Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter 21: His Mother's Memories

"So kind of you to decide to join us today, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore said, turning from the blackboard to see Draco sneak into the classroom ten minutes late.

"Wouldn't want to deprive you of the pleasure of my presence, sir," Draco replied with snide distraction. It was a reflex response- his mind was on the photograph currently tucked between his schoolbooks. In spite of the ugly gold and crimson Gryffindor colors, Ginny cut a mean figure in her Quidditch robes; Draco was looking forward to playing her next week. It was down to just Slytherin and Gryffindor for the cup- Ravenclaw's brutal defeat last Saturday had ensured that they were no longer in the runnings.

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, we are quite pleased to have you here," Dumbledore said, eyebrow quirked with amusement. "I know the rest of the class would be thrilled to hear your opinion on the ethical use of magic in a combat setting." Scattered snickers echoed from the Gryffindors, particularly Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Clearly they thought Draco had no sense of ethics at all.

But Draco actually had done his homework, and he wasn't stupid; he knew precisely what Dumbledore wanted to hear. "Self-defense," he said smoothly. "Magic should only be used aggressively as a preventative measure."

"Good," Dumbledore replied, a small smirk causing his long beard to twitch. "An example of this sort of situation- Mr. Weasley."

Ron jumped, startled- he'd been mouthing something, probably insults about Draco, to Granger. "Er, ah, maybe when someone's life is endangered?" he stammered.

"Precisely." Dumbledore turned to write on the blackboard, and Draco was just about to tune the class out when Granger raised her hand, waving it urgently.

"Professor?" she queried self-importantly. "Are there ever any extenuating circumstances?"

"Such as?" Dumbledore returned, clearly wanting Hermione to qualify her question on her own.

"Well-" Hermione hesitated, glancing over at Potter, before continuing. "Suppose you encounter someone of great evil; perhaps someone you've encountered before. With the foreknowledge of this person's ill intentions, would it be permissible to engage in first-strike tactics?"

"An interesting question. Does anyone have any possible answers for Miss Granger?"

Draco snorted to himself. Dumbledore called this teaching? Seemed more like half-arsed refereeing.

Tentatively, Potter raised his hand. "I think it would be alright. The most important thing is to save lives."

Just to be contrary, Draco raised his hand, too. "Professor, I disagree," he said, refusing to address Harry directly. "It seems to me that any first-strike measure would ultimately have the taint of revenge to it; would you be attacking the supposed evil because of his intent, or as payback for acts he'd performed earlier?"

"Also an interesting point, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said fairly. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, do either of you have a response?"

"Perhaps," Harry began, a dangerous darkness coloring his voice, "it would depend on the morals of the attacker. Perhaps Malfoy would attack someone for revenge. But I wouldn't."

Draco let out a rude snort. "You've got to be joking, Potter. You're telling me that if you were face to face with You-Know-Who again, you wouldn't Cruciatus him into the next century for what he allegedly did to your parents?"

Potter's face had turned white as a sheet, and Dumbledore frowned sternly. "No personal attacks, Mr. Malfoy. Let's keep this discussion theoretical."

"Wasn't my question theoretical already, Professor?" Draco asked sweetly. "I asked Potter a question that began with 'if.' I mean, it's been made perfectly clear to us from Ministry reports and articles in the Prophet that Potter took care of ol' He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named last year. So what have any of us got to worry about?"

Weasley's face was so purple he looked like he was about to volcanically explode. "Why don't you just shut your trap, Malfoy, before someone shuts it for you?" he snarled.

Draco smirked, then shrugged. "It was just a question, Weasley." He flicked his eyes over to Harry. "If you're too frightened to answer, you don't have to, but I do wish you'd put a leash on your lapdog."

"Silence!" Dumbledore boomed over the din, his normally merry face expressionless. "I will not tolerate such baiting. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, both of you will stop now. Let's move on to the next ethical exercise-"

"No, Professor," Harry interrupted. "I'd like to answer Malfoy's question, if you don't mind."

One eyebrow arched over the rim of Dumbledore's wireless half-moon glasses. "Certainly, Mr. Potter, as you wish."

Harry turned to face Draco directly, his lips white with undisguised fury. "To be honest with you, Malfoy, I would enjoy nothing more than to watch Voldemort-" assorted gasps echoed from around the room, "-and every last person who ever aided him suffer to their last breath." Harry's breath was coming in short bursts, and his pasty cheeks had turned a sickly red. "Professor," he asked shakily, "might I be excused?"

