---
Chapter Nine
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Hermione took a deep breath and worked up her courage. It really shouldn’t be so hard. It was just Ron, her best friend since childhood… and her boyfriend of three years, who became an ex four years ago, who had been best man at her wedding, who had been standing so close when she said ‘I do’ and got married to another man.
It was all Fate’s fault. Hermione was supposed to be the new Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, while Ron took the now jinx-free Defense Against the Dark Arts post. They were supposed to sneak into broom closets after classes, get married, have children, and make their kids (all with bushy red hair) embarrassed by having parents as their professors. They were supposed to grow old together, and become Headmaster and Headmistress of Hogwarts. But none of that ever happened.
Professor McGonagall, aged and weary from the war, declined the position of Headmistress, and maintained her teaching post. Hermione made Ron take the Defense job, but she was left jobless. Then, while looking for a job at Flourish and Blotts, she ran into Theodore Nott, wanted Death Eater, caught him, took him to the Aurors, and the Aurors never let her go.
Hermione hadn’t really wanted to be an Auror, but she was assigned to work with Harry, who brought fun and excitement to the job, and she fell in love with her job. She now regretted being so enthusiastic. She had canceled dates with Ron to hunt down criminals with Harry. She missed a Weasley family dinner to attend Harry’s promotion. Now that she really thought about it, Ron had a legitimate reason to be jealous of Harry. She had been too stupid and too blind, and lost the love of her life because of that.
She had learned to love Harry. He really was a wonderful husband. But for the first year or so, it had been extremely awkward. Harry was her best friend, and if it hadn’t been for Ron publicly declaring that she was doing unmentionable things in the photo-developing room with Harry, the other Aurors wouldn’t have looked at her like a scarlet woman, and she wouldn’t have had to save her reputation – and job, since scandals were highly disapproved of in the Department of Law Enforcement – and she would never have considered Harry as more than a friend.
So, Hermione decided that it was partly her fault, partly Ron’s fault, and mostly Fate’s fault. She would have to read ‘The Book of Fate’ as soon as she solved the axe-murderer case. And to solve the case, she needed Ron. She knocked on his door.
“Hermione,” Ron said, cracking open the door. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Did you hear from Harry?”
“No. Did you hear from Parkinson?”
“No.”
“They’re both missing.”
“I know. Do you think they’re together?”
“I don’t see why Harry would want to spend time with her,” Hermione said sharply. “And the same goes for Parkinson.”
“Right. So, you want to come in?”
“Yes, please.”
Hermione sat on Ron’s plush armchair, glaring disdainfully at the clean environment. She knew that Ron did not clean. Though she tried very hard, the House Elves at Hogwarts just refused to leave. S.P.E.W. wasn’t very effective if the elves she was trying to save weren’t cooperating. She sniffed unhappily at Ron’s proffered cup of tea.
“Is something wrong?” Ron asked cautiously.
“Yes. House Elves have been cleaning your room,” she spat bitterly.
Ron was too used to Hermione’s antics to bicker over something like S.P.E.W. After the war, Ron had grown up – fighting in the front lines and watching your Dad and two of your brothers die while fighting next to you could do that to a person. That was part of the problem. He had outgrown his little spats with Hermione, and sadly, as the tension died, so did the relationship. Hermione had not lost anyone, and though she had loved the Weasleys dearly, their deaths did not affect her as much as they had affected him. Hermione had learned to move on with life and enjoy the peace that they earned. Ron had retreated into a quiet appreciation of the peace, but he would never be able to forget that the price of the peace was hundreds of lives, including three members of his family.
Ron and Hermione both realized that they were too different. At first, this had been the cause of attraction; later, it had caused a rift. Hermione was too active, always hunting down criminals and dueling with deadly assassins. Ron was tired of it all. He just wanted to teach his students how to be safe, and with some of the more gifted students, how to play a mean game of chess. It was actually quite funny how his best chess student was a Slytherin. Ron really had grown up.
“I know, I know. I try to clean up after myself, but there are just too many papers to grade. I’ll make an effort to keep clean though, okay?”
Hermione blew out a frustrated breath. She missed the Ron who would get red in the face and say, ‘That’s what House Elves are for!’ When she was younger, she hated fighting with him, but now that he didn’t fight back, she missed it. It was almost laughable. But there wasn’t much she could do except just carry on.
“Do try not to think so much about yourself, Ron. House Elves are living beings too.” She took a sip of her tea. “I came here to ask for your help. You know that there’s an axe-murderer out to get Ginny. I have a hunch that it has something to do with Draco Malfoy, and the thought won’t leave me alone.”
“Malfoy,” Ron said darkly. “I knew something was up when he moved into Ginny’s flat. And what was she thinking, letting him live with her?”
“We need a strategy. This is where you come in. The first thing is to get Malfoy out of Ginny’s house. It’ll be easier to monitor him when he’s away from Ginny.”
“I can do that right now. Just go into my big brother mode, and I’ll send him packing.”
“Great. The sooner we do this, the better for everyone.”
