Cherchez La Femme

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 5: What You Wish For

Thanks to immense energy on Sirius' part, and the contributions of the House Elves he'd hired to assist with cleaning the interior (working only union hours - Hermione would be proud, Harry thought to himself), the house was ready in a week's time as promised. Harry, Ginny and their fellow Aurors placed a number of complicated enchantments around the entire grounds to completely secure the area, and even managed to transport the Delacours and their entourage - which besides the many Aurors included memory specialists, a medical team and magical tutors - without incident.

Watching Madame Delacour and Fleur hover anxiously around Gabrielle's sickbed, Harry realised he'd never been in a household consisting only of witches. The only wizarding family with whom he'd spent any amount of time was the Weasleys and they were decidedly heavy on the Y chromosomes. Gabrielle never altered in her manner towards him, but when he was around all three of the Delacour women Harry sometimes felt superfluous.

Being immune to Veela influence, Ginny was placed in charge of supervising the safety of Gabrielle and her family, a job she carried out with gusto. As the situation with Seamus deteriorated, however, even Fleur was finally moved to ask her, "What is wrong?"

They were sitting in the large living room, alone. Ginny sighed and gave Fleur a condensed version of the past several weeks' events.

Fleur frowned sympathetically. "You have tried feather boas?" she asked in all seriousness. "Wigs, whips - you have tried these things and still he goes?"

Ginny stared. "Um, no. Hadn't even considered it, frankly. Are you revealing the Veela secrets of universal charm and allure?"

"No, of course not. Veela women do not need such things. I was only thinking of your situation."

"Thanks, I guess." Ginny looked at Fleur uncertainly, not sure if she were being mocked. "I guess I'll just let my life go to hell in a handbag, as usual."

Fleur glanced at Ginny's Prada bag approvingly. "As long as the handbag is fashionable, I am sure you have done the best you can."

"Comforting as this conversation has been, I hope you'll excuse me while I go outside, okay?" Ginny stood up.

Fleur shrugged. "As you like."

"What's with her?" asked Harry, just coming inside as Ginny steamed past.

"Love."

"Oh, right. Seamus." Harry watched Ginny through the long French windows for a moment, then returned his attention to Fleur. "How's Gabrielle?"

"Better. Her memory therapy sessions are longer, now. She is remembering a bit more each day." Fleur studied Harry for a moment, then a slight smile came to her face and she continued, "And your godfather seems to have taken quite an interest in my mother."

"What? Sirius?" Harry eyed Fleur with some suspicion. "I haven't noticed anything."

"That is because you are not around every day. And because you are a man. Of course you do not notice."

"I notice things," Harry protested, looking outside again and wincing as Ginny gave Sirius' hedges some unneeded pruning with a blast from her wand.

Harry wheeled from the window and faced Fleur. "Does Gabrielle know?"

A displeased look returned to Fleur's eyes. "She can barely remember her own childhood. You think she is noticing something like that? What does it matter, anyway, if she notices or not?"

"I guess it doesn't. Sorry." Harry was too distracted by Fleur's announcement to care if she was annoyed with him. "How do you know Sirius has…taken an interest in your mother?"

Fleur shrugged. "See for yourself," she offered and pointed outside.

Harry followed her gesture and saw Sirius and Madame Delacour approaching the house. Her hand was tucked alongside Sirius' arm and they appeared to be having a very animated conversation. He was startled to hear Fleur laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Your face. I 'ave never seen you so surprised."

Even though he was the object of her fun, Harry didn't mind. Fleur's laughter was very musical, a pleasant sound rather than a mocking one. He wondered fleetingly if Gabrielle laughed in the same way; he'd never heard her laugh.

* * * * *

Harry may not have heard Gabrielle laugh, but he was starting to see her smile more. She even started showing signs of a sense of humour, as was demonstrated when Harry brought Ron out to follow up on Gabrielle's statements about Lucius Malfoy.

"Gabrielle?" Harry knocked at her door. Carefully opening it, he saw Fleur sitting at her sister’s bedside. "There’s someone I’d like you to talk to." He swung the door open the rest of the way and entered with Ron.

"This is Ron Weasley, Ginny’s brother. He’s working with the Ministry to prosecute Death Eaters. As you might imagine, his office is very interested in the things you’ve told us about Lucius Malfoy."