Dumbledore looked worried, but he nodded. "Why don't you see Madam Pomfrey for a Cheering Charm?" he suggested, flicking his eyes to his watch. "In fact, you're all dismissed. We'll do the next exercise on Wednesday."

Potter, Granger and Weasley practically bolted from the classroom, but Draco was closer to the door; quickly, he inserted himself in front of them, so that Granger smacked almost directly into him in her rush to leave. Just as he'd planned, his books went flying from his hands, but the way they spilled all over the floor was almost too perfect- Ginny's picture, along with the racy note she'd written, fluttered momentarily in the air before settling gently at Potter's feet.

"So it's true, then, isn't it, Granger- being a bookworm is hard on the eyes, since you can't seem to see where you're going." Gracefully, Draco knelt to pick up Ginny's photo; the miniature Ginny winked and let her robes slip just a bit higher up her leg. He indicated the picture. "This, on the other hand, is quite easy on the eyes."

Grinning at the stunned and angry looks on the Trio's faces (and also at the defiant scowl on photo-Ginny's), Draco sauntered out of the classroom. It had been quite a good day so far.

***

"Harry, you can't let him get to you," Hermione said quickly, noting the way Harry was burning a metaphorical hole in the departing Draco's back.

"He hasn't gotten to me," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Look, if you two don't mind, I have something I need to do. Go on ahead of me."

"But, Harry, you don't want to be late for Care of Magical Creatures-"

Harry shot Hermione a nasty look, and she closed her mouth with an audible 'snap.'

"Easy, mate," Ron said. "We'll see you when you get there, alright?" Taking Hermione gently by the elbow, he led her down the hallway toward the steps.

As soon as Ron and Hermione had disappeared down the stairs, Harry headed for the Arithmancy classroom, where he knew Georgine would just be finishing.

"Harry, what a surprise-" she began.

"I have to talk to you," he said urgently. "Do you have the time? Can you miss your next class?"

Georgine nodded, frowning. "Harry, what's the matter?"

"I'll tell you when we get to the library."

As soon as they were ensconced in the relative privacy of one of the study rooms, Harry poured out the entire story to Georgine, telling her all about the frustrations Malfoy had brought up, and his private concern that maybe he hadn't been successful last year, and Voldemort really had come back.

"And what do I do if he is back again, Georgine?" he asked plaintively. "I don't- I don't know if I could go through all that again."

"You can if you've got people to help you," Georgine said firmly. "Friends like Ron and Hermione... and me," she added, voice tentative. "If you want my help, that is."

"I wouldn't have asked you here if I didn't," Harry said. "But what do I do, if I have to face him again? Last time I had a prophecy guiding me, and Dumbledore's help, and the clues from my scar, but this time there's just- nothing. I need a device, Georgine, or a spell."

Georgine's frown deepened thoughtfully. "I may be able to help you, Harry," she said slowly. "But-"

"Yes?" he prodded.

"It may not be an entirely, er, good spell," she said, prevaricating.

Harry's eyes flashed with a peculiar, determined fire. "If it gets rid of Voldemort, it's a good spell."

Georgine nodded. "I'll get back to you about this as soon as I can."

***

"I can't believe Harry didn't come to class," Hermione fretted as she and Ron walked back up the hill to the castle. "He's going to fall behind, and Charlie looked so disappointed. Ron, should we go looking for him? Maybe he needs to talk."

"Alright," Ron said, agreeable because he was only half-listening. It was a beautiful day outside, and in his mind he was running the Quidditch Chasers through their practice paces. He couldn't wait to snatch the cup from right underneath the Slytherins' noses on Saturday.

Hermione continued to natter as they made their way into the entrance hall, taking the stairs and corridors that would lead them to Gryffindor Tower. "Maybe he's in your dormitory?" she suggested. "I think we should look there first."

"Great," Ron said. "Look, would you go check? I think I had a bit too much pumpkin juice at lunch."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at this, but took his books so he could duck off to the toilets while she slogged up the stone steps to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. She knocked politely before opening the door, just to make sure that no one was in a state of undress.

"Come in," said a voice she recognized as Dean's. "Oh, hello, Hermione," he added when she came in the door. "Looking for Ron?"

"No, Harry, actually. Ron'll be up shortly." She indicated her boyfriend's books. "Where does he usually keep these?"