Ron looked like was going to agree, then hesitated. “I, er, have some papers that need to be graded by tomorrow. Help me finish, and then we’ll go kick some Malfoy butt.”
Hermione smiled wistfully. She liked that Ron was being responsible, but she missed the old Ron terribly. “All right. What’s the topic on?”
---
Pansy looked longingly at her childhood home. Parkinson Manor was now renamed Brocklehurst Manor. Brocklehurst was a Muggle, and it was only because of his Half-Blood daughter’s success in the Ministry that he became one of the most respected Muggles in Wizarding England. Pansy grit her teeth in indignation. A Muggle, living in her home!
But there was no use thinking about that. She was homeless, and she had nowhere to go. The little money that she had was from the sympathetic Azkaban guard who gave her all of his pocket change. She wanted to see Draco, but decided that it would be better to borrow a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the night.
When Pansy stepped into the pub, she was greeted not by Tom, but by a smirking Harry Potter. Since when did Potter smirk?
“Parkinson, you’re so predictable,” he said.
“Listen, Potter, if you’re not going to tell me where Draco is, the least you could do is move aside so I can rent a room here.”
“People aren’t friendly to former Death Eaters, you know.”
“Then take me to Draco!”
“What’s your relationship with him, exactly?” Harry asked, comfortably leaning against the counter.
“Old friend, ex-boyfriend, now… well, he just came back from the dead. I don’t know what he is now.”
“Ex? What happened? You thought you were too good for his sliminess?”
“Draco is not slimy, Potter. You’re mistaking him for Snape. Draco used a lot of hair gel when he was younger, but that was years ago. Get over it,” she snapped, then continued, “He’s my ex because I thought he was dead. The war completely ruined our relationship.”
“So you’re going to start seeing him again?”
“I don’t know. That depends on what he’s like now.”
“If I told you where he was, what would you tell me?”
“What could you possibly want to know, Potter?”
“Where’s Zabini?”
“Blaise? I haven’t heard from him since he disappeared during the war. He was never involved with the Death Eaters, if that’s what you wanted to know. Thought he was too good for all that stuff.”
“So you have no idea, not even a guess, to where he could be?”
“No. If Blaise doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found. He and his mother were always slippery like that. Even for Slytherins, they were especially cunning, not to mention rich. They never flaunted their wealth, but I’ve always suspected that they were richer than the Malfoys were. Money buys freedom, Potter. Blaise is probably somewhere on an exotic island, having Veelas fawn all over him.”
Harry scowled. He wanted to take Pansy in for an interrogation, but if Draco’s memories featured nothing about Zabini, than Pansy wouldn’t know much either. Besides, he was suspended, and in no position to interrogate anyone. “What did Zabini think of Ginny?”
“Ginny? The little Weasley?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, back when we were in school, he thought she was good-looking, but most boys did – except you, Potter. And he thought she was different from the other Gryffindors because of the Chamber incident. Other than that, I don’t think he thought much about her – he didn’t like blood-traitors, either.”
“What do you think of Ginny?”
“Like I said, she’s a blood-traitor. You know what I think of blood-traitors. But I’m proud of her, too.”
“Proud?”
“I heard she dumped you. That was a smart move for her. In fact, I heard she dumped you for Neville Longbottom. Maybe she does value Purebloods over Half-Bloods,” Pansy said teasingly.
Harry grunted unhappily. “It was a mutual break-up, thanks very much. If you met Ginny, like say, in five minutes, what would you do to her?”
Pansy raised a dark eyebrow in that annoyingly Slytherin way. “Why?”
“I might be able to talk Ginny into letting you stay with her for the night.”
“At that – that place? The Burrow, or whatever?” Pansy looked faintly horrified.
“No. She has a flat. But I don’t see anything wrong with the Burrow,” Harry said defensively.
“Well, at least she’s a Pureblood. I won’t hurt her, as long as she doesn’t attack me first. I’ve seen her temper.”
“If I take you to Malfoy, are you going to start living with him?”
“Maybe. As you can see, Potter, I no longer have a home.”
“What if he’s living with another woman?”
“I thought that was possible. I’ll ask his wife to let me stay just until I find a job.”
Harry frowned. “Wife. Urgh. Ginny will never be Malfoy’s wife. I just put him there for… complex reasons.”
“Ginny? Wait! Draco’s living with a Weasley? What the hell for?”
“I made Malfoy stay with her to, er, protect her from some maniac – it’s a long story.”
“Poor Draco! I need to see him, now! Weasley hates Draco, more than she hates any other Slytherin! It’s a family feud! Did you see him fifth year? He had giant Bat Bogeys the size of Bludgers attacking him!” Pansy angrily poked Harry in the chest. “Weasley does not need protecting! It’s Draco that should be protected from her! Stupid Gryffindor, you have no brain! Hurry up! Where are they?”
---
“Of course the Kestrels would win,” Ginny said triumphantly, when the match was over. “I need to collect my bet money from Ian.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re able to predict winners, but if I were you, I wouldn’t bet on Puddlemere in next week’s game with the Arrows.”