Gabrielle had been studying Ron as Harry spoke, and now she smiled and held out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"And I think you remember Fleur?" Harry turned to Ron, who appeared dazzled by the presence of the two sisters. Fleur nodded but did not shake hands. Instead, her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and she glanced from Ron back to her sister.

"You don’t have to worry about speaking with Ron," explained Harry. "Everything will remain confidential. Ron’s signed the Wizarding Secrets Act, all of that. He just wants to clarify some things from the statements you’ve given."

"Of course." Gabrielle smiled charmingly; each week she was away from the hospital, Harry realised, her face became more animated, her features came more alive. "When you told me a Ministry legal expert would be visiting," she said, still watching Ron, "I expected some elderly, white-haired man – you didn’t tell me he would be so…young."

Fleur snorted. "Gabrielle, don’t be foolish," she said sharply. "You 'ave seen only 'arry and now his friend since your escape. They are 'ere in a professional capacity, not for your entertainment."

Gabrielle turned her eyes to Fleur. Still smiling with mischief she said, "Well, I am quite satisfied with what I have seen so far."

Fleur’s jaw set into a hard angle and she gave Ron and Harry looks more threatening than Gabrielle’s own mother could have produced. "Do you mind if I stay?"

"Of course not," grinned Harry, then stopped smiling when he looked over again at Ron, who was still a little glassy-eyed and staring at Gabrielle. Ron had always been somewhat more susceptible to Veela influence. "Uh, excuse us a moment," he muttered. Grabbing Ron’s arm, he dragged him out of the room and closed the door.

"Get hold of yourself!" he commanded, shaking Ron. "You can’t be looking at her like that."

"Like what?"

"You know." Harry couldn’t help smiling a bit. "Maybe I should have Hermione come out here – bet she’d keep you on a tighter leash."

Now Ron scowled. "I’m not the one in need of restraint."

"Go on, Ron," laughed Harry. "I saw you just now. If Hermione had seen you looking at another woman like that she’d have kicked your –"

"Just drop it, okay?"

Ron’s sharp tone instantly silenced Harry. "Sorry." He peered more closely at Ron. "Sure you’re okay?"

"Of course." Ron’s voice was crisp and professional. "Let’s get on with this, shall we?"

"By all means." Harry opened the door and followed Ron inside.

Ron's interview with Gabrielle did not produce anything new and after forty minutes of talking, he and Harry left the sisters alone in Gabrielle's room. Fleur looked more than happy to see them leave, and had her wand poised to close the door almost before they were through it.

"What do you think?" asked Harry, once they were ensconced in his makeshift office downstairs.

"Everything she says is very incriminating, but unless she can actually remember being kidnapped and can identify Malfoy without a doubt as the one who was responsible, I'm not sure how credible she'd be. And based on what you've told me, it's going to be quite some time before her memory is one-hundred percent - if it ever is." Ron looked to Harry for confirmation.

Harry nodded. "We still don't know how Malfoy knew about her divination abilities. Her mother has told us the family knew about her talents from a young age. In addition to the usual signs of magic she was making predictions with astonishing accuracy before she was ten years old. But Madame Delacour says their family has absolutely no connections to the Malfoys or any of their circle."

"Do you know how he got hold of her?"

"Not exactly. Madame Delacour and Fleur said they were about to take the Hogwarts Express up to the school for Fleur's talk. From the sounds of it Gabrielle was with them one moment and the next she was gone." Harry shook his head. "The only person who can really tell us what happened is Gabrielle. Or Lucius Malfoy, I guess. But he's not likely to admit to anything."

"No, he's not," Ron agreed. "And he's still under immunity from the Ministry. I can't do much unless there's clear proof he's violated the terms of the agreement. Although," he added, looking pleased at the prospect, "I could have him monitored more closely, ask around to see if he’s been following all the rules."

"Let me know if you hear anything," said Harry, "there's always the er, less official means of surveillance." His thoughts turned to Malcolm Baddock. If there was anyone who'd want to help bring down the Malfoys, he seemed the likeliest candidate.

Harry was taking Ron to the Auror who would escort him from the property when Ron said, "I've left my quill upstairs. Be right back," and dashed off.

Harry waved the Auror away and leaned against the wall, wondering how accidental Ron's forgotten quill was. He frowned, feeling that lately Ron seemed to be taking Hermione for granted - working late, staying out even later at various Diagon Alley pubs, and now flirting unashamedly with the Delacour sisters.

