and carried the mead over to Malfoy, worrying she'd spill it and burn her hands all the while. For Ginny, the only thing that smelled more like Christmas than mulled mead was mulled wine. Pity then that it was February.

'Bad news,' said Ginny as she placed Malfoy's mug in front of him and took her own seat.

'Oh?'

'Floo Network's down.'

'Oh.' Malfoy looked thoughtful. 'Portkey?'

'It's too late to book one and I can't create them to save my life.'

'Then … side-along Apparition?'

Ginny nodded. 'I'm afraid so. I'd avoid it if I could but,' she took a deep breath, 'the case comes first. Always.'

Malfoy didn't say anything in response to this, just nodded and took a sip of his mead. They sat in silence. Ginny let the warmth of the drink and of the alcohol within it spread through her.

'You know,' she said, after the silence became too much to bear, 'you don't need to come back to mine. We'll reconvene tomorrow.'

'Weasley, I'm not happy about this either,' said Malfoy. Ginny opened her mouth to protest but he pressed on. 'Don't you think there are things I'd rather be doing? There are reasons that I'm back in the country that pertain to my real job. I'd like to get back to that. I don't want to be loitering around the bank, waiting for you to turn up.'

'You won't be, I'm just saying …' she trailed off. What was she saying? That she'd prefer to work alone, that she didn't need a handsome man following her around, sticking his nose in, thinking he knew everything. She'd had enough of that in her life already. 'Look, I don't think you and I were the best choices to work together, that's all.'

'Neither do I,' he nodded, 'but as we agreed in the office, this will work better if we play to our strengths. Whether you like it or not, I'm a curse-breaker, a good one too. You need me on this case. Not just as someone the goblins sent to spy on the investigation, not just as someone who gets in your way, but as someone who knows this stuff. I know it.'

'You've changed, Malfoy,' said Ginny, knocking back the last of her mead. 'The boy I knew at school would have knocked me out and taken everything in those boxes by now, or else run off as soon as I offered him an out.'

He smirked, looking down into his mug, not meeting her eyes. 'Maybe so,' he said, 'but you seemed to like that boy well enough in his seventh year.'

Ginny felt like she'd been punched in the chest. 'What?'

'Let me set the scene for you: It was two nights after the Dark Lord's defeat. I was alone in The Three Broomsticks and very drunk. You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? You thought I was too drunk to remember.' He looked at her now, his grey eyes intense but mischievous; he was relishing this moment. 'You approached me; I remember thinking at the time that you must have been drinking for two days straight. You were a mess.'

Ginny was frozen. She knew what came next but she didn't know if she could bear to hear it. Her heart was racing and she could feel herself flushing red.

'I'd seen you across the bar, alternately celebrating and mourning. I knew you felt the same as me: guilty to be alive. So when you sought me out as I left the pub I wasn't surprised. I thought I'd take you to bed.'

'You didn't,' said Ginny, quickly.

'Though it wasn't for a lack of trying on your part, was it?' he grinned. Ginny felt sick. 'Do you remember what you said to me? The only thing you said?'

'That you weren't so bad after all.'

'No,' Malfoy corrected, 'that you had known all along I wasn't so bad. Which is something quite different.' He finished his drink, setting the mug down in the middle of the table, then looked her straight in the eyes. 'I never told anyone about that. I didn't think it was fair. So Ginny, you're right; I've changed. Just maybe not as much as you think.'

She felt as though it was the morning after that night all over again; the shame was almost overpowering. She had been so convinced that he didn't remember, had been so certain no one knew, that she had barely given it a second thought for the last couple of years. Even when faced with Malfoy she had not though that he would remember; she had put it aside so long ago that she hardly remembered herself.

'See, now this is all awkward,' she said at last. 'You were hardly a paragon of virtue that evening, either.'

'I never said that I was. I admitted that I'd wanted to have sex with you, to,' he let out a mock gasp of horror, 'take advantage of you.'

'True.' She drummed her fingers on the table. 'Shall we get going and get on with this case, then?'

Malfoy laughed. 'You just can't wait to take me home, now, can you?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Shut up,' she said playfully. 'I'm going to blame it on being a drunken hormonal teenager, okay? Can we set it aside and go on pretending it never happened?'