“You’re right,” Ginny said gloomily. “With me as a benchwarmer, and Joscelind on leave –”
“And me being replaced with Bell,” Draco chipped in.
That had been the wrong thing to say. It triggered an explosion of all of Ginny’s pent-up emotions.
“Bell!” Ginny yelled, so loudly that Draco almost fell off the couch. “I can’t believe Wood replaced you with Bell! You’re tons better! Tons! If anyone tells you that you’re not better than Bell, you knock their teeth out and show them what a real Chaser can do!”
“Okay, Weasley,” Draco said. It was nice to get the stubborn redhead to admit that he was a good Chaser, but Ginny’s sudden overenthusiastic support for him was a bit disconcerting.
“Sod Bell! You can do better than Bell! You are better than Bell! Are you going to take this from Wood? Are you going to let an overgrown sapling replace you with a Christmas ornament?”
“Weasley?”
“Why aren’t you asking me what went wrong with my date?” Ginny suddenly demanded. She knew she was being unreasonable, but the Butterbeer was having a strange effect on her today, and she was about to go crazy. Not to mention that it was strange that Draco I’m-always-in-your-business Malfoy wasn’t asking about something that would undoubtedly entertain him.
“Weasley?”
“Well, I’m going to tell you! When Oliver said he was in love with a woman who only saw him as a friend, when he said that this woman was an excellent Chaser, and was like a little sister to him, who do you think I thought he was talking about? Me! I thought it was me! And when he said the date was this afternoon, did I think that he was just informing me to let me know that he finally worked up the courage to ask Bell out? No! I thought he was telling me to get prepared! And then I find out that he only called me over because Bell had to go see her ex-boyfriend, or something like that, and the food was getting cold! The food was getting cold! Is that all I am to him? The woman who eats cold food? I need to get on a broomstick.”
It took a moment for that last part to register. “What?”
“Broomstick! I need to be in the air!”
“Weasley.”
“Shut up! I want to fly, and you’re coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to look out for me. I haven’t been on a broomstick in a while, and I might fall off. Also, you know that whole axe-murderer thing is getting on my nerves.”
“And why should I look out for you?”
“Because we’re friends! I don’t care if you don’t want to be. I say we’re friends, and so we are friends. End of story. Okay, friend? Now let’s go fly.”
“Okay… friend.”
---
Ginny flew through the air, gracefully turning loops, flipping, rolling, and simply belonging in the air. She felt tons better. The stresses of the day just seemed to roll right off her shoulders – speaking of which, her injured shoulder didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. If she was this comfortable being on a broom, Ginny thought it wouldn’t be too long until she started playing again.
As soon as Ginny was in the air, she seemed to have forgotten that she had brought a friend along. It was strange, certainly, to call Draco Malfoy a friend – especially if you were a Weasley. It was even stranger that she had gotten so comfortable with his presence that she could forget that he was there, instead of worrying that he might try to knock her off her broom.
Draco was not exactly enjoying their late-night flying. He had the nasty feeling that something would go wrong, and a flying blunt axe would take her head off. Of course, he definitely was not concerned about a Weasley. He was only worried that the axe would miss Ginny and hit him instead. And the reason that he kept looking at Ginny flying was because he wanted to study her flying techniques, and not because her vivid red hair made her look like a beautiful shooting star.
Some activity below him distracted Draco from watching Ginny, because if said activity was anything suspicious, he would be watching her dead body, which he kept trying to tell himself would be good entertainment, but he seemed to be refusing to listen to himself. Luckily, the people below were not axe-wielding maniacs. Unluckily, they were Oliver Wood and Katie Bell, and if Ginny saw, things would not be pretty.
Katie did not seem to want to be there. She was fidgeting, and looked as if she desperately wanted to get away. Oliver had a firm grasp on the sleeve of her robes, and was talking animatedly about something that was making Katie smile in a forced way that screamed, ‘Okay, I get your point, so shut up now!’
Draco chuckled to himself. It was rather funny how Wood could make random women swoon, but the one that he actually liked didn’t seem interested. If Katie were a Slytherin, Draco would suspect that she was feigning disinterest to make Oliver more interested, but Katie was a Gryffindor, and when Gryffindors said they were uninterested, then they were uninterested.
Draco flew a bit closer to the Quidditch couple. He wanted to know what Wood was talking about that was making Bell smile in a way so fake that if it were any faker, she’d be frowning.
“… managed to blow up a Quaffle by sandwiching it between two Bludgers. You should’ve seen it! It was amazing! The referee was so impressed with that move that he decided to award twenty extra points to our team! Those Fleetwood brothers really are impressive!”
Quidditch. Of course. Wood couldn’t talk about anything that wasn’t Quidditch. In fact, if the topic of discussion was something that wasn’t Quidditch, Wood would somehow relate that to the sport, even if it meant coming up with theories wild enough to land him in St. Mungo’s Psychiatric Ward.
“Oliver, I think that the Fleetwoods are great Beaters, I really do, but I need to go home!”