"Harry!" Sirius appeared round a corner and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Even though you're practically living in my house I've hardly seen you."

A smile replaced the frown on Harry's face. "And whose fault is that? I saw you with Gabrielle's mother earlier today," he added. "Sure you're ready to leap into the dating world with a woman who's part Veela?"

"Would you expect anything less?" Sirius grinned. "You know me - I like a challenge." He glanced at the ceiling overhead. "And it appears Ron does, too. Saw him talking to Fleur just now."

"He said he'd left his quill," Harry said, the stormy look returning to his face.

"Don't worry," assured Sirius, "this is Fleur we're talking about. Do you really think Ron's going to get anywhere with her?"

Harry had to admit this seemed unlikely and relaxed a bit, although he still could not refrain from checking his watch obsessively and wondering what was taking so long.

Upstairs, Ron was indeed chatting with Fleur, one hand against the wall and looking his most suave, completely undeterred by Fleur's glowering looks.

"I believe zis is your quill," she said, holding it out to him.

"Thank you," Ron slipped it into his pocket. "How's your sister doing?"

"She is exhausted." Fleur's blue eyes flashed at Ron in a forbidding way. "If you 'ave a message for her please give it to me. She cannot see any more visitors today."

Ron stopped leaning and stood up straight. "I'm not after your little sister, Fleur," he said, dropping the provocative tone he'd been using earlier. "As you yourself said, my relationship to her is strictly professional. I'm only trying to help her - and you, really - by gathering all the evidence we have against Malfoy."

Fleur appeared slightly mollified by his words. "I am glad to 'ear it," she announced stiffly. "But you must understand why we are so protective of her, after all she 'as suffered."

"Of course. Besides," he added, a playful look returning, "she's far too young for me. You, on the other hand -"

Fleur took a step closer, invading Ron's personal space but not at all in the way he might have hoped for. "You are very lucky I am not a pure-blooded Veela. Do you know what I would do to you right now if I were?" she hissed menacingly, jabbing one long nail at his chest.

At this moment Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, having grown tired of waiting. He took in the scene with one glance, dragged Ron away with a sigh, and left Fleur to toss her hair and glare after them.

Ron remained silent until they reached the foyer downstairs. Looking over at Harry, he saw the lingering disapproval in his eyes and asked, "What, a man can't have a look now and then?"

"Oh, I suppose. But you do know that a look is all you're going to get with Fleur?"

Ron smiled as the assistant Auror joined them and they prepared to leave. "Don't be so sure," he joked, laughing at the renewed outrage on his friend's face. "Lighten up, Harry - you just need to get out more yourself. Would it make you feel better if I told you Hermione does some looking herself?"

Harry wanted to ask just what Ron meant by that last remark but the other Auror indicated Ron was already behind schedule and took him away, leaving Harry no chance to respond. Maybe Ron was right - maybe he did need to get out more.

* * * * *

The weeks after Seamus left were among the hardest Ginny had endured since leaving school. Her Auror training had been draining, both emotionally and physically, but this kind of loss and emotional turmoil was different. She had been relieved to spend most of the time immediately after his departure in seclusion at Sirius' home, keeping an eye on Gabrielle and working with Harry to gather all the memories Gabrielle retrieved through therapy. But as Gabrielle's memory improved, therapy gave way to magical training and Ginny found herself back in the office at Diagon Alley and back at her own empty flat, all too aware of Seamus' absence.

Happy or not, however, Ginny's days passed quickly and she was surprised one day when Harry came smiling into her office to inform her she had successfully completed her probationary period.

"Let's go out and celebrate, "he suggested. "It’ll be fun. Besides, Seamus told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you got out."

"He did?" Ginny forced herself not to look at Harry and kept staring at the piece of parchment in front of her.

"Yeah." Harry frowned at her. "He does care about you. Don’t you think there’s any chance –"

Now Ginny looked up. "No," she said flatly. "If he comes back and things work out - well, we’ll just have to wait and see if that happens."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Well…where do you want to go?"

Ginny put down her quill and began rolling up the parchment. "Someplace with loud music and strong drinks," she quipped, still feeling out of sorts at the mere mention of Seamus.

