All Our Yesterdays

All Our Yesterdays

Author's Notes: This fic is originally written in Portuguese, and I'd like to thank Flora Fairfield, the author, for letting me translate it. I also would like to thank hathor x., who will be helping me from now on with this. Thank you for your great help!

Chapter 8 - Incessant search

The sea extended out into the dark; grizzly and billowy. The rogue waves crashed into the ferry, making it tilt up and down, like the rhythm of a mysterious song. In the sky, the sun was shining weakly within big and ugly clouds. Standing up, with his arms crossed, Draco Malfoy observed the tail left in the water with stormy eyes. It was cold. He was precipitated enough to start the trip without bringing a coat and now he was paying the price for his imprudence. At that moment though, with so many things more important to consider, the temperature was the least of his worries.

Getting the pass to go to Azkaban Fortress wasn't hard. His frustration didn't start until he found out that the next ferry to the island would only leave in the morning. Draco ended up spending the night in a small and uncomfortable hotel by the seaside. He didn't sleep. Who could close their eyes after such a revealation? No, Draco Malfoy wouldn't have a minute's rest until he found out how his mother fitted into the scheme. That was the question that annoyed him above anything else.

Turning around for the first time to face the same direction as the ferry, he saw the rocky and sad island approaching more and more. He had never been to Azkaban before. He hadn't known it while the dementors had kept it, and he hadn't visited it after they were removed. They had joined Voldemort during the last war and the Ministry had finally decided to dismiss them. Wizards, most of them aurors, now watched the prison. The security measures were extremely severe. Draco's wand had been confiscated before he got on the ferry, and he would be frisked again after landing. He couldn't carry any kind of magical object with him. He couldn't even bring a piece of parchment, under the allegation that it could be used to pass secret messages to the prisoners. Animals weren't allowed in Azkaban, because they could be unregistered Animagi, and the fortress was watched and protected to prevent any wizard visitor from transforming himself. The prisoners were obliged to ingest a daily potion that inhibited their magic powers, so that, even if they did steal a wand, they wouldn't be able to cast more than a simple Lumos. People couldn't apparate. Port-keys didn't work and there were no fireplaces. Charms protected the sky - so no broomsticks could approach - and the sea - repelling non-authorised boats. Any clandestine craft that approached the island ended up lost and its crew was affected by a really strong Confundus charm. The Muggles were starting to refer to the island as a second Bermuda Triangle.

A thin fog mixed with the haze around the rocks, giving the island an ethereal appearance, almost from another world. It was early - the sun hadn't risen yet - and it was cold. The day was to be gray like Draco's eyes and, also like them, a storm was coming. Arms crossed, erect standing, face closed. With the daybreak, Malfoy was the very image of tension. He couldn't get rid of the unpleasant images that came to his mind these last two days. Even there, in the only mean of transportation that could bring him to his mother - a Muggle-looking ferry, that didn't carry more than three passengers that silent morning - he could close his eyes and see the golden hair of the dead woman. The initial relief he had felt, that it had not been Ginny's body inside the tree was now replaced by fear of finding her in another lonely tree, somewhere in the UK. Was she really dead? Draco's heart wanted to answer no, but his brain recognized the possibilities. Could his mother throw some light at this mystery? The answer was about to come.

The land was now close and the outline of the prison's fortress was clear and sharp. A few more minutes and the ferry anchored in the small pier. While unboarding and being frisked, Draco couldn't get rid of the sensation of walking towards his past. Behind those thick walls were imprisoned lots of figures from his childhood. His father had died, that's true - murdered by Mad-Eye Moody in a moment of huge stupidity - but others had survived. Right after his death, Potter had destroyed Voldemort and the real hunt of the Death Eaters had started. This time, simple allegations like being under the Imperius Curse weren't accepted. The Ministry was determined to arrest all of those involved with Voldemort. Many of them had died fighting or running away, but many of them were caught. Crabbe and Goyle's parents were in Azkaban. Pettigrew, on the other hand, was dead. Karkaroff was dead too - Voldemort was responsible for that. The only Death Eater that remained free was Snape, for obvious reasons. Draco couldn't avoid smiling thinking that the professor was still frightening the first-years at Hogwarts - especially the Gryffindors. However, while passing through the huge doors to the interior of Azkaban Fortress, his thoughts inevitably came back to his dear mother.

