Forgotten Memories

[Three Months Later]

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the study of Malfoy Manor flipping idly through the pages of Revenge: Curses for Any Occasion and smoking a cigarette. To say that his looks had changed would not have done him justice. He had grown and filled out into a handsome young man. His hair was still that fair color of white blond, but it was longer, the tips of it nearly grazing his shoulders. Two depthless gray eyes were set on a pale and angular face. He was still thin, but not nearly as sickly thin as he had been before. Now he was sturdy.

There was a knock on the door.

"What is it?" Draco asked, leaning back in his chair and blowing the smoke from his cigarette straight up into the air.

The messenger did not open the door because he had not been instructed to, instead he shouted so that his voice would carry into the study. "Master wants to see you."

Draco let out a soft groan. He extinguished the cigarette in an ashtray that sat on his desk before standing and crossing the room. He flung the door open to see that the messenger was Theodore Nott. Draco stepped past the smaller boy and proceeded down the hallway, Nott trailing behind him.

"Is he in his office?"

"Yes, sir."

Draco quickened his pace through the corridors. Voldemort had been using Malfoy Manor as his headquarters since Lucius had been broken out of prison the previous year. They had made it unplottable and put other such protective wards on it so that it was nearly as well guarded as Hogwarts was.

Before Draco even reached forward to knock on the heavy wooden door, he heard the hissing voice of his master: "Come in, Young Mr. Malfoy."

Nott reached forward and opened the door for him.

Draco stepped into the library. The ceiling was easily thirty feet above him, and the shelves on all of the walls reached right up to the top. He had spent a summer devoted to reading every book in the library. He had hardly managed to read one section full, but in that section he had acquired much of his knowledge of the Dark Arts.

"Have a seat, Draco."

Draco turned to see Voldemort seated in a heavy armchair by the fire. A single chair sat across from him and Draco sat in it without argument.

"I have the perfect assignment for you."

A brief startled look overcame Draco's sharp features, but as soon as it appeared it vanished.

"I know that we have not had much luck in that arena, you were not meant for the dirty work of most of my servants. Your hands were not meant to be stained by blood. This of course, renders you nearly useless to me," Voldemort began.

"Are you going to get to the point any time soon?" Draco asked.

"Mind your tongue, boy," said a voice.

Draco turned in his chair to see who had spoken. Leaning in the frame of one of the tall arched windows on the west wall of the library was Lucius; his profile was silhouetted in the orange light of the setting sun.

"Your father would have me toss you out on your ear, but I think it is time you put your sharp wit and charm to good use." His red eyes seemed to flicker in the light of the fire as he gazed coolly at Draco.

Voldemort was the oddest looking creature that Draco had ever seen. He was entirely hairless, and so pale that his skin had an almost green tint to it. His red eyes resembled those of a snake, and his nostrils were so thin they were almost slits. The first time they had med, Draco had honestly expected his tongue to be forked.

"We found Ginny Weasley."

Draco was snapped out of his reverie. "Go on," he said.

"We found a medical file for a 'Ginevra Doe'. Female, age estimated at twenty or twenty-one. She was found in an alley way in New York City on the same night as Miss Weasley's disappearance. She was diagnosed with Amnesia and has since been living in Manhattan."

Lucius had not moved from the window, but the sun had fully set now and it was difficult to make out his outline. He gazed out at the stars for a moment before turning and walking closer to the fire.

Lucius had long, straight white-blond hair that was pulled back with a black satin ribbon at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a pale gray, just like Draco's and he had the same pointed and angular face as well. And when he spoke it was with an elegant drawl that seemed to convey his stature more than his fancy clothes.

"She has no memory of her past. She does not know who you are. She knows nothing of the Dark Lord and his followers. She has a fresh mind."

"And you what would you like me to do? Seduce her to our side?" Draco asked.

Voldemort laughed. It was a laugh so cold it could chill the blood. Draco had to struggle not to shiver.

"I doubt you could manage that, she may have a fresh mind but she is still the same person and wouldn't be the slightest bit tempted by the dark side. And kidnapping her now would be counter-productive, to say the least. Miss Weasley's disappearance has weakened Harry Potter sufficiently and plans are moving forward smoothly. In fact, we may not even need her at all; however, in the event that we do actually need her it would be most convenient to have someone close to her who could deliver her without hassle."

"You need me to baby sit," Draco said.