"Hmm. You don’t know what you’re in for." Harry bounced his eyebrows up and down at her and smiled.

"Taking me to your local, are you?" When Ginny had made the request she’d hardly expected Harry Potter to be familiar with any happening night spots.

"No, you want loud music, you’ll get it. Magical or Muggle?" he asked.

"Muggle." Ginny answered without hesitation. She knew how much Harry disliked public attention and any time he went out in the magical world with the opposite sex, tabloids followed.

"Okay. I’ll stop by around eight and we can have dinner first, okay?"

"Fine." Ginny stood up and shrugged on her cloak. "See you then."

* * * * *

Ginny’s first surprise of the evening was Harry’s choice of restaurant. Usually they just went to someplace casual and quick, but tonight he took her to a restaurant which was very new, very smart, and for which it was notoriously difficult to get reservations.

"Harry," gasped Ginny as they were seated. "How in the world did you get a table here?"

Harry smiled. "You'd be surprised what slipping a few choice bank notes to the maitre d’ gets you."

"You shouldn’t have!" Ginny didn’t know whether to be pleased or outraged. It had been a long time since anyone had done something special for her, not since Seamus. But she didn’t want to think about him.

"Worth it too, seeing you speechless," he joked and handed her the wine list. "What would you like?"

Following dinner, Harry kept his word and took Ginny to a noisy dance club where he bought her an extremely dry martini. She took a sip and tried not to cough. Harry was watching her closely and just smiled as she swallowed the stiff drink.

"Want to dance?" he asked after Ginny had nibbled on the speared olive.

"Sure." She set her drink on the small table and stood up. The evening was proving to be most unexpected. First the fancy dinner and now Harry Potter wanted to dance? Still, she’d had the better part of not only a split of champagne but also a bottle of Bordeaux, plus half a martini – so she wasn’t in the mood to question anything.

Much to Ginny’s surprise, Harry proved a quite capable dancer. Perhaps her judgement wasn’t as sharp as usual, but based on her memories of him at Hogwarts dances, Harry had definitely improved. She wondered if he'd discovered a dancing charm, but decided that if such a spell existed, she would certainly have known about it and applied it to several previous boyfriends.

Ginny loved dancing, and realised she hadn’t gone out in months, not since Seamus had left. She smiled, recalling how he could match her every outrageous move on the dance floor. Wow, she thought, I’m actually smiling at a memory of Seamus. That was progress. Maybe she should drink fine wines more often.

She smiled at Harry, who was dancing very close to her. She still couldn’t get over his taking her to a place like this, where everyone was so packed on the floor you could feel your neighbour’s sweat as you danced. He grinned back and pulled her forward, then kept his hands on her waist as they continued to dance.

Once they left the club, Harry insisted on seeing her up to her flat and Ginny didn’t really mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun and wasn’t eager for the night to end. They sat companionably on her loveseat, enjoying the view of the roof tops and city lights.

"You know what I like about you?" she mused, leaning casually against his shoulder. "We can just be silent for a long time and it's okay. There aren’t many people like that."

"Yeah, I know." Harry shifted position slightly so that he was looking at her more directly.

Ginny smiled at him. "Thanks for tonight. It’s been ages since I had that much fun."

"Not since – Seamus?"

"Yeah." Ginny dropped her head, her long, lush hair falling forward as she did so. She sighed and flicked it back.

"There’s really nothing there between you two anymore?"

Ginny shook her head. "No."

Harry didn’t say anything, just looked at her and in that instant Ginny realised he was going to kiss her. Her heart gave a great lurch and as he moved towards her, she automatically reached out and removed his glasses. Still holding his glasses in one hand, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and kissed him back. The only other time she’d kissed Harry had been what felt like a lifetime ago, when they were kids at school. And that had only been a requisite good-night, thanks-for-the-dance kind of kiss. Not like this. This was a serious, for-real kiss that left her a trifle breathless.

He released her after a moment and they blinked at each other. Ginny carefully set Harry’s glasses down on the coffee table and tucked her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture. Harry continued to eye her, a little questioningly now.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked curiously, still startled by the intensity of the kiss.

"I guess I've just been wanting to," Harry muttered. "Uh, sorry," he ventured when she remained silent. His face was faintly embarrassed, but mostly amorous.

