Desired Life

Desired Life

Chapter Two:

Ashes to Ashes

By: FireSprite and MochaButterfly

***

Ginny clutched the book to her chest as she hurried down out of the attic. Her mind was racing, and her heart was pounding, but she couldn't think anything clearly or rational. The only thought she had was that she had to get rid of the book. She had to destroy it.

At the bottom of the attic staircase, she paused, looking around. What should she do? Shred the book with her wand and flush it down the toilet? No, shreds were too easy to put back together. Voldemort would easily be able to retrieve them from the piping if he wished.

She would burn it. Yes, that would work best. Then she'd flush the ashes away. It would be impossible for any wizard, powerful or not, to reform ashes into a book.

Ginny went downstairs into the living room and started a fire with her wand. The flames were tall and devoured the wood hungrily. Taking in a deep breath, she threw the book into the fireplace before she could think twice.

Then she dropped onto the sofa, staring as the fire licked around the hard edges of the cover. Slowly, it began to curl and burn, giving the flames access to the entire book.

Relief flooded Ginny's body, and she began to relax. Her head cleared and she was able to think a bit better, now that she knew the book was just about destroyed.

It was taken care of. In a moment, she would put out the fire and scoop out the ashes to flush away. Then the map that Voldemort was probably desperately seeking would be gone.

She closed her eyes briefly, and pictured the map as clearly as if it were in front of her. For a moment she imagined what it would be like, if she could find the fountain before anyone else, perhaps destroy it before Voldemort got to it . . .

With a gasp, her eyes flew open. She realised something that made her heart drop into her stomach.

She knew the map by heart.

Even if the map itself was gone, she was still here. She was a living map. If Voldemort couldn't get the real one, he would know that she had it in her possession. Somehow, he would figure out that she could lead him there.

Panic rose in her again, and she forced herself to be calm. She wouldn't get anywhere if she couldn't think properly.

Leaving the fire to continue burning, even though the book was a pile of soot, she stood on trembling legs and went upstairs. In their room, Harry was sleeping soundly. Ginny sat on the edge of the bed beside him, staring down at him. Normally he woke up so easily . . . it was good to know he was finally having an excellent night's rest.

Ginny sighed deeply, glancing at his face. The room was dark, and she could barely make out his features. Still, she found him so beautiful her heart ached.

What was she going to do? Voldemort was most likely sending someone over to their flat that very moment to retrieve the book. He had to know where it was. He was too smart to be unable to find out something so simple.

It was leading him to Harry. Even though the two had had countless encounters before, and Harry had always survived, Ginny knew that this time Voldemort wasn't after him. He would deal with Harry once he became invincible.

This time, Voldemort was after Ginny. He wasn't aware of it yet, but once he found that the book was gone and Ginny had indeed seen the map, he would take her. Torture her, use her to find the fountain he so desperately needed.

Ginny was aware of how much Harry loved her. It would just kill him, she knew, if Voldemort took her. Harry would kill himself trying to get her back. And then she wouldn't be able to bear it - the thought of not only him being dead, but knowing she'd caused it.

I can't stay here, she thought, sighing again.

There was only one other option, and that was to leave. But it was a ridiculous option. Where would she go? If she left, she couldn't tell anyone. They'd come after her. She had too many people who loved her to the point of killing themselves to get to her. She couldn't tell a soul.

Yet how could she stay? If she did, there was a chance Harry could be killed. If she left, then everyone would be safe. Or, at least, as safe as they had been even with Voldemort killing just about every person he came across.

If I stay, she thought with a spark of hope, then there's only a slight chance Harry could be killed. Who knew if Voldemort would even suspect she knew the map by heart? Maybe he would just look over that choice.

That was just hoping, though. Voldemort was an insanely intelligent person. He would try every method possible to achieve what he wanted. It didn't matter who got hurt or who he killed in the process.