"More than that. Gain her trust, get into her life. And most importantly, shield her from anything that may remind her of her past. We wouldn't want her to start remembering things and go back to Potter. You can keep your name, but she can not come in contact with anything that might cause her memories to resurface."

Draco stood. As ridiculous as the assignment truly sounded, the idea of getting out of the manor for a while was appealing.

"When would you like me to leave?" he asked.

"As soon as you are ready. Lucius, give him the envelope." Lucius stepped forward and shoved a thick envelope into his son's hand. "You'll find everything you need in there: detailed maps of the city, keys to your apartment, keys to your new vault in the American Wizarding bank in Manhattan, and files on her life and her friends."

"Very well, I'll go pack then. I'll be ready to depart by morning," Draco said. He was trying to sound more confident then he felt.

Voldemort stood and reached out to shake Draco's hand, but instead of seizing the younger man's right hand he took the left. Draco had to keep himself from shying away as Voldemort turned his arm over so that the Dark Mark was visible and then ran his palm over it.

It was as if the mark had been no more than a speck of dirt, Voldemort had wiped it clean away. Draco gasped involuntarily.

"The Mark is still there, beneath the surface. Wouldn't want to risk anyone recognizing it, or you."

Draco nodded and Voldemort released his arm. He waved a lazy hand as if commanding the boy to vacate his presence.

Draco did not need to be told twice, he tucked the envelope under his arm, turned on his heel and sped out of the library. It wasn't until he reached the safety of his study that he realized he had been holding his breath.

He twisted his arm around and stared at the spot where the Dark Mark had been for the past three years. He knew it was just an illusion, but the site of the blank skin still caused his heart to race.

The door to the study swung open and Draco straightened up, shoving his sleeve back down. Only one person could enter the study with out his permission and Draco knew that the visit was not about to be pleasant.

Draco had always aspired to enter a room with as much grace and candor as Lucius Malfoy.

"Father," Draco said in acknowledgement.

"Draco, if I may trouble you for a couple of minutes, I would like to have a word with you." He didn't seem at all interested in hearing a response to this. He was straightening his robes. They were his favorite dress robes. He was always cockier in those robes.

When Draco did not respond, he forged on. "I'm sure you are aware that your performance thus far has been a disappointment. This could be your only hope for redemption, so keep your head in line. Here is your ticket for the Trans-Atlantic Express."

"I'm taking the train? Doesn't that take three days?"

"Yes, but we don't want anyone to trace your movement, the old fool is probably keeping a keen eye on anyone he suspects may be one of us. We wouldn't want to lead him right back to the girl. So a portkey is out of the question."

Draco snatched the tickets from his father's grasp.

"Do not disappoint me, boy."

Draco didn't answer.

His father turned and strolled back out of the study. Draco picked the envelope up off of his desk and exited through a door hidden by a book case and into his private quarters.

=========

It was always a relief when Ginny stepped off of the crowded street and into her apartment building at the end of the day. She had her white work apron on with the embroidery that read "Esmeralda's Friendly Apothecary" and her long, golden-red hair was pulled back in a French braid.

She jabbed the button to summon the elevator and proceeded to dig through her purse in search of her keys. She was still enveloped in this task when the doors clanked open. She had to step about a foot up to get in, but she hardly noticed. The walls of the compartment shook and rattled as it rose through the building.

"There they are!" she said triumphantly to herself as she fished her keys out of the darkest recess of her bag. A moment later the doors opened again. This time the elevator had stopped a foot below where it should have, so that Ginny had to step up again to get out.

Her apartment was dark when she entered but as soon as she flicked on the light she found herself face to face with her two closest friends standing in the middle of her living room, which, incidentally, had been decorated with red and gold streamers.

"SURPRISE!"

John Stanton, the old healer she had met on the first day she woke up, and Karen Glover, a young witch she had met at a bakery in the village, were the only friends Ginny really had in the City.

"What on Earth?" Ginny asked, taking in the decorations.

"Happy Birthday!" Karen flung herself on Ginny, squeezing her into a hug. Karen was a plump and energetic witch. She was often hyper and energetic, so much so that her presence sometimes made the people around her feel tired on her behalf.

"But, it isn't my birthday," Ginny said to John over Karen's shoulder.

"Says who? For all you know it could be," he replied, laughing. "But you have to have a birthday, and why not today?"

Ginny couldn't seem to think of an argument for that.