"Don't be." Ginny smiled, leaned forward and pulled his face to hers. It almost seemed she’d forgotten how good it felt to be this close to someone. She kept leaning further, pushing him back against the arm of the sofa. Harry didn’t protest, just ran his hands up under the back of her blouse and undid her bra so smoothly she’d have sworn he had used magic. Ginny sat back, grinned, then pulled her bra out through her sleeve.

"How do girls do that?" asked Harry.

"That’s proprietary information, I'm afraid. Come on." Ginny stood up and pulled Harry to his feet and towards her bedroom.

"Are you sure you’re okay with this?" he asked.

"Yeah." Ginny turned and walked away. This was what she’d been waiting years for, right? Of course she was okay with it.

She ought to stop being surprised, Ginny reminded herself, as Harry proved even better at kissing than he had at dancing. And his dancing had been quite impressive. She realised she kept thinking of him as she had when they were at Hogwarts, as if he were still the teenage boy she'd once had a crush on, and it was a continual shock to encounter him as an adult - at least in this kind of situation.

"Just a minute," she whispered, and opened her bedside table. Drawing out a stoppered amber bottle, she measured out a small amount of liquid and swallowed some, then handed it to Harry. "Preventative potion," she smiled. "Works best if both partners consume it."

Harry swallowed the potion and sent the bottle back to the table, his eyes never leaving Ginny. Feeling his arms around her again, passion and affection welled up in Ginny and without further hesitation, she decided to see if this had been worth the wait.

* * * * *

"Good morning," murmured Harry, reaching out an arm and draping it across Ginny’s back.

She shifted at his touch. It felt so strange, being in the same bed with him now it was light. Last night seemed almost like a dream. A long, alcohol-soaked dream. Squinting against the bright morning sunshine, Ginny decided that whatever the time, it was too early to be awake.

This wasn't the first time Ginny had awakened to a hangover and regret, but she'd never imagined she'd have those feelings about Harry. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed herself thoroughly the night before. But in the daylight, realities about running foul of office romance policies came to mind, not to mention affection, rather than passion, seemed to be winning out in Ginny's emotions this morning.

Still, Ginny decided, maybe Harry wasn't after anything serious either. Giving up on trying to sleep anymore, she slid out of bed and said, "Come on, get dressed. You’re taking me out to breakfast."

"I am?"

She tossed him his clothes. "Yeah. And I’m hungry."

Harry pulled on his boxers and staggered towards the mirror. "My, my," said the mirror, causing Harry to jump in alarm. "This one’s a keeper."

Ginny growled as Harry, recovering from his shock, smiled at her. "This way," she muttered, pushing him out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom, which had a mirror with less impulse for commentary.

* * * * *

A few days after Harry took Ginny out to dinner, Hermione owled and offered to take her to lunch to celebrate as well. Sitting in the café, Hermione watched as Ginny picked all the gelatin topping off her pudding before eating the cake. "You seem happier these days – any particular reason why?" she asked with a smile.

Ginny looked up from her excavation work. "I’m just tired of being sad, I guess. It’s almost spring, why shouldn’t I be happy?"

Hermione cocked one eyebrow at Ginny. "No reason. But you didn’t answer my question."

Ginny twisted her mouth. Part of her wanted to talk to Hermione about her own confused feelings, but she also knew Hermione could be a little touchy when it came to Harry. "Do I have to have a particular reason?" she countered.

"I guess not." Ginny thought she was off the hook until Hermione added, "But Harry certainly does."

Fighting back a blush, Ginny took another bite and tried to look unconcerned when she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Ginny. Harry told me all about you two."

"He what?" Ginny’s expression was anything but happy now. "When – why did he tell you?" she sputtered.

"Um, the other day over lunch, I guess. Why are you so upset?"

"Because we agreed not to tell anyone, that’s why. Because we – well, I – could get into a lot of trouble at work. Nobody's going to reprimand the famous Harry Potter for starting a relationship with a co-worker but I have to be a bit more careful." Ginny tossed down her fork and shook back her hair. "I can’t believe him."

"Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by bringing it up. I just thought you two were, well, happy now…" Hermione trailed off, aghast at Ginny’s stormy face. "I mean, you’ve been in love with him for ages, haven’t you?"

Ginny rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead, then looked straight at Hermione. "No. I’ve been in love with Seamus." Ginny stood and picked up her bag. "He’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with," she said, and dashed out of the shop.