Besides, if she stayed, she was just being selfish. She was just doing what she wanted, to be around everyone she loved. She would have to leave if she wanted to keep them safe.

Ginny absently brushed a strand of hair off Harry's forehead, her heart heavy. Then she leaned over and brushed her lips over his. The warmth of his body was so inviting, she almost gave in to the temptation of resting on top of him and falling asleep, to forget every trouble that was bothering her.

But she had to be realistic. She would have to solve it soon - tonight - if she wanted to absolutely sure that he would be safe.

She stood and forced herself to leave the room. Drifting back downstairs, she sunk to the floor before the fireplace, trying to think.

No matter how much thought, the best idea that came to her was to leave Harry. To leave everyone. Just pack a few clothes, leave no note to anyone, and take the next train out of the country.

I'll go to France, she decided, almost in attempt to buoy her spirits. She'd always wanted to go to France.

Ginny curled her legs to her and rested her chin on her knees. Even if she left, Voldemort or Death Eaters would come to their home anyway, searching for her. And Harry would be here. There was a big chance that he'd be at work when they came for her, but knowing him, once he found her gone without a trace, he'd stay home all day in hopes that she'd come home. So the bottom line was, she had to figure some way to get Harry to leave the flat, and pray he'd stay away long enough to avoid trouble.

Maybe she would leave a note. Say that she'd gone back to the Burrow because her mother had wanted some company. Then Harry would go to work, assuming nothing was wrong. It would take him until that evening to realise she hadn't come home yet, and then he'd go over to the Weasleys. Hopefully, by the time he returned home, the Death Eaters would've already come and left evidence that they'd been there, so he would know it wasn't safe.

It was the best she could do, she told herself. The best she could do without telling anyone anything.

She pushed herself to her feet and pulled out her wand. She quickly put out the fire. The lack of heat and light suddenly made her feel her mood - dark, cold, and empty.

It was what she had to do.

Trying to keep the tears under her lids, she turned and went to pack.

* * *

Draco strode down the long hall, his cape billowing out from behind him, as though he was angry and upset. His mind was working furiously, buzzing about with bits and pieces of half-formed plans and ideas.

Ginny Weasley.

The youngest Weasley of them all. My, my, he thought. He hardly remembered the girl... The last thing he remembered of her was his last year at Hogwarts. She had been yelling at Harry over something, and he remembered never knowing someone could have so much passion inside of them. Especially this one.She looked so sweet and calm from the outside.

It was apparent the Weasley temper reputation followed her. Harry must have done something pretty bad to get her this mad. She was yelling so hard, her face was red, her voice becoming rapidly husky and she looked about to curse him.

He'd never seen anyone look so alive as she did that day. But he had moved on, rapidly becoming the aloof Malfoy once again. And had forgotten the scene until tonight.

He entered his private quarters, slamming the door, liking the sound it made. Satisfying, the sound was as it reverberated throughout the house. Walking over to his chair by the fire, Draco sat down, taking a drink of whisky that was carefully prepared by house-elves for him. Sipping it, letting it slide down his throat, the burning feeling welcome, he wondered how he would find Ginny Weasley. Where had she gone after Hogwarts? he wondered.

He didn't know where many of the Hogwarts graduates went after finishing. Except for those inside Voldemort's circle, he hadn't met anyone else since leaving and coming to stay in Malfoy Manor permanently. It had been a while, he mused, since he had even walked down Knockturn Alley.

Trying to find Ginny though... He sat and thought. He couldn't very well go to the Weasley household - nor would he want to - and ask the whereabouts of their youngest daughter. That would prove fatal, he knew. No family was more protective of their children then the Weasleys.

It seemed as though he would have to call in a few favours owed to him. Getting up quickly, he slammed down the goblet full of whiskey so hard on the table, the liquid sloshed over the rim and onto his hand. Flicking his wrist, ignoring the liquid, Draco strode over to his closet.