Many people had asked themselves what Narcissa had done to deserve a death sentence in Azkaban. Just few knew that she was the perfect pair to Lucius Malfoy since the beginning. Both completed each other. She was at the same time his accomplice and confidant. When her husband died, Draco remembered very well going to her, asking her to cooperate with the Ministry. At that time, he was already in love with Ginny. His mother had never been a Death Eater. She could allege being under the influence of her husband and remain convincing. They would have escaped undamaged and Draco could have re-built the old Malfoy's name. Narcissa, however, knew the real reasons behind her son's request. She knew he was in love with a Weasley and when he said 're-building the old Malfoy's name', she knew he was actually saying 'denying the old Malfoy's name'. She couldn't allow that. Couldn't let her house, her honor being blurred by the presence of a poor Muggle-lover. She couldn't open the doors of the mansion and give all the secrets of the family to the Ministry. So, Narcissa did the only thing she judged to be right.

In a hot night of summer, she prepared the mansion and started the fire. Draco barely escaped alive. His house - the house of his childhood - burnt for three entire days before extinguishing completely. Everything was destroyed. A little after that, Narcissa was arrested. She confessed her crimes and described how a big part of the family's fortune had been made through illegal means. The Ministry confiscated the money and to her, this was a small price to pay to see her son in misery. The son she had raised with all her love and all the petting and that, in the end, had denied everything his parents had taught him. He deserved to suffer.

Narcissa was judged, convict and sentenced with no mercy. In Azkaban, she would live her last days and Draco couldn't be more satisfied with the idea. He hated her with conviction and blamed her mostly for the humiliations he had had to suffer. If he had the money, he could have at least stepped on the people standing around him, but because of her, he was obliged to face everything. She was guilty, and even without his promise to Ginny, Malfoy didn't think he would want to keep any kind of relationship with 'that woman', as he liked to call her nowadays. And still, despite all his hate, he was at that moment ready to do what he had never imagined himself doing before: ask for her help. No matter how much he grudged, no matter how much it hurt to swallow his pride, if Narcissa could help him find Ginny somehow, Draco would even be capable of begging her.

All these thoughts and memories crossed quickly his mind during the long walk through the well-illuminated corridors of the prison. The walls were made of stone, thick and massive, making the place cold and a bit humid. There were no windows, but well positioned torches illuminated the passages with a flickering light. After two sets of stairs, Draco was finally conducted to what seemed like an interrogation room. It wasn't exactly a visit room - its look was austere and uncomfortable - and had a chair also of stone in a corner. It was similar to the judging rooms of the Ministry, with its chains ready to catch the prisoner who would be sitting on it. And in the other corner of the room, in front of the chair, there was a stone table and a second chair, smaller and more comfortable. Silently, Draco sat and waited.

After a few moments, the door was opened and his mother passed through. She was wearing the prison uniform - gray, ugly and shabby. Her hair, which was once blonde and thin, was now practically gray, but it kept its clean and well-cared appearance. The beauty of her face hadn't disappeared completely. It was just a little smeared by the years in jail, by the wrinkles and the severity of her expression. The majesty, though, was still there, on the surface, ready to emerge whenever would be necessary.

Narcissa entered serious and with her nose reared up. The wizard who had brought her took her to the chair and then left the room. The chains didn't catch her because her hands were already tied. The whole time, Draco attempted to observe her with an indifferent look. When they were finally left alone, he stood silent facing her. She was the first to open her mouth.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, my son?" Narcissa asked with a lovely smile. Malfoy knew, though, that there was nothing of lovely in her behavior.

"It came to my ears," he started after a brief pause, wanting to go straight to the point, "that you've been receiving letters from me, here in Azkaban. I thought this was particularly interesting, mum, considering the fact that I've never sent any letter," he completed, his voice full of irony.

"Yes, it's true. There's a person who sends me letters using your name," she replied, without taking off the smile on the face.