"We made cake and brought presents," Karen said. "You aren't going to say no to presents and cake are you?"

Having finally been released, Ginny looked thunderstruck. "You guys really didn't need to do all of this, you've already done so much."

"Nonsense," John said, handing her a large, rectangular present wrapped in gold paper. "Open this one first."

Ginny dropped her bag and apron in a nearby armchair and tore the paper open. She gasped.

Staring back up at her was a portrait she had drawn in her first month of this new life. The man had appeared in her dreams on multiple occasions and did not stop appearing until after she had drawn the portrait. John had framed it in a fancy frame and now it looked like an actual piece of artwork.

Ginny lapsed into silence for a moment. She was tracing over the portrait's features with her fingers. Down one cheek and up the other, around the line of his nose and mouth, over the curves of the man's glasses and finally to the jagged scar that cut across his forehead.

"Thank you, John. I know right where to put it," she said. She pulled out her wand and with a casual wave the portrait hung itself over the book case.

Karen handed her the next present. It was a book called The Art of Wizarding Paintings.

"So that you can learn to make those moving paintings," Karen said. "Like in the Witches Museum."

"Awesome!" Ginny opened the book and began to flip enthusiastically through the pages.

John vanished into her kitchen for a moment and re-emerged balancing three plates of cake. He handed one to Karen but had to set Ginny's on the coffee table, because she was now curled up on the couch, immersed in the book.

Karen dug into her cake unceremoniously. She, in Ginny's opinion, was a unique sight. She had cook-aid red hair in a pixie cut. She liked having short hair because it was easier to dye, which she liked to do every other week. And she always used Muggle hair dye, because she found the process intriguing. "Silly Muggles," she would say, mixing the dye in a squirt bottle, "spending hours doing something that could be accomplished in a moment."

No one ever bothered to point out that she would spend hours doing it even though she knew how to do it with magic.

There was no reason to argue the point.

"Aren't you gonna eat your cake?" she asked, licking icing off of the corner of her mouth.

"In a moment," Ginny answered. "This is very interesting and complex."

She then launched into a detailed account of the preparation rituals one had to perform on the paint alone to create a living portrait.

Karen tuned her out and focused on scraping every last bit of icing off of her plate.

"As much as I'd love to stay and hear the spells put on portrait canvases before they are painted on, this old man is out past his bed time," John said, heaving himself off of the couch. "But, before I go, one last present."

He handed her a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.

"Oh, that could be dangerous," Ginny said. "Thank you, John."

"Might I add that there is supposed to be a fantastic thunderstorm tonight, and that an Impervious charm on the balcony would probably keep you both dry. Should be quite a lightening show," he said. He leaned down and kissed Ginny on the forehead in a fatherly manor before vanishing with a pop.

There was a pause in which both of the girls stared at the bottle.

"I don't see why not," Karen said.

==============

Across the Atlantic Ocean, deep in the bowels of Malfoy Manor, Draco was playing a final game of pool with his Death Eater buddies.

"How long will you be gone?" Theodore Nott asked, missing the eight ball horribly.

"I don't know," Draco answered. "Until I am sent for."

"Indefinitely," Crabbe said in an attempt to sound intelligent.

"I think we got that Crabbe," Blaise Zabini said, his black eyes flashed in annoyance. "At least you are getting out of the Manor."

Draco lit a cigarette and ran a hand through his pale hair.

"I am trying to think of it as a vacation, because for however long I am gone I won't have to endure my father at all," Draco said. He sank the eight ball without aiming. "In fact, the only thing I think I'll miss about this place is beating you all at pool."

He slid the pile of Galleons that had been riding on the game into a drawstring bag.

"Enjoy the war," he said, before vanishing out of the door.

===========

"Do you ever consider trying to find the guy in that picture?" Karen asked.

Ginny pre-empted her response with a long sip of whiskey. "Sometimes, but I wouldn't even know where to look. Besides, what if I never actually knew him? What if he was just some guy I knew in school. Or just a face I remember from somewhere else?"

Karen didn't say anything and they lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"Besides," Ginny said, lighting a cigarette. "I kinda like where I am right now, and to try in vain to find a needle in a haystack would be painful. If I ever find him, then I find him."

A bolt of lightening cracked open the sky and thunder rumbled across the city. Ginny lived on the top floor of her building and her balcony had a fairly expansive view of Central Park.

She took another sip of the whiskey and made a face. "This is strong stuff."