He would have to leave soon, tonight preferably, to make sure everything fell into their proper place by the weeks' end. If he was lucky, he'd have a lead by morning; but Draco Malfoy didn't believe in luck.

He grabbed a bag, pushing it down on his bed, and headed for the fireplace. Snatching a green bottle off the mantle-piece, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fire, causing the flames to turn blue, then green.

"Sierra," he almost shouted, "get into my room right away!" He didn't even wait for an affirmation from Sierra. He knew she'd come. She was trying so hard to please him. So far, he was happy. He wasn't bored yet with her. She was still young and nubile, perfect for Draco. She was always willing to try new things and was very enthusiastic; perhaps he might have kept her around for a few weeks if this hadn't come up.

He walked over to his closet, grabbing things from hangers. This and that, he threw onto his bed. Pants, sweaters, anything he could find that was Muggle-like in appearance. He didn't know what Ginny could be doing, and it was always safe this way.

Someone knocked on the door and Draco knew it was Sierra.

"Come in," he said, stuffing some of the clothes on his bed into the sack.

"You wanted to see me?" Sierra's nervous voice said, as she entered the room. Draco didn't like to see her before ten o'clock, usually. The middle of the day was unexpected.

"I'm leaving," he said, his voice clipped and short. He finished packing, adding a small flack just in case and stood up, looking at the girl. For once, he looked at her, actually looked at her. She looked smaller than he remembered, her hair slightly mussed and her eyes wide and bright. She was scared of him, he realised. But she wanted him. He could tell; it was all in the body language. "Goodbye," he said, without tone.

"What?" Sierra said, almost a whisper. "But you can't - we just - you said -"

"I lied." Draco smirked. "You didn't think I actually loved you?" He could tell by her face she actually had. "Darlin'," he drawled, "I was using you to get into your pants. And I must say it worked quite wonderfully. Perhaps next time you shouldn't let a man so easily in your bed." Smirking still, he pushed her out of the door and slammed it in front of her startled, sad face.

Walking over to his desk, he draped his cloak over the chair and grabbed his wand, immediately performing the spell for apparating to Knockturn Alley.

He had a job to do. He had to find Ginny Weasley.

***

Ginny wrote the note to Harry, trying to control her trembling hand. Her feet ached to carry her back up the stairs and say goodbye to him - but she couldn't. She knew if she saw him again, she wouldn't ever leave.

She needed to be strong. She couldn't think of herself now. Too many people that she loved could be hurt.

Satisfied with the note, glad it seemed to be written by someone who wasn't shaking with sadness, she set it on the counter. Then she turned, hoisted her bag of clothes over her shoulder, and grabbed some money from her wallet to stuff in her pocket. She didn't want to bring her purse - she knew it would be risky for Harry to notice she hadn't taken it to visit her parents, but she couldn't carry identification on her.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny left the house as quietly as she could. Outside, the streets were quiet and deserted; everyone was asleep. She wished she were, too, with only the thought of how Harry would be depressed each day after work when he came home. Suddenly that didn't seem so terrible, because she would be with him.

Stop it, Ginny snapped at herself. Don't think of him. Don't.

She hurried down the sidewalk. When she was far enough away from their flat, she reached for her wand and raised her right hand. An instant later, the loud, roaring Knight Bus plopped down in front of her.

The doors opened and an elderly man stepped out. "Signal for the Knight Bus, Miss?" he asked, squinting in the darkness at her.

"Yes," she replied shortly, stepping up with money in her hand.

She paid him and got on. She choose a bed on the third topmost level, and even though the only person that shared the floor with her was a young woman lying with her arms wrapped around her sleeping son towards the front, she was sure to sit in the back corner.

The bus jerked and was off again. Ginny set her things beside her bed and lay down, but knew she wasn't going to fall asleep. Fatigue and sorrow was coursing through her body, yet her mind was racing with too many ideas to even close her eyes.