'For now,' he said, a sly look in his eyes.

They left the pub exchanging knowing glances, smiles and rolled eyes. It struck Ginny that the things unspoken between them had been shadowing over them all morning, because with them out of the way, she felt much more at ease in Malfoy's company. She even felt okay about finding him attractive, since he'd implied that he felt the same towards her. They were never going to make sense as a team, she thought, but at least it was easier now – and at least he called her out on her bullshit, which was something she was completely unused to.

Once outside Malfoy led the way to a secluded alley where they could Disapparate. He took Ginny's hand, an apologetic look on his face. She felt incredibly nervous, then felt ridiculous for it; for a start, this was Malfoy, then there was also the fact that she was not thirteen anymore, but a woman of twenty-two. She was grown up now. (She was adept at lying to herself about any number of things.)

'This is sort of dirty,' she said, 'letting you touch me in a dark alley.'

She took a deep breath. Time to go.

2.

Action is eloquence
- Coriolanus III.ii


Ginny had acquired the house on Waterside only two years earlier, though she had lived in it for three. Deeply in love and deeply deluded, she and Harry had decided to move in together. They had chosen the house itself almost on a whim, having found that a distant relative of Ginny's who lived there had died, leaving the property to a cousin who in turn agreed to sell at a cut down price. Harry bought it. A year later and he'd left; sharing a house with someone who you had put on a pedestal did not turn out to be a good idea.

'Where are we?' asked Malfoy, after they Apparated onto the parkland on the other side of the road from the house. He looked at the river, then at the large building adjacent to the clearing they'd arrived on. 'That's the theatre, I've been here before.' Ginny felt queasy and light-headed from the journey so barely acknowledged him until he asked her a direct question: 'Why on earth do you live in Stratford-upon-Avon?'

'Why not?' She shrugged. 'The journey's the same as if I lived anywhere else. Come on.'

She set off across the grass, through a gap in the bushes and across the road to her house. Down the street a gaggle of school children were being herded by their teachers. Ginny reminded herself that she needed to stop Apparating to this particular patch of grass; though sheltered, it was still risky. Still, she felt almost as giddy as the school children, heading through her garden gate in the middle of the afternoon. It was almost always pitch black both when she left in the morning and also when she arrived back in the evening, especially at this time of year.

The house was only a tiny terrace with one bedroom; it was much more suited to one occupant than two, which probably contributed to the difficulties she and Harry had had in living together. The location was what made the property spectacular. From her bedroom Ginny enjoyed a view of the river Avon and on her doorstep was one of the busiest theatres in the country; in the months after Harry left, Ginny became addicted to the place. She saw The Duchess of Malfi three times in a week, just to wallow in the macabre of the thing. Next, she saw Richard III, which she enjoyed immensely, and Twelfth Night, which she found a ridiculous, though secretly she knew she couldn't enjoy it because she was still bitter and broken-hearted. The night she first saw Julius Caesar was the night she knew she was over Harry.

Another perk of Ginny's home was that it was only a few doors down from a pub. When Harry had been around, they'd gone there for dinner occasionally, or a drink on weekends, but after he left was when she truly began to appreciate The Dirty Duck. She'd eat there when she had forgotten to buy food, she'd pop in for a pint on a sunny Sunday afternoon and soon enough she was a regular. She found it easy enough to talk with Muggles by letting them know from the outset that she was quite eccentric; it came up in most initial conversations that she did not have a television. However, in this town, eccentrics were something they were used to.

The Dirty Duck had been central to most socialising Ginny had done in the months after her split with Harry; it had been here that she had met Richard. He was an actor, which wasn't all that unusual – she had begun to make friends with all sorts of people, but mainly actors, who appeared in the pub regularly for a few weeks or months at a time then left for pastures (and productions) new. No, what was different about Richard was that he was the first person she'd met in Stratford-upon-Avon who hadn't been a Muggle. As far as she was aware in any case. She remembered vividly the first time she saw him; she'd been sat on the wall outside the pub, talking to Luna, who had come to stay for the weekend. He'd come up the steps at the tail of a group of high-spirited actors, having finished rehearsals early to enjoy the sunshine. He'd been tall, handsome and very vaguely familiar. He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat.