"In his trunk, I think," Dean replied. "In the corner, there."

Hermione knelt in front of the battered trunk neatly labeled "R.W." It was clear that the "R" used to be a "P" for "Percy," and that someone had later added the last leg of the "R." She smiled. She knew Ron hated being the eternal recipient of hand-me-downs, but one had to give Molly Weasley credit for her resourcefulness. Besides, Hermione thought it was rather endearing. Ron might have many hand-me-down things, she liked to tell him, but she felt that he himself was first-quality.

Opening the trunk, Hermione's smile widened at the sight of Ron's usual disarray. Clean clothes warred with dirty, and spellbooks, quills, and potions ingredients melded into a hodgepodge pile. She was about to add his Monster Book of Monsters to the stack when she realized that something didn't seem quite right-

Potions ingredients?

All of Snape's students kept their ingredients in the storage closet down in his classroom; there were far too many things to lug to and from class each session. Glancing up to make certain Dean wasn't watching her- good, he'd gone back to his book- Hermione picked up the two vials of ingredients. "Vinegared black dragon blood," read one; the other was labeled "Essence of swamp orchid." Two very rare, and very expensive, ingredients.

Hermione could hear Professor Snape's sneering voice in her mind. "'Must have misplaced them,' Granger? One does not simply 'misplace' Swamp Orchid Essence. You'd have been better off misplacing your own fool head- it's certainly worth less." He'd slurred the last two words together, so that "worth less" had become "worthless."

Ingredients that had been checked out from the Potions Master in her name; ingredients only a few people would have had access to. Harry, Ron, Ginny, the other Gryffindor girls in her year. Numbly, Hermione turned the vials, already knowing what she'd see on the other side of the labels-

Her own self-penned, unfailingly neat initials. H.J.G.

Hermione felt sick. She could think of only two spells that required both of these very rare ingredients. The first was a simple but illegal love philter- nothing Ron needed, since Hermione knew beyond a doubt that she'd loved him long before her spell ingredients had disappeared. No, he must have used them for a Prosperity Potion. As she thought quickly about it, it made so much sense. Ron becoming top Quidditch Chaser, his marks improving, his likely candidacy for next year's Head Boy-

"Afternoon, Dean." Ron's voice seemed to boom from the entrance to the dormitory. "Looking forward to the game this Saturday?"

"Very ready to pulverize some Slytherins, mate."

"Hermione?" Ron queried. "What are you doing?"

Slowly, Hermione stood, the vials held before her. "Care to explain these?"

***

"Bronwen, I'd love to stay and gossip with you a bit more," Ginny said, checking her watch, "but I've got Quidditch practice in twenty minutes, and if I'm not dressed and on the pitch, well, Katie will kill me. We plan on beating you this Saturday, you know."

Bronwen grinned evilly. "Then perhaps I should distract you with a few more juicy tidbits. Without a Keeper, it'd be even easier to score goals."

"It's the only way you'd score any goals," Ginny joked.

"Hey!" Bronwen exclaimed in mock indignation, punching Ginny on the arm. "Not nice!" She pretended to pout for a moment, but then she brightened. "I do have just one more thing. I think it will really amuse you."

"Alright, " Ginny said, eyes again flicking impatiently to her watch. "But hurry."

"I finally found out who Blaise has been secretly mooning over," Bronwen said triumphantly. "Squeezed it out of her last night when she was doing my nails." Quickly, Bronwen flashed her perfect French manicure in front of Ginny's face. "You will never guess who it is!"

"Then you'll have to tell me," Ginny said, fidgeting. "Seriously, Bron, I'm in a rush."

"It's Ron."

"Where?" Ginny asked, head turning quickly in both directions. "He's worse than Katie, if I'm late he'll blame Draco and-"

Bronwen sighed. "Ginny, you're not listening to me. Ron. Blaise fancies Ron."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "Ron Weasley. My brother. Someone like your sister fancies my clumsy, loud yokel of a brother?"

"You don't give him enough credit, Gin," Bronwen said in a serious tone. Then she cracked a smile. "Oh, really, isn't it hilarious?"

Ginny giggled. "Too bad he has Hermione; it would be too cute if my brother and your sister were a couple." She stood. "We'll talk more later. In the meantime, would you tell Fiona I want to speak with her?"

Bronwen nodded. "Of course. What about? She'll probably want to know."