So she would head to France. She couldn't take the Knight Bus the entire way; it wasn't that the bus physically couldn't, but by the time it did Harry would know she was missing, and she would want to be blended in with Muggles by the time he realised she was gone.

Maybe the bus would just take her down to the coast, and she'd take Muggle transportation from there. Yes, that seemed like a good plan, and then she'd go to France and start her new life as . . . a Muggle.

Ginny sighed deeply. She was about to stand up and tell the driver her destination when the old man who had let her on appeared by her bedside. He was holding a cup of steaming hot chocolate, despite the fact she hadn't paid for any.

"It's free," the man said kindly, smiling and revealing several missing teeth. "You look as if you can use some colour in your face."

Ginny, who was not in the mood for anything to put in her stomach, nodded anyway and thanked him with a tiny smile. She told him where she wanted to go, and he went back down to inform the driver.

She drank the hot chocolate as rapidly as she could, only so she didn't seem ungrateful for it. Setting the empty cup beside her bed, she peeled back the covers and crawled under, mashing her face into the pillow and trying to forget everything.

Yet there was still one question circling in her mind. Had her Nanan known about the book and its powers? Had Nanan given it to Ginny, while there were six other perfectly able grandchildren in the Weasley family alone, for a reason?

Eventually, troubled by confusion, Ginny fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

Hermione inspected the ancient urn for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Tonight she was working far later than usual - it was nearly five in the morning now. She knew she wouldn't get any sleep this night, and she hadn't made any advances since the day before, even though she'd been looking at it nearly all day long.

Was that thing the warrior was holding - the object Hermione had first mistaken for a broken arrow - was it a wand? It was possible, of course, but very peculiar - several wizards in South America had dug it up about a year ago and sent it over to the Ministry of Magic for more extensive studying. However, the many years that had passed since it was made was what made the whole thing so puzzling. South American wizards hadn't existed until the early fifteenth century, when they migrated down from North America. So technically there was no such thing as a pure "South American" wizard.

The urn, however, was just barely shy of 3,000 years old. There was no doubt of its age. Hermione was well aware, of course, that it was possible that if this indeed was an artefact of wizards, it could've been brought down from North America when the wizards and witches moved south.

Still, there was the pressing question on Hermione's mind, troubling her even more then the horrendous headache she had. Why did the Ministry think it was so important? Why were they so eager for Hermione to figure out how it worked? For all she could tell, it seemed just like a regular urn that was made thousands of years ago.

Hermione looked very closely at the man who held what appeared to be a wand. He seemed very confident indeed; as though he could take on the entire army, all yielding arrows, single-handedly.

"Hermione?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin and dropped the urn, but caught herself just in time. Looking up, she saw Harry staring apprehensively in front of her. He must've Apparated there, and she'd been so absorbed in the artefact she hadn't heard the distinct pop of his arrival.

"Harry," she said quietly, setting the urn down on the lab table. "What are you doing here? It's nearly daylight."

He scowled at her, and she knew she was in for scolding. "What are you doing still at work?" he demanded. "You should've gone home hours ago, Hermione; you work too hard."

"Oh, I know," Hermione said breezily, waving her hand. "I'll go home early today. Promise."

His gaze softened, and for the first time she noticed he was troubled. "All right," he said.

"What's up, Harry?" Hermione asked carefully. Something told her it had to do with Ginny.

"It's Ginny," Harry replied, and she almost smiled to herself; she could read her best friend like an open book. "She, um, she went to visit her parents."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Did you two have a fight?" she said, trying to be soothing. "Don't worry, Harry, she'll come back; she always does -"

"No, we didn't fight," he told her abruptly, causing her to raise her eyebrows. "We went to bed as normal, and I woke suddenly in the middle of the night to find her gone. I looked everywhere . . . and came downstairs and found this note."

He held out a small piece of parchment, and Hermione took it to read. Ginny's handwriting, unusually wavy at some places, covered it in emerald ink.