Hermione looked dazedly after her, then grabbed her own things and ran after her friend. Ginny hadn’t gone far, and was sitting on a park bench trying, unsuccessfully, not to cry.

"I’m sorry," said Hermione, sitting down next to her. "But I thought you were over Seamus. And frankly, so does Harry."

"I know."

"Ginny…what exactly is going on between you and Harry?"

Ginny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking. "I don’t know. We have a good time together, it’s everything I used to dream about and now that I have it I just…"

"Just what?" Hermione smoothed back Ginny’s hair and placed a comforting arm around her.

"I don’t know if I want it," Ginny admitted in a low voice. "I mean, I should – what witch wouldn’t? Especially me."

"Are you still in love with Seamus?"

"What does it matter? He’s made his choice." Ginny didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"It matters to Harry," Hermione reminded.

Ginny began to feel annoyed. "Well, what did he expect?" she cried. "He’s got to know he’s the Rebound Guy. I mean, honestly – does he think I’ve just been pining away for him ever since I was eleven, and now he’s made all my dreams come true?"

"So that’s all it is to you, a rebound thing?" Hermione looked at her levelly.

Ginny stared back, then turned and shook her head, her hair falling into her face again. "I don’t know," she finally said. "I don’t see why it has to be anything at this point. We have fun, we have a good time together – I’m really not anxious to jump right into another serious relationship. I don’t see why we can’t just enjoy things as they come."

Hermione actually looked amused. "You almost sound like a man."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ginny in exasperation. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back, then turned her head to look at Hermione. "Is Harry upset? Did he say something to you?"

"No, he’s not upset. He’s pretty happy. But Ginny," said Hermione, looking more serious, "you ought to tell him if you’re still in love with Seamus. It’s not fair to Harry."

Ginny scowled. "Right. It’s perfectly fine for everyone to assume I’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years and he can just swoop down and have me now he’s finally ready. But if I’m not certain, suddenly that’s not fair to him?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Actually, I was going to say you’re not being fair to yourself, either."

"Whatever." Ginny sighed heavily. "You're lucky to have Ron. Although, if you two don't hurry up and have a proper ceremony you're going to be common-law married before you know it. And Mum will definitely be displeased if she's deprived of a wedding."

"Don't hold your breath," Hermione muttered, before returning the focus to Ginny. "When's the last time you heard from Seamus?"

Ginny's voice was muffled, as she was now resting her head on her knees. "Over a month ago. He kept sending me owls but I never wrote back."

"Why not?"

Shifting position, Ginny brought her head up and when she looked at Hermione, her eyes were angry. "There was no point. He's made his choice. Better to make a clean break of it."

"But he's trying to stay in touch. I've never known him write to anyone, Gin. You must be the only person he's ever made this kind of effort for," Hermione said.

"Thanks," snorted Ginny. "Like I need reminders of what a run-around he can be."

Losing patience, Hermione snapped, "That's not what I meant and you know it. You'd better figure out what you want - it's not fair to anyone if you keep on like this."

"If I want to have a one-night stand with Harry Potter, that's my business." Ginny swung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. "You're not dating him anymore so what's it matter to you?"

Hermione flushed and frowned up at Ginny. "I'm still his friend. Harry hasn't dated anyone seriously in a long time. I just want to see him happy."

"Yeah." Ginny studied Hermione. "He hasn't dated anyone seriously since you."

Now Hermione was on her feet. "Maybe to you it was just a one-night stand but I think you know Harry well enough to know he doesn't work that way. He trusts you, Ginny, and if you don't have feelings for him you ought to tell him."

The two parted on rather frosty terms, Hermione returning to the Runic Institute. Ron had been putting in longer hours ever since the night Harry had summoned him down to his offices, when he’d first found Gabrielle. Hermione didn’t really mind and found herself working late as well, even when she didn’t need to.

She and Ron had circled around the issues raised on the evening of their fight, but hadn't really resolved anything. Ron had returned home contrite - Hermione wondered if Harry had advised him to talk with her - and explained, "I've shared things all my life, first with my brothers, then with Harry. But I can't share you."

Hermione supposed she should feel happier about Ron making such a statement, but at the time she'd merely said, "Nobody's asking you to," and that had been that.