"I think she'll figure it out," Ginny evaded, not wanting to tell Bronwen that she and Fiona had fought. "I'll see you at dinner."

***

Just as Ginny was pushing open the front doors of the castle, she heard footsteps pounding behind her. "Ginny," panted Dean Thomas as he sprinted to catch up. "Are you off to practice? I'll walk with you."

Ginny was about to ask him how he was doing, but Dean started talking first. "You won't believe what just happened," he told her breathlessly.

"What?" Ginny asked, instantly curious. Dean wasn't the sort to gossip, but when he did know something, it was always interesting.

"Your brother and Hermione just broke up."

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks. "Pardon?" She felt like she'd been hearing things all day- first Blaise and Ron, and now this.

"I know, I can't believe it either. But I was right there when it happened, Ginny."

"Tell me everything," Ginny demanded.

"Well, you remember those potions ingredients of Hermione's that went missing last year, and how angry Snape was?"

"Hard to forget," Ginny said wryly. Snape had vented his spleen on the Gryffindor classes even more than usual after that.

"Well, apparently Ron was the one who took them."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed. "No, Dean, that's not possible. Ron would never steal something, especially not from Hermione."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. "Ginny, I was there. Hermione came up to the dormitory to put Ron's books in his trunk, and she found her potions ingredients in his trunk. I saw them- they had her initials written on the labels."

"Impossible," Ginny whispered. Not Ron- he wouldn't ever- "Surely he had an explanation for it..."

"He admitted to taking them, but he wouldn't say why. Hermione was crying, and they were both yelling at each other; Ron said something about wishing she'd just trust him, and Hermione asked how could she trust him when he stole things from her, and then she told him she didn't think she could be his girlfriend right now, because she was too angry."

"Oh, no," Ginny murmured.

"And he told her he didn't think it would be a good idea for her to be his girlfriend at all, if she wouldn't trust him."

"He didn't!" Ginny had thought, until that moment, that maybe Ron and Hermione would be able to patch things up. They'd certainly fought and made up often enough in the past. But for Ron to say that to Hermione- "This is bad," Ginny said.

"Yeah, for us," Dean replied with a cheeky grin. "I have a feeling practice is going to be brutal. Katie said at breakfast that she wants to save her strength for Saturday, so guess who'll be running us through aerials? Ron."

Ginny nodded absently, but practice wasn't on her mind; she was too busy worrying about her brother. "Er, thanks for telling me, Dean," she said as they arrived at the entrance to the changing rooms. "See you on the pitch."

Changing quickly into her uniform, Ginny went out to where the team was gathered at the foot of the Gryffindor stands. It was just as Dean had said; Katie was in her normal clothes, and carrying a notepad full of moves and a pair of binoculars.

"I'll be watching you from the stands," the pretty captain barked, "while Ron takes you through your maneuvers. You all know by now what you're supposed to do- any questions before we begin?"

Ginny glanced over at her brother. His cheeks were flushed, and his jaw was set- she could tell he was clenching his teeth.

"Just one," piped up Mimi Wood. Everyone turned to look at the youngest member of the team in surprise. Mimi usually just came to practice, silently performed her Beater duties, and left; as a third year, she hadn't bonded much with the rest of the team.

"Go ahead," said Katie, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"I don't know many details," Mimi began, looking at each member of the team in turn, her gaze particularly hard when it rested on Harry, Ginny, and Ron, "and I know it's none of my business, and I know we've talked about this before. But please, just for the sake of the game and the Quidditch Cup, could we put aside our differences and play as a team?"

Katie nodded approvingly at Mimi. "I couldn't have put it better myself. Just for this week, please let your differences rest. After Saturday, I don't care if you rend each other limb from limb. But until then-"

"We'll be good, Katie," Ginny promised, looking over at Harry. He nodded curtly.

"Good," Katie replied briskly. She clapped her hands together. "Let's get started, then. Ron, take them up."

Before her brother could mount his broom and whiz off, Ginny hurried over to his side. "Can we talk after practice?" she asked.

"Dean told you already, did he?" Ron replied, mouth set in a thin line. "Alright. I have a study meeting after practice, but I'm free after dinner. I'll find you in the common room."

"It's a date," Ginny said, squeezing his arm. "And Ron-"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure things will be okay," she lied.

"Good thing one of us is," he said with a rueful smile before taking off into the air.

Sighing, Ginny stared after him until he became nothing more than a crimson and gold blur on the horizon. Then she reluctantly kicked off from the ground, concerns fading as the rigors of practice took over.