"Who?"

"I tried to warn you, son," Narcissa said, ignoring his last question. "But you've never read any of my letters."

"How do you know that? The fact that I've never answered them doesn't mean I've never read them."

"No, you would've come here immediately if you had opened the first letter, exactly as you're doing now. I'm sure of that."

"Why? What did they say that was so important?"

"They were about the man who writes me using your name."

"And what's so interesting about him?" Draco was starting to lose his patience.

"He started to write to me five years ago. It was about the same time I started to write to you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, one letter per week."

"And haven't you found it strange? So many years without news and then suddenly a letter from nowhere..."

"Honestly, I had more important things to worry about."

"Yes, I know. Your dearest wife, isn't it?" Narcissa said, using a clearly derogatory tone of voice. Draco started to feel his blood boil.

"Don't speak of her. She's too good for you to mention her."

"Don't you mean was?" Malfoy closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. He wouldn't let her drive him mad.

"Let's go back to the letters. What was their subject?"

"Your dearest wife," she said and Draco wasn't really surprised. He was expecting something like that.

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"I know more than that, my son."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Don't you want to know who was writing to me first?"

"Fuck who was writing to you! I want to know what you know about Ginny!"

"Ginny? Was it her name?"

"You know that, yes."

"No, I don't. I just remember her as a Weasley with a vague expression and second-hand robes."

"Mother..."

"Don't start to get angry at me, my son. What I said is the truth and if you chose to deny it, well, it's not my fault. God knows I did as much as I could to raise you correctly. Tell me: what have your father and I done wrong? Haven't we given you enough gifts? Haven't we given you enough attention? What was it?"

"Nothing. You did nothing wrong."

"I refuse to believe that. We raised you for years. Years and years. And then comes a stupid girl..."

"She's not a stupid girl!"

"And then comes a stupid girl, who simply turns up your mind! It's obvious we've done something wrong! Otherwise, you would've laughed at her, perhaps used her and then abandoned her, but you wouldn't have made her your wife. Wish I had sent you to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts!"

"I'm not here to discuss my marriage."

"No, you're here to take all the useful information from me, then leave me in this end of the world for another ten, twenty, thirty years, right? Well, dear son, this is not the way things work."

"You know very well that I have no authority to take you out of here."

"Yes, I know that, but still, the information you're looking for has a price."

"I don't even know if you really have the information or if you're just bluffing. I don't even know what is this information!"

"I know where she is. Isn't it what you want to know? I know where your dearest wife is. Not her body, a cold and lifeless body, but where she really is, breathing and with her heart beating."

"You're just saying what I want to hear," Draco replied, but he couldn't avoid the wave of emotion that passed through his body. He didn't dare blink, fearing that it was all just a dream and that he would wake up alone in his bed for another hopeless day.

"Actually, no. I'm telling the truth."

"Prove it."

"I can't prove it from here. You'll have to find her to believe me."

"How did you find out where she is?"

"The man who sends me the letters told me."

"Who is he?"

"He's the man who kidnapped her in first place."

"And why does he write to you? If I find out you have something to do with it..."

"Oh my, spare yourself Draco. Don't waste your time. He started writing to me because he was curious about you."

"About me?"

"Yes, about you. He told me what he had done, and wanted some information about you."

"Why?"

"Aren't you capable of guessing? He wanted to know how to hit you."

"He took Ginny to hit me?"

"Now you're being a little too presumptuous, isn't that right? The world doesn't spin around you, son."

"And why didn't you simply help him?"

"And who said that's not exactly what I did?"

"You started to write to me right after that!"

"Yes, but just because I thought it would be advantageous. I started to ask myself what my dear son would be able to do to have his dear wife back." She paused a little. "Tell me, Draco, how far are you willing to go?"

"That doesn't make sense. Two women are dead. He kidnapped Ginny. Why would he kill the others and keep her alive, knowing exactly where she is? Why not finish the job?"

"Just because you don't understand, doesn't mean there's no sense. It could just be beyond your comprehension."

"Where is she?"

"No, no." Narcissa kept a smile. "I've already said that: this information has a price."