Later, he'd pulled up a chair and pronounced that he knew her – she must be Ginny Weasley. He had been friends with Charlie at school and he'd been to the Burrow on a number of occasions but had lost touch with Charlie since he'd gone to Romania. Ginny still didn't recall him, which wasn't too surprising considering how young she must have been; he tried to refresh her memory but to no avail. After a short chat, and a mutual sigh of relief that there were definitely other wizards in town, Richard left the girls to it. She met him again a week later, after the opening night of his play. She was sat at the bar, drinking a glass of wine after a stressful day at the Ministry when he appeared next to her, able to listen, able to distract her.

Afterwards, he walked her to her door. She stood half inside and half out, at a crossroads. Having always believed that it was better to regret doing something than not doing it, she kissed him. After that night, they embarked on a summer fling; it was like something from a dream, just lazy summer days and crazy drunken nights. When the play finished Richard left, as he'd always said he would, gone to America to try out for movies. Ginny missed him at first, but she never cried. She never believed their relationship to be anything more than what it had been; she was proud of herself for keeping her head screwed on.

She thought of Richard each time she caught sight of the pot of daisies on the doorstep, but that was all. Ginny eyed it briefly as she unlocked the door, it looked even more insignificant on this February afternoon, being as it was just a pot of earth. She sighed, pushed open the door and the barking started, as it always did. Malfoy looked apprehensive as he followed Ginny into the hall. She raised an eyebrow at him.

'Not a dog lover?' she asked.

'I'm not a lover of anything that makes noises like that if I can't see it,' he replied. 'Where do you want the box?'

'Just put it on the stairs for now. And it's only Boris, he's harmless.'

She crossed the hall to the kitchen door, opening it to let the dog out, he ran straight by her to Malfoy, jumping up to greet him.

'Boris?' he called over the incessant barking. 'Boris the Beagle?' His tone was dismissive but she noticed he was affectionate with the dog despite himself.

'Don't be mean,' she said, 'he's my baby.'

'Oh, you're one of those girls.' He was looking her up and down now, as though seeing her anew.

She resisted the urge to ask him what he meant because she already knew; she didn't need to listen to him tell her about how lonely and broody she was when that wasn't actually the case. Socially, it seemed to be a dangerous thing for a single woman to get a pet and bond with it; the world assumed it meant that something was missing, that it was a statement of aloneness. Never mind that whole families acquired and fell for animals all the time. So instead of hearing Malfoy enjoy psychoanalysing her – incorrectly psychoanalysing her – she put on the kettle.

'Brew?'

'Please. White, one sugar.'

'Can you grab some parchment?' she asked, taking two mugs from the cupboard. Malfoy rifled through the box, then sat at the table, green quill in hand, looking a little uncomfortable. It was odd having him in her personal space, though Boris seemed to have got over the excitement; he was curled up in his bed, watching them as though they were interrupting nap time.

'We need to write down everything we know as of right now.' Ginny dropped teabags into the mugs, then added half a sugar to Malfoy's. 'Then, I want to think about the logical questions these facts pose.'

'The first one being, “Who stole it?” I suppose,' said Malfoy sarcastically.

'Make fun of my methods if you want,' she said with a shrug, 'but you'll be surprised what doing this turns up.' She poured hot water onto the tea, then stood, leaning against the cupboards, looking at Malfoy expectantly. 'Okay, I'll pick something first. We know that an athame was stolen, we know it was kept in a supposedly secure vault at Gringotts, we know that the goblins believe it to be of historical value.' She paused, both to think and for effect. 'Why? What makes it valuable?'

'It belonged to an ancient wizard of considerable power,' said Malfoy, 'a dark wizard who did things that no one had ever done before. That makes anything to do with him historically important.'

'Agreed.' said Ginny. She didn't like the slight tinge of admiration in Malfoy's voice. 'But what's special about this piece?' She went to the fridge and took out the milk. Malfoy looked at her blankly. 'Why take the knife and nothing else?'

'It can't be for money,' he said. Ginny nodded, pouring milk into their mugs and vanishing the teabags. 'There were things in that vault worth much more. Honestly, there were things in there that I would think were more dangerous.'

'Like what?' She put their mugs on the table, then pulled out a chair, sitting at ninety degrees to him.