“But Katie,” Wood protested, “you left in the middle of dinner, and now you won’t even stay for a cup of tea?”
“My brother is sick,” Katie insisted.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “But you don’t have a brother!”
“I meant Leanne’s brother. We’re very close. I need to go –” Katie was cut off by a bloodcurdling shriek that came from somewhere far above their heads. “What was that?” Katie and Oliver exclaimed at the same time.
“That sounded like Ginny!” Oliver said, and Draco realized, with a horrible sinking feeling, that it was.
True to the thought that had been bothering him a few moments ago, there was a flying axe swooping after Ginny. “Finite Incantatum!” Draco bellowed, but the flying axe paid no heed. It took a few more futile Finite Incantatums before Draco remembered his old trick of looking at shadows to detect Disillusionment charms. There was indeed an invisible someone holding onto that axe. It was impressive, really, how the person was holding the axe with one hand, a wand with the other, and was flying a broom with no hands. Draco smirked. Fancy fliers always ended up in St. Mungo’s with fancy injuries.
---
Harry and Pansy had just reached Ginny’s door when Ron and Hermione appeared out of nowhere with faint pops. Harry couldn’t help but glare suspiciously at his two best friends. Had they been together the whole time he was gone? Instead of worrying about him, had Hermione used the time of his absence to reacquaint herself with Ron?
Hermione glared suspiciously at her husband and the ex-convict. While she was running around England looking for him, had Harry spent time fraternizing with the enemy?
Pansy glared at Hermione, who she had never, ever liked. Hermione had been a bossy Gryffindor know-it-all at school, and after that, she had turned into a super-Auror who had incarcerated Pansy’s whole family, including herself. Also, even though Pansy knew that Ron had never really liked her, and that his letters were the result of the Weasley twins’ evil plan, she couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous that Ron had once loved Hermione in a way that no one would ever love her.
Ron was tired of the growing complications between himself, Harry, and Hermione. To make it worse, judging from how Pansy’s hand was tucked into the crook of Harry’s arm, Pansy had apparently decided to join the tangled web of past and present relationships. He just wanted to kick Malfoy out of his sister’s flat and protect her from any axe-murderers, but apparently it was too much to ask for. Ron wished that life could be more like chess. In chess, he could strategize and manipulate his opposing player into making moves that would eventually lead to his own victory. In life, however, it seemed that he was nothing more than a pawn being played by the cruel grandmaster called Fate.
“Perhaps we should go inside. Ginny will give us some tea,” Ron suggested, and knocked. And knocked again. “Ginny? Are you home?”
“Apparently not,” said Pansy. “Either that, or she’s avoiding her brother dear. I wonder why.”
“Malfoy murdered her!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping to conclusions.
“Zabini has her!” Harry yelled.
“Or, perhaps she’s in the shower,” Pansy said, but nobody was listening.
“Hermione, bring the Aurors! I’ll break in with Ron!”
“Calling the Aurors is unnecessary! Breaking in is unnecessary! I’m a Weasley – I can get through the wards,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione and Harry, who grabbed onto Pansy, and Apparated into the flat.
---
Draco shot off into the air, and began sending a stream of curses and hexes towards the axe murderer. Ginny joined in, but when the murderer dropped the axe, it became harder to find the target. Still, Draco and Ginny were both exceptional duelers, and they managed to knock the murderer off the broom.
There was a scream, a definitely feminine one, and the murderer crashed into the roof below.
“Petrificus totalus!” Draco yelled, freezing the invisible person.
Draco and Ginny both landed on the rooftop. Ginny felt her heart rate accelerate. They had caught the murderer, but what if it really was Tom Riddle? What if he had somehow found a way to return?
Oliver’s arrival broke her train of thought. “Ginny!” he exclaimed, Apparating onto the rooftop. “Are you all right?”
Ginny noticed that Oliver had brought along a panic-stricken Katie Bell and was holding her rather closely, due to her flailing about wildly with desperate pleas of “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to see this!” However, the feeling of jealousy was suppressed by the overwhelming sense of curiosity mixed with apprehension.
“Fine,” she said dully.
“Let me go, Oliver! I don’t want to be a witness of this!” Katie insisted.
“Katie, it’s okay! Really – Ginny and Malfoy have it all under control. There is no danger here!”
While Katie continued to try to break away from Oliver, and while a bewildered Oliver tried to calm her down, Draco gently grasped Ginny’s shoulder – her good one – and asked softly, “Do you want to see who it is for yourself? Or would you prefer to be told?”
Ginny steeled herself, Draco’s kind gesture giving her strength. “I want to see for myself. I want to see just who it is that made my life so difficult!”
Draco gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Go for it.”
Ginny pointed her wand at the invisible fallen body and cried, “Finite incantatum!”
The Disillusionment charm was lifted, and Ginny, Draco, and a rather startled Oliver gazed at the unconscious form of Katie Bell, as the other Katie Bell gave a little shriek and began sobbing.