"What is it?" Draco asked between clenched teeth.

"A favor."

"Which favor?"

"Well, I don't know yet. I help you now and you owe me a favor. Whenever I need it, I ask you."

"Let's see if I got this straight: you know where Ginny is and, in exchange, you just want me to owe you something?"

"Yes. Obviously, I don't trust your word. I want a magical contract, but, in general, you got it."

"Under one condition," Draco said after a small pause. "The contract has value only if I find her safe. The same Ginny I lost. And only in the case that I find her with your instructions. If what you tell me shows up to be bullshit..."

"Oh, all right, all right. I accept it."

"So tell me: where is she?"

"Not before you seal the contract," Narcissa replied. Malfoy stood up in front of the table. He faced his hurt hands for a second, contemplating what he was about to do. He had said he would be able to sell his soul to the devil if that helped him to find Ginny, but he had never thought he would really get to the point of doing it. Finally, resigned, he started to nudge with his nail one of the cuts in his left hand. Soon, the blood started to flow, bringing pain. Without stopping to think, Draco extended the arm and let a few drips fall on the ground while muttering the right magic words. After the third drip, Narcissa interrupted him.

'That's enough."

"Great. Will you tell me where she is now?" he asked, pulling back his hand and putting on some pression with a tissue to stop the bleeding.

"She's in Scotland."

"Don't you think that's a bit vague?"

"Look for a small town called Harmony Springs. It's close to where the first body was found."

"Harmony Springs..." Draco repeated for an instant, immersed in his own thoughts.

The name was strangely familiar. And then, remembering where he was, "Well, it was a pleasure making business with you. See you never again." And he turned to the door, but before he could open it to call out for a wizard to bring his mother back, Narcissa interrupted him.

"Never again no, my dear. Just until the day we get even."

Ignoring her, Malfoy pulled the knob. He tried to block the threat in his mother's voice, but it was impossible. The threat was there and couldn't be forgotten. "I'll worry about it later," he repeated to himself during all the way back to the pier. He knew he would pay the price, but if it would at least bring Ginny back, he would pay the consequences.

*

Draco stopped the car on the roadside. He opened the door, got out and unfolded a map over the hood. It was already the afternoon. He had left Azkaban as soon as he had finished talking with Narcissa and, as quickly as possible, he went to Edinburgh. He asked Anne to send him an owl with a picture of Ginny that he kept in a drawer of his desk and, a floo powder trip and rented car ride later, he was again in the middle of nowhere and not too sure which way to go. He recognized these roads. It really wasn't far from Erick McDermontt's farm, but he had to leave the main road and now, he wasn't sure if that would be the right way.

He consulted the map for some minutes, cursing all the muggles who were born because of their incapacity of making practical means of transportation and, finally, he came to the conclusion that he was in the right road. He got in the car again and went back to driving. There were no other vehicles in the road. When he finally arrived in Harmony Springs - he was sure he had already heard that name somewhere! The sky was starting to give the first signs of a sunset. Another hour and a half maybe of daylight, but no more than that. He hanged around a little in the main street refusing to ask where the police station was. Finally, he found it. Parking the car, he got out of the car, bringing the picture with him and taking a good look around.

The town wasn't that small, but it couldn't be called a big city. It was well cared and pleasant, with trees in the smaller streets. He could perfectly imagine Ginny living in a place like this. It would be exactly what she would look for. But if she was really alive and here, if she was really okay, why had she never looked for him then? Draco couldn't stop asking himself that. He tried to avoid it, tried not to jump to conclusions, but the doubt was still echoing in his mind. The idea of her passing the last years hiding from him was absurd and, at the same time, absolutely terrifying.

Putting these unpleasant thoughts aside and trying to remember that with some luck he could soon have her in his arms, Draco entered the police station. There was some movement and a few policemen coming and going. He approached the reception and identified himself, asking to talk to the sheriff. In instants, an official took him to a room on the second floor of the building.

"Good afternoon," the sheriff said, extending a hand. Draco shook it quickly and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the other's desk.

"Good afternoon," he replied.

"We don't get much visits from the government's investigators. Especially when they're not coming directly from London. Is there some problem?"