'The staff, which – as I'm sure you know, Auror Weasley – is one of the items most people associate with Herpo the Foul.' He looked thoughtful. Ginny took up the discarded quill and made some notes on the things she knew about the case so far. When she looked up at Malfoy, his brow had furrowed all the more.

'What?' she asked.

'I've been all over the place,' he said, 'all over Europe – I've never seen an athame used for Dark magic before.'

'We used them in potions all the time at school,' said Ginny, 'they're an everyday item, which means that they're bound to be used in all sorts of magic.'

'Well, yes,' Malfoy conceded, he seemed to be having difficulty arranging his thoughts and getting his point across. 'What I mean is, I've worked hundreds of digs, cases, investigations, break-ins, whatever you want to call them, and I've seen athames, really valuable ones. But they were never Dark.'

'Have you seen this one, Malfoy?' asked Ginny. 'Do you want me to start on the snake thing again?'

'All I'm saying is that perhaps being completely logical isn't the way to go with this – because a Dark athame is the opposite of logical. I've no idea what its purpose might be, do you?'

Ginny shook her head. 'I dread to think.'

'I would think that if there was an immediate and logical answer, then one of us would know it.'

Ginny thought about this as she sipped her tea. She mulled over Malfoy's argument, which to her surprise made sense. Part of it stuck out to her. 'So, break-ins?' she asked with a grin. 'Let's talk about that.'

He looked very pleased with himself all of a sudden, his trademark smirk playing about his features. 'It's nothing, really,' he said, in such a tone that implied that it was not nothing at all. 'I'm sure you've heard all sorts of exciting stories from your brother.'

'Well, yeah,' said Ginny. 'But just because I've heard one tale of adventure, doesn't mean that I can't hear another.'

'I don't want to risk my job,' he said. 'Or my freedom – I don't know that telling an Auror about some of my exploits is such a good idea.'

'When this is all over, I'm going to get you very drunk and make you tell me all of your secrets.'

He was grinning at her now, causing the butterflies in her stomach to go into overdrive. 'We both know what you're like when you're pissed, Weasley. I think it's much more likely that your secrets will be the ones spilled.'

'I have no secrets,' said Ginny. Malfoy gave her a sceptical look. 'Okay, but they're only small.'

He sipped at his tea. 'You've only put half a sugar in this.'

'You don't need sugar. Really, I'm doing you a favour.' She had now finished off her own drink, so put it in the sink to clean later. 'You know, I think the “why” might be more important than the “who” in this case. If we can decipher why the athame was stolen, I bet we'll be well on the way to figuring out who took it.'

'I have a horrible feeling that we're working against a clock here,' said Malfoy. 'And all we've done so far is sit around drinking.'

'You'd be surprised how much of being an Auror is actually just sitting around drinking. And eating biscuits. Do you want a biscuit?'

'No thanks.'

'Are you sure?' Ginny reached for the tin. Malfoy shook his head. 'Well I'm having a custard cream.' She ate the biscuit, thinking through her next moves. 'We need more insight into the object. I'm going to get some research done,' she said. 'Proper research, I mean. And – are there any other curse-breakers about, ones that might have seen something like this in the past?'

'Not really. I think I might send an owl to a contact I have in Greece, though.'

'Good idea. Herpo-related stuff is bound to come up there a lot. I'll have a word with Bill.'

Silence fell between them. Ginny found that she missed the office; there was scores of Aurors on hand there, ready to give some direction when she was a little lost. The smallest comment from a colleague often helped to crack a case.

'There's something else I like to do to get some grounding on a case, as well,' said Ginny. Malfoy looked at her expectantly. 'I'll explain on the way.'

*

Ginny found what she was looking for in the usual place – Hogsmeade. After only twenty minutes of waiting in an alley outside the Hog's Head, she had Mundungus Fletcher thrown against the damp brick wall, Malfoy's wand to his throat. Ginny stood before him, arms crossed triumphantly, her wand pinning up her hair.

'I think you know the routine by now,' she said.

Mundungus was eyeing Malfoy, clearly taken aback by the pair who had accosted him. He made to step away, but when Ginny lifted a hand up towards her wand he stilled.