"Isn't it great?," Karen asked. "Here, I'll pour you another glass."

==========

Draco's father had been right, no one at the train station showed any interest in seeing his identification. They glanced at his ticket and waved him in the direction of his compartment.

In many ways it reminded him of the compartments on the Hogwarts Express. It seemed smaller though, and a second door connected it to a small bathroom that he would be sharing with the neighboring room. On one wall was a long cushy bench and on the other a bed that folded out of the wall.

He sighed. He would have to spend three days in the compartment, which is how long it would take the Trans-Atlantic Express to reach the United States on railroad tracks forged of water that crossed over the ocean.

Draco folded the bed up and sat roughly down on the bench across from it. He had just reached for his cigarettes when he spotted the no smoking sign. He sank back, banging his head on the wall.

He, instead, took out the envelope that his father had given him, in side it was a thick stack of files and on top of these was a letter:

"Draco,

When you were born, your mother and I had high hopes for you and, thus far, you have fulfilled very few of them. In school you were good but that Mudblood still outscored you. You were a wonderful seeker but still Potter beat you every time.

But I know you take as much joy out of losing as I do and so I know that you will succeed in this task.

If you don't the Dark Lord and I will be highly displeased. I would hate to have to take that displeasure out on you.

Mind your place, boy.

-Lucius"

"What an asshole," Draco said to no one. He clicked open his lighter and set the letter on fire.

For a moment he held it, watching his father's words curl and smoke. With his other hand he placed a cigarette between his lips and then lit it on the flame from the letter. He took a long drag as he dropped the burning letter into the metal trashcan. He then whispered a number of spells to not only seal the door to prevent escaping smoke, but also to remove any detector spells that cold have been in place.

The pile of files still sat in his lap, but he set them aside. He decided instead to sit back and enjoy his cigarette for a moment.

He had plenty of time, he reminded himself. It was a long trip.

============

When Ginny's alarm clock sounded at seven-thirty the next morning she felt like her head might explode. Her hand fumbled blindly across her dresser in search of the clock. It tipped off of the edge and fell to the ground with a crash, but the alarm was silenced.

"Ouch," she mumbled rolling out of bed. She trudged into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee maker.

There was a note taped to it.

"Esmeralda knows you aren't coming in, go back to bed. - John"

"Oh, thank God," she stumbled to the couch and passed out on it.

=============

Draco woke up face to face with the fake wood paneling of his compartments walls. He dressed, pausing only once to look out the window at the expanse of water that stretched out in all directions.

The files were still stacked, untouched on the bench, and he scooped them up before exiting.

He made his way though three cars and then finally to the Dining Car.

He sat at a small table, the stack of files in front of him.

"A cup of coffee and a croissant," he told the waitress when she greeted him.

The first file was labeled "Weasley, Ginevra" and it was the thickest. The first sheet was a basic profile and the picture on it was the same Ginny he remembered from school. But the next thing was a picture that had been taken of her since she'd vanished.

Suddenly Draco understood why Harry had so suddenly fallen for her after graduation, she looked so different. In the picture she was crossing a busy New York City street, her hair shining in the sunlight, wearing a broad smile.

She had a beautiful smile.

"Can I get you anything else sir."

Draco blinked and realized the waitress had returned with his order.

"No, thank you."

The rest of the file was very informative, containing information on her life in the States and from her life before the incident (everything from her favorite color to the names of all her ex-boyfriends).

Following this file were files on both John and Karen and a file on the city itself. There were maps of the subway system, a list of locations that would be helpful to him, detailed information of American Muggle Transportation and money.

Suddenly Draco was grateful the journey across the ocean would take so long, he had quite a lot to study.

==============

Harry closed the trunk and let out a sigh. He stood for a moment, looking around the bedroom. He had not moved a single thing since Ginny had left. Her hairbrush still sat on the bedside table and the clothes she'd left on the floor were still there.

"Hey."

Harry turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway.

"Hello."

"You've packed up all of your stuff?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment. "Everything I need," he said. "Everything else stays."

Hermione took a step towards him. "Harry..."

"It stays," Harry said, sternly. "If she comes back she'll come here."

He turned, picked up his trunk. His eyes seemed empty. Hermione picked up his other bag and tried to smile a little.

She followed him out of the apartment and into the elevator. No one spoke till the doors were closed.

"She'll come back," he said. "Some day."