So absorbed in the crucial final practice was she that Ginny didn't even notice Katie had called a stop until she nearly flew into Colin. "Careful there," he said, reaching out to steady her.

"What's the problem?" she asked him.

"Don't know." He gestured down at the captain, who appeared to be arguing with another tiny figure far below. As Ginny swooped low for a closer look, the second person's hood was whipped off by the wind, revealing telltale silvery-gold hair. "Draco," she muttered, rolling into a dive. She pulled up short next to her boyfriend and Katie.

"Why are you here?" she asked. Surely Draco wouldn't spy on her team's maneuvers?

"I have been trying to find out the same thing," snapped the red-faced Katie. "Malfoy, you've no business-"

"I could explain, if you would let me get a word in edgewise," Draco hissed, white-lipped with anger. "I'm not here to spy on your bloody practice, I am here to talk to Ginny. Which I told you when I arrived, so if you'd taken even a moment to listen-"

Ginny felt a ball of ice start to form in the pit of her stomach. Underneath Draco's fury, she could detect a partially-hidden layer of anxiety. "Leave him be, Katie. Can I finish practice early?"

"I'm not pleased, Ginny," Katie said. "Saturday is the final match, and-"

"Well aware of that, thank you," Ginny replied shortly. "But may I go?"

"If it will get him off my pitch," Katie snapped, turning away.

Ignoring the stares from her team, particularly Ron and Harry, Ginny dismounted from her broom and followed Draco out through the stands. She stopped outside the doors to the Gryffindor changing room. "Is it truly urgent, or can I change?"

He frowned. "I'd prefer if-"

Ginny didn't need to hear more. "Never mind," she said. "Where can we go?"

"The Potions room," Draco said after a moment's thought. "We won't be overheard there."

When they were finally settled across from each other at a desk in Snape's classroom, Ginny spoke again. "Is it your mother?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes and no," Draco replied. "She- her condition's stable, Ginny. But she sent me something." Draco reached over and pulled out a bag- only then did Ginny even notice he had anything with him. From the bag he removed a box, one end of which bore a broken Malfoy seal. "Look inside," he commanded.

Filled with trepidation, Ginny nevertheless pulled the box towards her, lifting the flap with the broken seal. From inside the box she removed a large stone bowl; its surface was swirled with moving silver. "A Pensieve?" she asked. She'd never seen one in person, but she'd read about them in books, and of course she'd heard, secondhand from Ron, about Harry's experience in Dumbledore's office.

"My mother sent us her memories," Draco said, voice low and oddly pitched. "I think it's better if you just see them for yourself."

"But, Draco, these are your mother's private thoughts-"

Wordlessly, Draco pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

Draco darling,

Because there are some things you need to know that your father won't tell you. Though you don't have to if you don't wish to, I think you should share this with Ginny.

For the lifetime of deception, I apologize.

All my love to you,

-Mother

Post Script: I confess there's still more you need to know, but I dare not write it in a letter, and none of it is memories of mine. Come home soon as you can, and bring Ginny with you.

Ginny sought and held Draco's gaze. "Is this going to shock me?"

"Perhaps."

"Terrify me?"

"Possibly."

"Is it something I have to know?" She already knew the answer.

"Yes."

Ginny nodded, inhaling a deep breath. "Hold my hand while I'm in there?"

"Yes." He took her hand in his.

After the initial tugging sensation she'd heard described, Ginny found herself still standing in a Hogwarts classroom- but Charms, not Potions.

A pretty sandy-haired girl in Slytherin colors was to Ginny's left; she seemed to be practicing a difficult spell, because her teeth dug into her lower lip, and her brow was furrowed in concentration.

"You'll never get it right, will you?" taunted a languid voice. Ginny turned, and as she did, her heart skipped a beat, for there was her idol- but younger, far handsomer, his dark hair tousled, and his blue eyes mischievous instead of sad. Sirius Black. "How are you going to pass your N.E.W.T.s if you can't do a Freezing Charm?"

"Shove off, Sirius," the girl snapped. Her tone was haughty, privileged, identical to Sirius's. "Go play with your little Gryffindor friends and leave me alone."

"So high and mighty," Sirius replied. "I'd think you'd be a bit more grateful, since it was you who came to me for help, Lyra."