---
To be continued…
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Chapter Nine
---
Hermione took a deep breath and worked up her courage. It really shouldn’t be so hard. It was just Ron, her best friend since childhood… and her boyfriend of three years, who became an ex four years ago, who had been best man at her wedding, who had been standing so close when she said ‘I do’ and got married to another man.
It was all Fate’s fault. Hermione was supposed to be the new Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, while Ron took the now jinx-free Defense Against the Dark Arts post. They were supposed to sneak into broom closets after classes, get married, have children, and make their kids (all with bushy red hair) embarrassed by having parents as their professors. They were supposed to grow old together, and become Headmaster and Headmistress of Hogwarts. But none of that ever happened.
Professor McGonagall, aged and weary from the war, declined the position of Headmistress, and maintained her teaching post. Hermione made Ron take the Defense job, but she was left jobless. Then, while looking for a job at Flourish and Blotts, she ran into Theodore Nott, wanted Death Eater, caught him, took him to the Aurors, and the Aurors never let her go.
Hermione hadn’t really wanted to be an Auror, but she was assigned to work with Harry, who brought fun and excitement to the job, and she fell in love with her job. She now regretted being so enthusiastic. She had canceled dates with Ron to hunt down criminals with Harry. She missed a Weasley family dinner to attend Harry’s promotion. Now that she really thought about it, Ron had a legitimate reason to be jealous of Harry. She had been too stupid and too blind, and lost the love of her life because of that.
She had learned to love Harry. He really was a wonderful husband. But for the first year or so, it had been extremely awkward. Harry was her best friend, and if it hadn’t been for Ron publicly declaring that she was doing unmentionable things in the photo-developing room with Harry, the other Aurors wouldn’t have looked at her like a scarlet woman, and she wouldn’t have had to save her reputation – and job, since scandals were highly disapproved of in the Department of Law Enforcement – and she would never have considered Harry as more than a friend.
So, Hermione decided that it was partly her fault, partly Ron’s fault, and mostly Fate’s fault. She would have to read ‘The Book of Fate’ as soon as she solved the axe-murderer case. And to solve the case, she needed Ron. She knocked on his door.
“Hermione,” Ron said, cracking open the door. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Did you hear from Harry?”
“No. Did you hear from Parkinson?”
“No.”
“They’re both missing.”
“I know. Do you think they’re together?”
“I don’t see why Harry would want to spend time with her,” Hermione said sharply. “And the same goes for Parkinson.”
“Right. So, you want to come in?”
“Yes, please.”
Hermione sat on Ron’s plush armchair, glaring disdainfully at the clean environment. She knew that Ron did not clean. Though she tried very hard, the House Elves at Hogwarts just refused to leave. S.P.E.W. wasn’t very effective if the elves she was trying to save weren’t cooperating. She sniffed unhappily at Ron’s proffered cup of tea.
“Is something wrong?” Ron asked cautiously.
“Yes. House Elves have been cleaning your room,” she spat bitterly.
Ron was too used to Hermione’s antics to bicker over something like S.P.E.W. After the war, Ron had grown up – fighting in the front lines and watching your Dad and two of your brothers die while fighting next to you could do that to a person. That was part of the problem. He had outgrown his little spats with Hermione, and sadly, as the tension died, so did the relationship. Hermione had not lost anyone, and though she had loved the Weasleys dearly, their deaths did not affect her as much as they had affected him. Hermione had learned to move on with life and enjoy the peace that they earned. Ron had retreated into a quiet appreciation of the peace, but he would never be able to forget that the price of the peace was hundreds of lives, including three members of his family.
Ron and Hermione both realized that they were too different. At first, this had been the cause of attraction; later, it had caused a rift. Hermione was too active, always hunting down criminals and dueling with deadly assassins. Ron was tired of it all. He just wanted to teach his students how to be safe, and with some of the more gifted students, how to play a mean game of chess. It was actually quite funny how his best chess student was a Slytherin. Ron really had grown up.
“I know, I know. I try to clean up after myself, but there are just too many papers to grade. I’ll make an effort to keep clean though, okay?”
Hermione blew out a frustrated breath. She missed the Ron who would get red in the face and say, ‘That’s what House Elves are for!’ When she was younger, she hated fighting with him, but now that he didn’t fight back, she missed it. It was almost laughable. But there wasn’t much she could do except just carry on.
“Do try not to think so much about yourself, Ron. House Elves are living beings too.” She took a sip of her tea. “I came here to ask for your help. You know that there’s an axe-murderer out to get Ginny. I have a hunch that it has something to do with Draco Malfoy, and the thought won’t leave me alone.”
“Malfoy,” Ron said darkly. “I knew something was up when he moved into Ginny’s flat. And what was she thinking, letting him live with her?”
“We need a strategy. This is where you come in. The first thing is to get Malfoy out of Ginny’s house. It’ll be easier to monitor him when he’s away from Ginny.”
“I can do that right now. Just go into my big brother mode, and I’ll send him packing.”
“Great. The sooner we do this, the better for everyone.”