Besides, Hermione told herself, it was a pointless discussion, not worth continuing. She didn’t think of Harry as anything but a friend, and obviously he didn’t harbour any romantic feelings for her anymore.

She sighed and tried to concentrate on the scrolls before her. Harry had asked her to re-examine the imprint of the runes found on Gabrielle’s talisman, see if she could be more specific in her translation. He was convinced Dumbledore had had some kind of information about specific dangers facing Gabrielle and had addressed these in the protection spell created for her. Hermione wasn’t so sure. After all, Malfoy and his henchmen had still found her, hadn’t they? All the talisman seemed to be able to do was keep her physically safe from them.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Harry's theory wasn't far off. Hermione didn't know it, but Harry's visit to Malcolm Baddock had proved surprisingly helpful.

"You again," said Malcolm on answering his door and finding Harry. "Come in."

Harry carefully shared select pieces of information with Malcolm, watching intently as each bit of news was dropped, gauging Baddock's reaction. "I want to know how Malfoy knew this girl was a Seer and how he got her," he finally said.

Malcolm's typical sneer was absent that evening, and his sarcasm seemed only an imitation of his usual bitterness. Clearly, something about this incident had troubled memories for him, too. "Well, for starters Seers are almost always women. And if you'd done a bit of genealogy research you would have noticed the girl's great-great grandmother was a Seer, too. Of course, you being the egalitarian Gryffindor, I'm sure you can't be bothered learning anything about magical lineage."

"That’s why we keep Slytherins like you around, to do that kind of work."

Malcolm smirked. "But why, when Gryffindors will always accept much lower wages. Still, it’s your money." He shrugged and continued. "Monsieur Delacour came from ancient pureblood families on both sides. It's all there, in Burke's Purebloods. The Malfoys would have been aware of Gabrielle's background, I'm sure."

Harry frowned. "But the Delacours are French."

Rolling his eyes, Malcolm stood up and retrieved a book from his shelf. Flipping it open, he showed Harry an entry. "Monsieur Delacour's own mother was from a long line of English wizards. See? Here they are."

Harry glanced at the page, not really caring what it said. "Fine. But how'd they know Gabrielle was the one? There's another daughter, too."

"If you have one or two Seers a generation, you're lucky. As I said, I'm sure they knew the likely sources, and kept tabs on the Delacours. Now as to how he nabbed her - that I don't know. My parents might, but since they've lost their minds in Azkaban I'm afraid they won't be much help." Malcolm's bitterness appeared to have come back full force as he uttered this last line.

Something the mediwitch had told him came back to Harry and he asked, "Do you think there's any chance the Delacours - or Gabrielle herself - were somehow involved with Malfoy or the Death Eaters?"

"Absolutely not. The Delacours and Malfoys loathed each other. If you spent any time in proper wizarding circles you’d know this," Malcolm noted with disdain.

Harry didn't respond immediately. A plan was hatching in his mind, but he knew it would require calling in a number of favours, and he wasn't at all convinced it would pay off. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and said, "What if your parents weren't in Azkaban? Away from the influence of the Dementors, they might regain themselves and be able to tell us what happened. What do you think?"

Malcolm first appeared startled, then a slow smile eased across his features. Oddly, Malcolm Baddock smiling wasn't a pleasant sight, Harry noted. "Permanently freed?"

"No. They'd still be prisoners, just not at Azkaban."

"I'd have visiting privileges with them?"

"Of course."

Malcolm's smile faded. "Can you really make this happen, Potter, or are you just stringing me along?"

Harry stood up. "I can't promise anything, but if your parents can help me take down Lucius Malfoy, I'll do everything I can to reduce their punishment." He nodded at Malcolm and swept out the door.

* * * * *

Although it was dark by the time Hermione left work that evening, she had in fact departed earlier than usual upon remembering Crookshanks needed more food. Ron never kept track of those kinds of things. Hurrying down the pavements, Hermione tried to think where she would find a store open to get more cat food.

"Hey, Granger."

She stopped walking and froze in place. The voice was familiar, yet she hadn’t heard it in years. Looking over, her stomach constricting, Hermione’s suspicions were confirmed. Draco Malfoy leaned against the door of a gleaming sports car parked at the side of the street, and he was talking to her.

"Get in."

A small glint of silver shone against the darkness, attracting Hermione’s attention. Looking more closely, she realised it was the tip of a wand, and it was pointed straight at her.