Ginny froze- surely she'd imagined that. This was the young Lyra Black? But these were Narcissa Malfoy's memories. Yet Lyra and Sirius were the only people in the room. Meaning-

Narcissa Malfoy and Lyra Black were one and the same.

Forcing her brain to slow down even though it wanted to race a mile a minute, Ginny turned back to the scene in front of her. Narcissa/Lyra was still practicing the spell. She was just about to utter the casting phrase when the door to the room opened and another Slytherin girl, this one raven-haired, stalked in.

"About time I found you, Lyra," she said irritably. "Hiram Nott said that you'd-" Her eyes slid over to where Sirius was lounging on a desk, and she stopped for a moment, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Sirius," she sneered. "Hoping to add another bad apple to the family tree?"

Sirius shrugged fluidly. "It does sometimes get lonely, Bellatrix. Even I can't handle being right all the time, all by myself."

"Then go be right with your little Gryffindor cronies," Bellatrix glowered, eyes flicking to the unknotted gold and scarlet tie around her cousin's neck. "Leave my sister to the Slytherins where she belongs."

Narcissa sighed, tucking her wand into her pocket. "He's just trying to help me study, Bella. How will I ever get into the Aurors if I can't pass my exams?"

Bellatrix's eyes darkened. "If things were different, there would be no need for Aurors." She grabbed her sister roughly by the arm. "Come. We're late for dinner."

~~~

The scene blurred, and Ginny felt a sensation of vertigo as the background shifted to a new memory. She was now in a dark office- four people were seated at a conference table: an older Lyra/Narcissa, garbed in formal Auror's gear; Albus Dumbledore; Sirius, also Auror-dressed; and Lyman Graemes, former Minister of Magic. Ginny recognized him from his picture in her History of Magic text.

"Are you certain you're willing to do this, Miss Black?" Minister Graemes asked, his gaze intense.

Narcissa shared a glance with Sirius, then nodded. "I am." She turned to Dumbledore. "I don't agree with your cause; you know that already. Muggles, even the magically talented, belong in the Muggle world." She took a deep breath. "But they don't deserve death, either. So I will help you. And I will accept every resource the Order has to offer."

"We pledge you our very best, Miss Black," Dumbledore said seriously.

"What's my role in all this?" Sirius interrupted.

Dumbledore and Graemes shared a glance; finally, Graemes spoke. "It will be your task to disgrace your cousin," he said. "It's imperative that your other cousin, Bellatrix, believe that her sister was removed from the Aurors. If she should be discovered among the Death Eaters, she needs an airtight excuse."

Dumbledore picked up the thread of Graemes's explanation. "Bellatrix would never believe Lyra had been forced out of the Aurors. Not unless you were the one to bring her down. She knows too well that you would only report Lyra on a wrongdoing if it were so great as to be unignorable. You're our only unimpeachable accuser, Sirius."

Sirius looked at Narcissa, who nodded at him. "You must, Sirius."

"Only if this is really what you want. Lyra, I just don't understand why this mission has to be yours-"

"Because other than you, I'm the only Auror who knows Bella personally. And unlike you, I can keep my temper," Narcissa said with forced levity.

Sirius grimaced. "Fine. Tell me what I have to do."

~~~

The world spun again, and Ginny found herself in another dark room that held another long table. This time, however, the table was only occupied by two; a pair that Ginny recognized as younger versions of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lyra Black's dark blonde locks and hazel eyes were gone; instead, she now wore the gold hair and azure eyes of Narcissa. Her cheekbones had sharpened, and her nose was more aquiline; she was still lovely, but cold.

Both Lucius and Narcissa had their heads bent over stacks of reports; both were reading avidly. Or at least, Narcissa was; after a few moments of observation, it was easy to see that Lucius was only pretending- his eyes often darted over to Narcissa.

Finally, Lucius reached over and rested a hand on her knee. It was clear from the way he did it that the two of them were familiar with each other, but not fully comfortable; more than friends, but not yet lovers. She hadn't let him do much more than kiss her. "Lyra," he said softly, voice pitched low.

"Yes?" Narcissa replied absently, eyes not straying from the parchment in front of her.