Harry,

I've gone to visit Mum and Dad. I heard Bill's coming home this week, so I would like to see him. I will be back in a few days. Go to work and go out to eat, okay? Don't try and cook for yourself; you know what a disaster that is.

All my love,

Ginny

Hermione smiled at the last line and handed the letter back. "Harry, it seems perfectly feasible. Why are you worried about it?"

Harry stared down at it one last time, folded it, and stuffed it back in his pocket before meeting her eyes again. "I'm not entirely sure, Hermione," he answered truthfully. "It's just - well, the little things. Why'd she go in the middle of the night? Did she wake up and have an urge to return home? And she's never, ever signed a letter all my love. It's normally just love or see you soon . . . and she also says, go to work. Why put such a silly thing? Did she think I wouldn't if she was only visiting her parents? But I think the thing that really gets me is that we got a letter from Bill about three days ago. He says he's working on a really big case in Gringotts - something about a goblin mistaking a customer for a robber and leaving the poor bloke down in the tunnels to starve to death - and he mentioned how he wouldn't even be able to sleep for another week. How could he come home if he was working on something so important?"

"Maybe they solved it quicker than they expected," Hermione offered, trying desperately to put the light back in Harry's eyes. She personally thought he was overacting about something so small.

"Maybe . . ." Harry trailed off.

"Look, Harry, if you're so worried about her, then just go to the Weasleys and see if she's there," she said. "Have you seen Ron yet?"

"Well, no," he said. "You know how Ron is - for one, he's sleeping and will be royally pissed if I woke him, and another he'd go insane if I expressed my troubles to him. He'd overreact even more than me."

A flicker of a smile crossed his face.

Hermione smiled, too. "Here's my suggestion, Harry," she said. "Go home and go to sleep. Go to work. If you find the time, send an owl to the Weasleys and make sure she arrived there safely. Don't worry about it anymore tonight . . . er, this morning."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "All right, Hermione. See you. You will go home now, won't you?"

She smiled wider. "Sure. I'll just have to clean up."

He nodded again, waved goodbye, and Disapparated.

Hermione sighed and returned to the urn. There was no use trying to get any sleep tonight - she'd be waking up in a half hour to get ready for work anyway.

* * *

Harry Apparated outside the house Ginny and him shared and went to open to door. Half way through getting the key in the slot, he stopped and sighed. Taking a look at the note now crumpled in his hand, he made a quick decision.

Something was off. He knew Ginny; he knew her well. And judging by her handwriting, the one that had sent him many letters and notes over the years, he could tell that there was a problem when she had written it. What, he didn't know, but he would find out. She needn't suffer alone.

His face grave, Harry took the key out of the lock and Apparated to Ron's. He, of anyone, would know. Ginny trusted Ron in ways she had never trusted Harry.

***

Ron opened one bleary eye, saw Harry and slammed to door in his face. Yawning, he turned around, absently scratching the back of his thigh and went back to bed. As he settled under the covers, his eyes closing blissfully, he ignored Harry's shouts to open the door.

Two minutes later, Ron opened his eyes and glared in the general direction of the pounding. He'd never get any sleep. Grumbling, he tossed the covers aside and walked back to the front door where Harry was still hitting the door.

"What?" Ron snapped, opening the door so fast Harry almost fell in. "What is so important that you had to-" he glanced at the clock and cursed, "-wake me up at five bloody o'clock in the fucking morning?"

"Is Ginny here?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron's question.

Ron yawned, loud and long, before replying. "No. She's probably asleep in your bed, Harry. Why don't you check there?" He went to close the door, but Harry stuck his foot in between the door and the wall.

"She left me a note," Harry told him.

"Oh. Well, obviously something is afoot. We'll have to call in the Aurors, now! No, wait; let's get the Muggle policemen into this too. Actually, let's just put out 'Missing Person' ads now."

"Ron," Harry stressed. "Read it." He shoved the crumpled note into Ron's hand. Rubbing his eye with the heel of the palm before reading, Ron scanned the note.