'I don't know anything,' he said. Malfoy let out a snort of derision. 'I don't, I'd tell you, I would. Ginny, you know I would.'

'What I know, Fletcher, is that every time I come to see you we do this little dance and eventually you tell me what I want to know.' She took a step towards him. 'That's when I come to you alone. Now I'm here with Malfoy. You know what that means, don't you? A Weasley and a Malfoy coming for you together.'

Mundungus looked between them. 'Something big,' he said. 'But you know I ain't involved in anything like that. Not that important, see.'

'You're right,' Ginny agreed. 'But that doesn't mean you've gone deaf. If something bad happens and I find out you could have helped me in any way at all, I'll take you down, Fletcher. I will bring out every last thing that I have on you – and I've got more than you know.'

'Between you and me,' said Malfoy in a low voice, 'I don't think she's bluffing.'

Silence. Ginny remained looking at Mundungus head on. She knew he'd break any second; he was so pathetically weak. Malfoy dug his wand a little further into Mundungus's throat.

'Well?' asked Ginny. When there was no response, she nodded toward Malfoy.

'Wait,' said Mundungus. 'Wait. I've heard something.'

'I'm listening.'

'Wiltshire. Something's happening there; the Eyes of March.'

Ginny was sceptical. 'The Eyes of March?'

'I think the cretin means Ides,' said Malfoy.

'Maybe that was it.' Mundungus shrugged. 'I heard a bloke in The Leaky Cauldron a few days ago, said he was taking something valuable to Amesbury, but he didn't know what it was for, just that it must be more of a Sphinx than a Salamander if it was someone like him – someone like us – transporting it.'

'A name,' said Ginny.

'Didn't get one.' He held up his hands. 'I swear. People have been talking about it but no one used any names – not fake ones or nothing.'

'What do you know about a break-in at Gringotts?' asked Draco. Ginny shot him a look meant to convey shut up, but it was too late.

'Nowt,' said Mundungus, his grizzly face breaking out into a smile. 'Til now, that is.' He moved away from Malfoy, aware that he'd served his purpose and that Ginny had lost her power. 'Thanks for the chat.' He took his pipe out of his jacket pocket, lit it, then began to retreat back into the pub; no doubt their encounter would be common knowledge in criminal circles within hours.

Ginny sighed. 'Nice one, Malfoy. Word's going to be out now.'

'From him?' he pointed in the direction of the pub. 'Are you joking? Who's going to listen to that twat?'

'No one of importance, I suppose,' said Ginny, 'except maybe the people behind this.'

'Whoever took that knife is going to know someone's after them, Weasley.' The way he was looking at her made her feel like a twelve year old. She could feel more frustration and anger building within her. 'You don't get clever enough to break into Gringotts without a bit of common sense to go with it.'

'Clearly the people without the common sense are your bloody lot, since anyone and their mum can steal priceless objects from Gringotts these days.' She began storming off towards the High Street, Malfoy hot on her heels

'Gringotts security is nothing to do with me,' he said, 'so that's hardly an insult.'

'Why are you raising your voice then?'

'I'm not.' Ginny stopped, turned to face him and looked him square in the eyes. He shrank back a little, then gave her a challenging look. 'What?'

'You messed up, Malfoy,' she said, her voice not as steady as she'd like. 'We're doing this as equals, sure, but you need to let me do the parts I'm trained to do.'

'Oh, you mean sit around drinking tea all afternoon?'

'I mean interrogating criminals.'

'I just asked him what we wanted to know,' said Malfoy with a shrug. It was clear he knew his mistake but was too stubborn to admit it, especially now they had come this far in the argument.

'And I would have got to that. I could have got the information in a way that didn't let on what it is we're looking for.' She reached up and pulled the wand from her hair. 'I think we should call it a day.'

Malfoy nodded. 'I'm going to the pub.' He began walking up the street away from her, then paused, turning back. 'Next time, Weasley, I'm not going to act like your inferior in front of a worm like Fletcher. Consider yourself lucky that my speaking out of turn was all he got.'

He walked off at speed, not allowing Ginny to argue the point any further. She stood alone in the middle of the street and watched him head into the Three Broomsticks, passing over the exact spot where she had stood and drunkenly kissed him all those years ago. How things changed, she thought, then headed home.