Suddenly Lucius's fingers clamped tightly on either side of her kneecap and squeezed, causing her visible pain. "As I thought," he hissed, digging his fingers in deep. He clapped an immobility spell on her before she could reach for her wand. "We shall see what the Dark Lord has to say about this."

~~~

A shift, to a time that could only have been a few weeks later; a tiny chapel, a coerced priest. "Man and wife," he spat out as Lucius's wand bit into his side.

Smirking, Lucius bent his head to kiss his bride- Narcissa leaned gracefully into it, but Ginny could see that she was digging the nails of her left hand into her palm so hard that she'd drawn blood.

"You're Narcissa Malfoy now," Lucius said to his new wife, his tone laced with malice. "Bound to me, bound to the Dark Lord, never again to be Lyra Black." His smile broadened as he stroked her jaw with his hand. "Such an ironic fate for a former Auror, isn't it? I confess," he continued, "that the idea would have never occurred to me, giving surety to your loyalty in this way. Such a beautiful irony, that one of our Lord's former enemies should now be tethered by marriage to his right hand."

Narcissa forced a smile- to Lucius, it must have seemed genuine. "A brilliant solution," she replied. "But Lucius darling, it's not as if I was coerced. The Dark Lord wanted proof that I was willing to relinquish my past as Lyra Black, that I truly have turned to his side; he has it. I am willing. I am yours."

"A pleasing prospect," Lucius murmured, bending to kiss her again...

~~~

A series of memories flashed past, offering Ginny mere glimpses. Clearly Narcissa had added them hastily, intending to give only a vague idea of events, rather than the whole picture.

Narcissa as she knelt before the Dark Lord to receive his blessing...

Narcissa speaking earnestly to Lucius, her words causing his eyes to glow with pleasure...

A nurse wrapping an infant in a costly silk robe, wiping his head, passing him to his sweat-soaked mother. Lucius looking down on Narcissa, as she manages a genuine smile...

A tiny Draco toddling on unsteady feet, trying to walk to the far side of an enormous hall. He wavers, Narcissa gasps and reaches out; strong male hands-Lucius- steady Draco, and Narcissa's face relaxes into another smile...

Lucius and Narcissa sitting comfortably together, reading a letter penned by a childish hand as a grey eagle owl preens impatiently nearby...

~~~

One more gut-wrenching spin, and Ginny was back in her own time, in the Potions classroom, her sweaty hand still gripping Draco's.

"That gave me more questions than it did answers," Ginny said, meeting Draco's gaze. He nodded.

"Me, too." He looked away, frowning. "My mother isn't even who I thought she was."

"What I don't understand is, how did she know I was researching her past?" Ginny mused aloud. Draco turned back to her, expression wary.

"You were researching my mother's past?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I was researching Lyra Black. I didn't know she was your mother." Quickly, Ginny filled Draco in on what she'd seen at the Library of Magick, and the information she'd found in the Hogwarts archives.

"My mother, who is very much alive, has a posthumous Order of Merlin, Second Class?" Draco asked incredulously. "Speaking of having more questions than answers...." he trailed off.

Ginny frowned, trying to concentrate. "Draco, why would she send this to you now? Did the two of you have some sort of conversation over Christmas?"

"Well, she told me a bit about my father and the Death Eaters- all the things I've already told you," he said. "But nothing about her past ever came up. I don't know why she thought I needed to know now. For that matter, I don't know why she told me about my father when she did." Draco rifled his fingers through his hair impatiently. "This isn't enough. I want to talk to her." He grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her over to the fireplace.

"Draco, don't you think that first we should-" But Draco wasn't listening; his focus was on the fireplace as he tossed in a handful of Floo powder.

"Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy," he said. Ginny waited for the obligatory brightening of the flames, waited for Narcissa to come into view, but instead a house elf appeared.

"The mistress is not available at present," it said stiffly, as if it had given this message a thousand times before. "All inquiries are being redirected to Master Malfoy at this time."

"No- cancel," Draco said hurriedly. But it was too late; a cherry-paneled study whooshed into view, along with the face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco," he said, arching an eyebrow at his son. "What do you want?"

"Why isn't Mother accepting her calls?" Draco demanded, ignoring his father's query.

"She's taken a sleeping potion and gone to bed. Lucius's eyes flicked over to a large grandfather clock. "Shouldn't you be at dinner now?"

"I'll eat later. I want to talk to Mum."

Lucius frowned. "I told you already, she's resting. Is there something I can help you with?"

Draco glanced over at Ginny; anticipating his question, she nodded. He turned back to his father. "I want to know about your past. I want to know why you forced Mum to marry you. I want to know more about Lyra Black, and Ginny and I both want to know what it has to do with the two of us."

***