"Harry," Ron said, as though he was talking to a five-year-old. "It says right here that she's gone to Mum's. Honestly, what is your problem?"

"But look at what she said," Harry said, pointing to the words. "And how it's written. Her hand was shaking when she was writing this."

"Argh," Ron grumbled. "Harry. Please. She was probably in a rush to see Bill. Gods knows how long it has been since she's seen him."

"So she had to leave in the middle of the night?" Harry pressed, sceptical still.

"Sure," Ron shrugged. "Look. Ginny got excited, most likely, knowing Bill was back. She packed a few things and left. It's not like she was kidnapped or ran away or anything. Why would she do that?

"Yes," Harry said, his lips pressed in a thin line. "But... Still..."

"Are you going to let this go?" Ron asked, looking at Harry in exasperation. "Are you going to let me get my sleep?!"

Harry said nothing.

"Let me go change, then," Ron sighed, and slammed the door in Harry's face once again.

***

Draco leaned back in his chair, his eyebrow raised in question and an icy sneer on his lips. He hoped to appear intimidating, but Daniels was showing no signs of being afraid. He only looked tired, and this was acceptable, being it was past five in the morning.

"So you've found her," Draco said simply, narrowing his eyes and just daring Daniels to look away.

"We have," he replied in a surprisingly smooth voice.

Draco's respect for the man in front of him was growing. At first he had thought him weak, but he was now proving himself almost worthy to be in Draco's presence. Perhaps Daniels would become a Death Eater yet.

As Voldemort had risen to power, slowly and quietly, the Ministry desperate to keep everything hush-hush, he had got many followers just out of pure fear. Those followers weren't yet trustworthy enough to be Death Eaters - therefore, there was a period of time they had to prove themselves. They did this by working under the real Death Eaters, mostly just finding out things for them. And Daniels, along with several others, had had the job of finding out where Ginny lived currently.

There was a long stretch of silence, and the points Daniels had won with Draco quickly evaporated.

"Well?" Draco asked sharply, impatient. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to tell me anything?"

Daniels jumped, as though he hadn't thought of it. "You requested the information about Weasley," he said, reaching into his robes and producing a folder, "and I wrote everything we found out. So you have it in writing."

He clearly expected praise for being so brilliant, but all he received was a scowl as Draco took the folder.

"Get of out here," Draco snarled, and Daniels retreated instantly.

Draco was in the office his father had given him, the closest he came to congratulating his son on becoming a Death Eater. Draco wasn't complaining about the lack of pride Lucius revealed, since the room was spacious and nicely furnished.

Propping his feet up on his desk, he dropped the folder into his lap. He opened it, and was greeted by a picture of Ginny grinning widely at him. She didn't move except for blinking every now and then, but as he studied her face, she finally got tired of smiling and stopped doing so.

Draco smiled himself. It was a very different smile, of course, because it was cold and the purpose of it wasn't because he was happy. It was because the youngest Weasley looked exactly as she had in Hogwarts, except maybe for years' knowledge that shined in her eyes. She looked wonderfully innocent, and he knew then charming her wouldn't be a problem in the least. If he was lucky, he might be able to persuade her to come with him without even using magic.

He flipped her picture aside and began to read through what Daniels had written about her. Age: 21. Birthday: May 13th, 1981. . . Draco skimmed all the boring facts about her until something caught his eye.

Resides with Harry Potter.

He snorted. Of course. They were married. And they probably made a disgustingly perfect couple. All at once he was glad he had this job - not only would be bring the tool that Voldemort needed for invincibility, but he would ruin Harry's life in the process.

Excellent.

However, he didn't read far enough. Right after that sentence was one word - Unmarried.

Well, it didn't matter. If they lived together, obviously they were in love. It would most likely still wrench Harry's heart from his chest . . . maybe it would drive him to suicide, if Draco was lucky enough.