"No, nothing new. Actually, I'm here because of an old missing person case."

"Missing person? Is it in your jurisdiction to investigate that?" Malfoy was starting to get irritated.

"This is a special case. And besides, my interest isn't just professional. Now, if you can help me..."

"Sure. Whatever you need."

"Good. The missing person is a woman. She disappeared ten years ago, when she was twenty two."

"Ten years ago?" The sheriff leaned back in his chair, his expression revealing something.

"Yes, why? Does it mean something to you?"

"Maybe. Tell me, what does this woman look like?"

"I brought a picture with me," Draco said, without taking his eyes off the man as he picked out Ginny's picture in his suitcase and put it on the table. "It's a picture from the time she went missing."

The xeriff took it and immediately a shade of recognition passed his eyes. He knew her! Malfoy's heart started to beat faster in his chest.

"You know her," he affirmed.

"Yes. We don't have too many cases like this around here. What's her name?"

"You don't know her name?"

"Well, I don't know her real name."

"What do you mean 'her real name'?" Draco asked without understanding it. The sheriff stood up and opened the drawer of a big file that was in his room. He took out a folder.

"This is all the data we have about the case. The poor woman arrived in a pitiful state."

"What do you mean?" he asked while opening the folder, but what he saw made him want to close it. There was a picture of her, of Ginny there, probably taken when she had reappeared and her face was full of injuries and wounds. That simple image filled Draco with a renew wave of rage against the bastard who had caused all of it and he silently swore that, no matter what, he would find him and kill him. The sheriff realised his backwardness in checking the file.

"It's not a very pretty case, this one. Not for those who don't have stomach."

"How did she end up here?" Draco asked, ignoring the fathersome voice.

"She came running from the woods to the road, the one you passed to get here. She ran right to the front of a car."

"Was she run over?"

"Yes. But fortunately the person driving the car was one of our doctors. He gave her first aid. Saved her life."

"So she's okay?" It was impossible to hide all the emotion that was in Draco's voice while asking that simple question.

"Yes, she survived, but she couldn't remember anything, the poor girl. She couldn't tell us what had happened, she didn't know anything. Not even her own name. She was in coma for two weeks. We still tried to investigate something, but there wasn't enough evidence. Practically everything we have is in the doctor's report..."

"She doesn't remember anything!..." was all Draco Malfoy could say. His mind was still trying to process the information. So that's why she never came after him. She simply didn't remember... Finally, he released a sigh of relief. She was alive. She was safe.

"Are you okay, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, I am. Do you know where I can find her?"

"Of course. I can go personally with you to Emily's house..."

"Emily?"

"Yes, this was the name she chose after she woke up."

"Emily..." Malfoy still repeated one more time in a distant tone of voice.

"Yes, Emily Watson. She works as a social worker in our hospital now."

"Emily Watson, social worker."

"That's it. What's her real name?"

"Virginia. Virginia Malfoy. She was a teacher."

"And does she have a family?"

"Parents, six brothers, lots of nephews and nieces and a husband."

"My God."

"Yes, it's a big family."

"No, it's not that... It's that, well, she's engaged."

"She's what?" Draco almost felt of his chair.

"Engaged to a doctor. This will be a little complicated when her husband finds out..."

"Yes, undoubtedly," Malfoy replied barely believing what he had just heard.

Engaged? That couldn't be true, could it? "Look, I just want to find her. Can you bring me to her house?" First, he would see her. Then, he would take care of her fiancé...

"Yes, of course. Do you have some new clue on Emily's case, I mean, Virginia's?"

"We have some," Draco answered putting the file back to the sheriff's desk.

"Would you like a copy of it?"

"No," he answered quickly. Really, he didn't want to read all that. It would be too painful. "If I need to later, I'll ask someone to come and pick it up."

"As you like. Let's go," he said, standing up and walking outside of the room. "I'm not sure she's home already. Maybe she's still in the hospital." The sheriff looked at the watch. "Yes, she's probably still working."

"Is the hospital far from here?"

"No, we can go by foot."

"Great. Then why don't we do like this: you go to her house and I go to the hospital? So we won't miss her," Draco suggested, not really wanting someone around when he met her.