Ron looked like was going to agree, then hesitated. “I, er, have some papers that need to be graded by tomorrow. Help me finish, and then we’ll go kick some Malfoy butt.”
Hermione smiled wistfully. She liked that Ron was being responsible, but she missed the old Ron terribly. “All right. What’s the topic on?”
---
Pansy looked longingly at her childhood home. Parkinson Manor was now renamed Brocklehurst Manor. Brocklehurst was a Muggle, and it was only because of his Half-Blood daughter’s success in the Ministry that he became one of the most respected Muggles in Wizarding England. Pansy grit her teeth in indignation. A Muggle, living in her home!
But there was no use thinking about that. She was homeless, and she had nowhere to go. The little money that she had was from the sympathetic Azkaban guard who gave her all of his pocket change. She wanted to see Draco, but decided that it would be better to borrow a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the night.
When Pansy stepped into the pub, she was greeted not by Tom, but by a smirking Harry Potter. Since when did Potter smirk?
“Parkinson, you’re so predictable,” he said.
“Listen, Potter, if you’re not going to tell me where Draco is, the least you could do is move aside so I can rent a room here.”
“People aren’t friendly to former Death Eaters, you know.”
“Then take me to Draco!”
“What’s your relationship with him, exactly?” Harry asked, comfortably leaning against the counter.
“Old friend, ex-boyfriend, now… well, he just came back from the dead. I don’t know what he is now.”
“Ex? What happened? You thought you were too good for his sliminess?”
“Draco is not slimy, Potter. You’re mistaking him for Snape. Draco used a lot of hair gel when he was younger, but that was years ago. Get over it,” she snapped, then continued, “He’s my ex because I thought he was dead. The war completely ruined our relationship.”
“So you’re going to start seeing him again?”
“I don’t know. That depends on what he’s like now.”
“If I told you where he was, what would you tell me?”
“What could you possibly want to know, Potter?”
“Where’s Zabini?”
“Blaise? I haven’t heard from him since he disappeared during the war. He was never involved with the Death Eaters, if that’s what you wanted to know. Thought he was too good for all that stuff.”
“So you have no idea, not even a guess, to where he could be?”
“No. If Blaise doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found. He and his mother were always slippery like that. Even for Slytherins, they were especially cunning, not to mention rich. They never flaunted their wealth, but I’ve always suspected that they were richer than the Malfoys were. Money buys freedom, Potter. Blaise is probably somewhere on an exotic island, having Veelas fawn all over him.”
Harry scowled. He wanted to take Pansy in for an interrogation, but if Draco’s memories featured nothing about Zabini, than Pansy wouldn’t know much either. Besides, he was suspended, and in no position to interrogate anyone. “What did Zabini think of Ginny?”
“Ginny? The little Weasley?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, back when we were in school, he thought she was good-looking, but most boys did – except you, Potter. And he thought she was different from the other Gryffindors because of the Chamber incident. Other than that, I don’t think he thought much about her – he didn’t like blood-traitors, either.”
“What do you think of Ginny?”
“Like I said, she’s a blood-traitor. You know what I think of blood-traitors. But I’m proud of her, too.”
“Proud?”
“I heard she dumped you. That was a smart move for her. In fact, I heard she dumped you for Neville Longbottom. Maybe she does value Purebloods over Half-Bloods,” Pansy said teasingly.
Harry grunted unhappily. “It was a mutual break-up, thanks very much. If you met Ginny, like say, in five minutes, what would you do to her?”
Pansy raised a dark eyebrow in that annoyingly Slytherin way. “Why?”
“I might be able to talk Ginny into letting you stay with her for the night.”
“At that – that place? The Burrow, or whatever?” Pansy looked faintly horrified.
“No. She has a flat. But I don’t see anything wrong with the Burrow,” Harry said defensively.
“Well, at least she’s a Pureblood. I won’t hurt her, as long as she doesn’t attack me first. I’ve seen her temper.”
“If I take you to Malfoy, are you going to start living with him?”
“Maybe. As you can see, Potter, I no longer have a home.”
“What if he’s living with another woman?”
“I thought that was possible. I’ll ask his wife to let me stay just until I find a job.”
Harry frowned. “Wife. Urgh. Ginny will never be Malfoy’s wife. I just put him there for… complex reasons.”
“Ginny? Wait! Draco’s living with a Weasley? What the hell for?”
“I made Malfoy stay with her to, er, protect her from some maniac – it’s a long story.”
“Poor Draco! I need to see him, now! Weasley hates Draco, more than she hates any other Slytherin! It’s a family feud! Did you see him fifth year? He had giant Bat Bogeys the size of Bludgers attacking him!” Pansy angrily poked Harry in the chest. “Weasley does not need protecting! It’s Draco that should be protected from her! Stupid Gryffindor, you have no brain! Hurry up! Where are they?”
---
“Of course the Kestrels would win,” Ginny said triumphantly, when the match was over. “I need to collect my bet money from Ian.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re able to predict winners, but if I were you, I wouldn’t bet on Puddlemere in next week’s game with the Arrows.”