His spirits just about as high as they could get, Draco tossed the folder aside and smiled again.

Yes, this definitely was going to be a very fun job.

* * *

Harry and Ron Apparated to the Burrow. When they arrived the room was empty and dark - obviously, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still asleep. Ron muttered something about how he still should have been, too.

Suddenly Harry felt a little ashamed. "They won't be upset at being woken up, will they?" he asked.

"Why do we need to wake them up? We'll just check Ginny's room. She's bound to be sleeping there, and then you'll see there's nothing to be worrying about." Ron said the last part of the sentence bitterly.

So they headed up to the third floor landing, where Ginny's bedroom was. Harry went ahead a knocked gently, and without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, but it didn't take very much to see that Ginny's bed was smooth and made. There was no sign anyone had even sat on top of the sheets.

"Maybe she's having a snack in the kitchen," Ron said lamely.

"I'm going to wake your parents up," Harry announced, forgetting about being reluctant to wake them.

Harry had never been in Molly and Arthur's bedroom before, but it was evident it was the biggest bedroom in the house. Up against one wall was a large bed, lumpy with two sleeping forms. Loud snores that Harry recognised to be emitted from Mrs. Weasley filled the air, and he wondered how it was possible for anyone to fall asleep in a five mile vicinity, much less the same house, and very much less the same bed.

"I'll do it," Ron volunteered.

He didn't sound so sleepy anymore.

Harry nodded and watched Ron, almost cautiously, approach the bed and nudge his mother gently. It took him three tries before Mrs. Weasley jerked awake with a loud, "Whassat?" She rolled over, blinking the sleep from her eyes, and saw her youngest son standing beside her.

"Ronald?" she asked thickly.

"Yeah, Mum. Is Ginny -?"

Beside her, Mr. Weasley woke up, too. "What's wrong?" he asked a bit stupidly.

"Is Ginny here?" Harry hurried to put in.

Molly sat up and squinted through the darkness. Her hair was in rollers. "Harry?" she said. Then, the fact that someone besides her family was in her room sinking in, she put a hand to her head. "Oh! I must look terrible. Excuse me, boys."

She scrambled into an adjoining room, which had to have been the loo.

Ron scowled at her, then turned back to his father. "Dad, did Ginny come -?" he tried again.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" Arthur cut in, sitting up. He half-heartedly tried to smooth down what hair he had left. "It's . . . nearly five thirty in the morning."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Dad." Ron appeared to be controlling his temper. "Is Ginny here?"

"Where?" Arthur said through a yawn. He must've still been half asleep.

"Here. At the Burrow," Ron explained slowly.

"No. Why would she be?"

Ron met Harry's eyes before Harry turned and strode from the room.

He knew it! He knew there was something weird with Ginny's letter. Even if no one else had seen it, he had. And now they'd wasted time they could've been using to find out where she went.

Why would she leave?

The question surfaced in his mind, quickly followed by Maybe she doesn't want to be found.

Well, if she didn't want to be found, that meant she wanted to get away from him. And Harry knew that if Ginny was breaking up with him, she would tell him to his face and try and explain. She wouldn't leave a fake note and just leave without a word to him. That wasn't her style.

Something wasn't right. And he intended to find out what wasn't as soon as humanly possible.

***

Draco stepped onto the gravel outside the house where Ginny was supposed to live with Harry. He sneered, a reflex as he looked at the house. Quaint. The only word that came to mind was how quaint the place would be. All nicely wrapped up in a small package.

"Yegods," he whispered to himself. "It's worse than I thought it would be." Shaking his head, he walked up to the door, waving his wand and whispering an incantation to open the door. Dark magic, but it worked--the door opened.

Draco stepped inside and almost winced. It was like a little cottage. Oh, it almost hurt to look at it. A fireplace, a cozy couch with blankets strewn across them, coffee cups, pictures waving and smiling and the whole place had a happy atmosphere.

How could they live like this?