"Fine with me. Let me write down..." The sheriff scrabbled something in a piece of paper. "This is her address in case you don't find her, okay?"

"Okay." The other put the paper in his suit pocket.

"And the hospital is three blocks from here. Just walk down this street." Both of them were already outside the police station. "And turn left in the third block. There's no way you can miss the building."

"All right. See you soon," Draco replied, starting to walk.

During the entire walk, he thought his heart would come out of his mouth. He was sweating and his stomach was upside down in anticipation. It was hard to believe that less than two days ago he thought Ginny was dead and now... Now he was so close to have her back that he had to control himself not to run down the street. He had to see her. There was a part of him that would only believe the whole story after seeing her, touching her, smelling her. He had to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

He arrived at the hospital before he could realise. He approached the balcony and with a trembling voice he asked for Emily Watson, social worker. He was given the number of a room on the fifth floor. He tried to wait for the elevator, but he couldn't make it. The damned thing was taking an eternity to come, so he took the stairs, two by two. He arrived up on the fifth floor breathless. He stopped for a few seconds supporting himself on the wall to calm down his breathing and moved towards the room. His heart barely fit in his chest, he was so excited, but it didn't last much. As soon as he reached the door, he saw it was locked, the lights were turned off. Ginny had clearly already left.

His disappointment was evident. He wanted to kick the door till it broke. He was really angry, but there was nothing to be done. He went downstairs again, this time with no hurry, his heartbeat coming back to normal. Would that be his fate? Always looking for her but never finding her, like two parallel lines that will only meet in infinity?

"No," he repeated to himself. "No, she's too close now." And trying to renew his hopes, Draco went out to the street again, wanting to find his way back to the police station, where his car was parked. He started to walk slowly. The sun had already set and the lights were turned on. The night helped, though, with a sky that promised lots of stars. Distractedly, Draco stumbled a little when he suddenly noticed a shade, a glimpse of red on the other side of the street. Almost like a reflex that he had developed along the years - the habit of looking for his Ginny in every red head he found - Draco turned to look at it better. Nothing in his entire life could have prepared him for all the emotion that invaded him in that moment - the sublime moment in which he saw her.

It was her. There, just a few steps away, smiling and carelessly putting her hair behind her ear. It was her - walking calmly, breathing, with all the freckles in the right places. It was her! Draco could barely believe his eyes. He watched her hypnotised, without realising that his legs were moving. It was her. He wasn't dreaming, hallucinating. It was her - his Ginny, his love, his wife.

He followed her without realising, his feet moving due to a mysterious force. Now that she was in reach of his hands, Draco was, for a few moments, happy to simply see her, he was finally tasting the happiness of having her alive. From the distance with which he was watching, she was exactly how he remembered - the same face, the same eyes, the same lips. No difference. At least, not that he could see. Maybe there would be some: new wrinkles, lines of expression that weren't there before and a certain emptiness in her look, but he was too in love to realise. She was his Ginny and this was the only thought his mind seemed to comprehend.

Finally, just looking at her wasn't enough. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, solid and real against his chest. He wanted to hug her and pretend that the last ten years hadn't happened, that he was just meeting her after an argument, ready to apologise, ready to start again. He moved faster to reach her. Finally, he approached Ginny when she stopped to look at a shop window, but when she took a step towards the shop entrance; he pulled her. Draco probably used a little more strength than necessary, but he didn't even notice. He turned her abruptly and, holding her by the elbows, he could see that there was no doubt; it really was her.

"My God, Ginny, it's you!" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"It's you!" he repeated, finally letting all the happiness stuck in his chest flow out through his face. My God, he loved her so much! That moment, he didn't think that she couldn't remember him, he didn't think that he looked like insane, he didn't think of anything else. He just let the almost physical need of hugging her, feeling her, lead him.

He probably used too much strength again in the hug. He couldn't tell. The only thing he knew when he felt that smell again and the almost forgotten weight of her head on his shoulder, was that he was happy. He was happier than ever before.

In that single moment, for the first time in ten years, Draco Malfoy felt at home.