“You’re right,” Ginny said gloomily. “With me as a benchwarmer, and Joscelind on leave –”
“And me being replaced with Bell,” Draco chipped in.
That had been the wrong thing to say. It triggered an explosion of all of Ginny’s pent-up emotions.
“Bell!” Ginny yelled, so loudly that Draco almost fell off the couch. “I can’t believe Wood replaced you with Bell! You’re tons better! Tons! If anyone tells you that you’re not better than Bell, you knock their teeth out and show them what a real Chaser can do!”
“Okay, Weasley,” Draco said. It was nice to get the stubborn redhead to admit that he was a good Chaser, but Ginny’s sudden overenthusiastic support for him was a bit disconcerting.
“Sod Bell! You can do better than Bell! You are better than Bell! Are you going to take this from Wood? Are you going to let an overgrown sapling replace you with a Christmas ornament?”
“Weasley?”
“Why aren’t you asking me what went wrong with my date?” Ginny suddenly demanded. She knew she was being unreasonable, but the Butterbeer was having a strange effect on her today, and she was about to go crazy. Not to mention that it was strange that Draco I’m-always-in-your-business Malfoy wasn’t asking about something that would undoubtedly entertain him.
“Weasley?”
“Well, I’m going to tell you! When Oliver said he was in love with a woman who only saw him as a friend, when he said that this woman was an excellent Chaser, and was like a little sister to him, who do you think I thought he was talking about? Me! I thought it was me! And when he said the date was this afternoon, did I think that he was just informing me to let me know that he finally worked up the courage to ask Bell out? No! I thought he was telling me to get prepared! And then I find out that he only called me over because Bell had to go see her ex-boyfriend, or something like that, and the food was getting cold! The food was getting cold! Is that all I am to him? The woman who eats cold food? I need to get on a broomstick.”
It took a moment for that last part to register. “What?”
“Broomstick! I need to be in the air!”
“Weasley.”
“Shut up! I want to fly, and you’re coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to look out for me. I haven’t been on a broomstick in a while, and I might fall off. Also, you know that whole axe-murderer thing is getting on my nerves.”
“And why should I look out for you?”
“Because we’re friends! I don’t care if you don’t want to be. I say we’re friends, and so we are friends. End of story. Okay, friend? Now let’s go fly.”
“Okay… friend.”
---
Ginny flew through the air, gracefully turning loops, flipping, rolling, and simply belonging in the air. She felt tons better. The stresses of the day just seemed to roll right off her shoulders – speaking of which, her injured shoulder didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. If she was this comfortable being on a broom, Ginny thought it wouldn’t be too long until she started playing again.
As soon as Ginny was in the air, she seemed to have forgotten that she had brought a friend along. It was strange, certainly, to call Draco Malfoy a friend – especially if you were a Weasley. It was even stranger that she had gotten so comfortable with his presence that she could forget that he was there, instead of worrying that he might try to knock her off her broom.
Draco was not exactly enjoying their late-night flying. He had the nasty feeling that something would go wrong, and a flying blunt axe would take her head off. Of course, he definitely was not concerned about a Weasley. He was only worried that the axe would miss Ginny and hit him instead. And the reason that he kept looking at Ginny flying was because he wanted to study her flying techniques, and not because her vivid red hair made her look like a beautiful shooting star.
Some activity below him distracted Draco from watching Ginny, because if said activity was anything suspicious, he would be watching her dead body, which he kept trying to tell himself would be good entertainment, but he seemed to be refusing to listen to himself. Luckily, the people below were not axe-wielding maniacs. Unluckily, they were Oliver Wood and Katie Bell, and if Ginny saw, things would not be pretty.
Katie did not seem to want to be there. She was fidgeting, and looked as if she desperately wanted to get away. Oliver had a firm grasp on the sleeve of her robes, and was talking animatedly about something that was making Katie smile in a forced way that screamed, ‘Okay, I get your point, so shut up now!’
Draco chuckled to himself. It was rather funny how Wood could make random women swoon, but the one that he actually liked didn’t seem interested. If Katie were a Slytherin, Draco would suspect that she was feigning disinterest to make Oliver more interested, but Katie was a Gryffindor, and when Gryffindors said they were uninterested, then they were uninterested.
Draco flew a bit closer to the Quidditch couple. He wanted to know what Wood was talking about that was making Bell smile in a way so fake that if it were any faker, she’d be frowning.
“… managed to blow up a Quaffle by sandwiching it between two Bludgers. You should’ve seen it! It was amazing! The referee was so impressed with that move that he decided to award twenty extra points to our team! Those Fleetwood brothers really are impressive!”
Quidditch. Of course. Wood couldn’t talk about anything that wasn’t Quidditch. In fact, if the topic of discussion was something that wasn’t Quidditch, Wood would somehow relate that to the sport, even if it meant coming up with theories wild enough to land him in St. Mungo’s Psychiatric Ward.
“Oliver, I think that the Fleetwoods are great Beaters, I really do, but I need to go home!”