Trying not to shudder or be sick, Draco walked in, his boots making a nice thudding sound as he walked across the wood surface, towards the couch. It looked as though someone had been recently there. Pressing his hand against the blanket, he felt warmth. Yes, someone had recently been sleeping here, less than half an hour ago.

So, where were they?

Taking a long look around the room, Draco decided that they weren't downstairs. He could see the kitchen from here. Walking over, he ran his hand over the surface and looked at his fingers. Coffee grounds. That was it. And a pad of parchment and a quill. Other than that the whole place was clean and tidy.

"Well at least they're clean," he said to himself.

Walking upstairs, Draco moved quietly on the stairs, making sure none of them creaked. Once upstairs, he paused, holding his breath and checking to see if he could hear any sounds of sleeping or movement. Were they not home? he wondered.

Following the hall, Draco walked into the last room on the floor. The Master bedroom greeted him. Hmmm, Draco thought. If there was any indication as to where Ginny might be or perhaps just where the book was (How easy would that be? he thought. Grab the book and leave; would solve this all.) it'd be here.

Crossing the room, Draco pulled open the dresser door and sifted through its contents. Clothes, underwear, bras, this must be Ginny's drawer. Pulling out another drawer, he noticed it was almost bear. Yanking out the last drawer, Draco noticed that the clothes seemed to have been sitting there for ages. She doesn't wear these anymore, he though, holding up a tiny T-shirt. It looked like the shirt would fit an infant

Some of her clothes are missing, Draco realised. There were hardly any clothes in these drawers, Ginny would definitely have more than these few items and unless... Quickly he walked over to the closet and yanked it open. Yes, it was all Potter's stuff. Nodding, his theory confirmed, Draco swore rather creatively.

Ginny had fled already.

***

His jaw clenched in frustration, Draco ran down the stairs, taking two at a time. This was not what he had planned. He was supposed to track Weasley down, intimidate her with his sneer and height, then grab the book and hand it over to Voldemort, who would praise him indefinitely and make him second in command, whence he would take over Voldemort and rule all.

Why did nothing work to his way? he thought. All I wanted was a little ruling, power, a slave or two. Is it so hard to ask for that?

Reaching the living room, Draco was about to grab the nearest thing and throw it against the wall in a wail of self-pity when he saw something by the fire grate. Ashes.

Coming closer, Draco crouched down on his knees and inspected them. It looked as if something had been purposely burnt. Narrowing his eyes, Draco dipped two fingers into the ashes and brought them to his nose. Sniffing, his heart sunk.

These ashes weren't wood ashes. Wood ashes had a more primitive smell. These ashes... They had burnt something magical. It was obvious by how Draco's senses buzzed when he sniffed the ashes. Magic.

She wouldn't have... She couldn't have!

"Bitch," he whispered.

In a rage, Draco stood up and stared at the ashes for a moment, unable to believe what he suspected. No, no. She wouldn't. She couldn't know they were after her.

Unless Potter had told her... Draco didn't know how close they were. Would Potter tell her classified information? Clenching his jaw again, Draco sighed heavily. He would have to track Ginny down now, and find out what she had done exactly with the book.

It was not his day today.

So, where was she, then? Draco hadn't the faintest idea where Ginny would be at this point. Taking out a piece of parchment, he scanned the information his confidant had given him on one Virginia Elizabeth Weasley.

Works at Miss. Mudane's Magical Books.

Well... He knew where that was. Diagon Alley. Perhaps she was working today, unaware that people were after her and what the book held. One could always hope.

Can't say I didn't try, Draco thought to himself as he walked out the front door and locked it again.

I hate Weasleys, he thought as he Disapparated.

***

Authors' Note: Whew! It's finally done. Sorry for the wait, everyone, it's been really busy. Well, we thought that if we wrote out individual thank yous for the reviews it would take an extra two months, so there's none this time, but next time we will do that. Thank you, though, for everyone who reviewed. We love you guys!