“But Katie,” Wood protested, “you left in the middle of dinner, and now you won’t even stay for a cup of tea?”
“My brother is sick,” Katie insisted.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “But you don’t have a brother!”
“I meant Leanne’s brother. We’re very close. I need to go –” Katie was cut off by a bloodcurdling shriek that came from somewhere far above their heads. “What was that?” Katie and Oliver exclaimed at the same time.
“That sounded like Ginny!” Oliver said, and Draco realized, with a horrible sinking feeling, that it was.
True to the thought that had been bothering him a few moments ago, there was a flying axe swooping after Ginny. “Finite Incantatum!” Draco bellowed, but the flying axe paid no heed. It took a few more futile Finite Incantatums before Draco remembered his old trick of looking at shadows to detect Disillusionment charms. There was indeed an invisible someone holding onto that axe. It was impressive, really, how the person was holding the axe with one hand, a wand with the other, and was flying a broom with no hands. Draco smirked. Fancy fliers always ended up in St. Mungo’s with fancy injuries.
---
Harry and Pansy had just reached Ginny’s door when Ron and Hermione appeared out of nowhere with faint pops. Harry couldn’t help but glare suspiciously at his two best friends. Had they been together the whole time he was gone? Instead of worrying about him, had Hermione used the time of his absence to reacquaint herself with Ron?
Hermione glared suspiciously at her husband and the ex-convict. While she was running around England looking for him, had Harry spent time fraternizing with the enemy?
Pansy glared at Hermione, who she had never, ever liked. Hermione had been a bossy Gryffindor know-it-all at school, and after that, she had turned into a super-Auror who had incarcerated Pansy’s whole family, including herself. Also, even though Pansy knew that Ron had never really liked her, and that his letters were the result of the Weasley twins’ evil plan, she couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous that Ron had once loved Hermione in a way that no one would ever love her.
Ron was tired of the growing complications between himself, Harry, and Hermione. To make it worse, judging from how Pansy’s hand was tucked into the crook of Harry’s arm, Pansy had apparently decided to join the tangled web of past and present relationships. He just wanted to kick Malfoy out of his sister’s flat and protect her from any axe-murderers, but apparently it was too much to ask for. Ron wished that life could be more like chess. In chess, he could strategize and manipulate his opposing player into making moves that would eventually lead to his own victory. In life, however, it seemed that he was nothing more than a pawn being played by the cruel grandmaster called Fate.
“Perhaps we should go inside. Ginny will give us some tea,” Ron suggested, and knocked. And knocked again. “Ginny? Are you home?”
“Apparently not,” said Pansy. “Either that, or she’s avoiding her brother dear. I wonder why.”
“Malfoy murdered her!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping to conclusions.
“Zabini has her!” Harry yelled.
“Or, perhaps she’s in the shower,” Pansy said, but nobody was listening.
“Hermione, bring the Aurors! I’ll break in with Ron!”
“Calling the Aurors is unnecessary! Breaking in is unnecessary! I’m a Weasley – I can get through the wards,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione and Harry, who grabbed onto Pansy, and Apparated into the flat.
---
Draco shot off into the air, and began sending a stream of curses and hexes towards the axe murderer. Ginny joined in, but when the murderer dropped the axe, it became harder to find the target. Still, Draco and Ginny were both exceptional duelers, and they managed to knock the murderer off the broom.
There was a scream, a definitely feminine one, and the murderer crashed into the roof below.
“Petrificus totalus!” Draco yelled, freezing the invisible person.
Draco and Ginny both landed on the rooftop. Ginny felt her heart rate accelerate. They had caught the murderer, but what if it really was Tom Riddle? What if he had somehow found a way to return?
Oliver’s arrival broke her train of thought. “Ginny!” he exclaimed, Apparating onto the rooftop. “Are you all right?”
Ginny noticed that Oliver had brought along a panic-stricken Katie Bell and was holding her rather closely, due to her flailing about wildly with desperate pleas of “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to see this!” However, the feeling of jealousy was suppressed by the overwhelming sense of curiosity mixed with apprehension.
“Fine,” she said dully.
“Let me go, Oliver! I don’t want to be a witness of this!” Katie insisted.
“Katie, it’s okay! Really – Ginny and Malfoy have it all under control. There is no danger here!”
While Katie continued to try to break away from Oliver, and while a bewildered Oliver tried to calm her down, Draco gently grasped Ginny’s shoulder – her good one – and asked softly, “Do you want to see who it is for yourself? Or would you prefer to be told?”
Ginny steeled herself, Draco’s kind gesture giving her strength. “I want to see for myself. I want to see just who it is that made my life so difficult!”
Draco gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Go for it.”
Ginny pointed her wand at the invisible fallen body and cried, “Finite incantatum!”
The Disillusionment charm was lifted, and Ginny, Draco, and a rather startled Oliver gazed at the unconscious form of Katie Bell, as the other Katie Bell gave a little shriek and began sobbing.
---
To be continued…
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