Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 18

But Ginny couldn't bring herself to go to Stella's office the next day. Or the day after that, for that matter.

For as badly as she wanted to know if she were ill and could be dying, the very prospect of it terrified her. So she found creative ways to avoid it, including telling herself that she didn't want any devastating news to ruin their family's Christmas. And for the moment, she put it out of her mind.

She ended up putting it out of her mind for quite some time.

Several weeks later, well into the New Year, Ginny summoned her courage at last. She stood in the loo nearest the front door, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She shook down a nervous shudder.

I have to do this. For my children's sake.

She packed up her little ones and took them on their first trip to Muggle London. Rhiannon was a mixture of amusement and amazement by some of the sights. Automobiles, phone boxes, street lamps, Muggles in their 'funny clothes' - all of it held her fascination. Her mother hated that she would probably end up Obliviating the entire visit from the girl's young mind.

They got to Stella's office around mid-morning. The doctor explained that all she would do is make a tiny pin-prick for a sample of their blood. Ginny felt relieved, knowing that with her magic, they wouldn't even feel the momentary sting of the needle.

As Dr. Winterbourne finished drawing the last sample of blood, she asked her friend, "How far along are you, Ginny?"

"My last period was November 2nd, and it's now, uh, January 28th--"

"The 29th," the physician corrected.

"Yes, the 29th. So I'm about 12 or 13 weeks."

Stella grinned at her and asked, "Would you like to know if you're having a boy or a girl?" Ginny couldn't help but smile back.

"Muggles can actually tell?" she marveled.

"Yes, but not from a blood test. It's more like what we did when you were pregnant the last time." The young mother thought for a few seconds then Stella pressed her for an answer. "So, do you want to know the baby's sex?"

She thought for a few seconds then said eagerly, "Sure. Why not?"

Dr. Winterbourne reached around to turn on the lamp and select the tools she would need. Ginny took this as her cue to lie back on the frigid examining table. Almost instantly she wished had taken the time to cast a warming charm, but she shrugged it off. She adjusted her position and prepared herself mentally for the procedure.

Stella tried to make small talk about her holidays, but Ginny wasn't paying much attention. She closed her eyes and said, "Please, let's just get this over with."

The doctor completed her work in silence. When she was finished, she said, "Plan on coming back Friday next for the results. If there's a delay, I'll let you know."

Ginny's eyes widened as she repeated with surprise, "Friday? Why so long?"

"I'm sorry, but the lab technician who does these is out. His wife and kids all have the flu."

The witch relaxed a little and gave her a slight smile. She thanked Stella then bundled up Lucas, Rhiannon, and herself. The three of them left Muggle London and were soon back at their home.

Ginny felt restless. She briefly considered time traveling to avoid having to wait several days for their results. But going forward in time and back again was even more physically demanding than using a Time Turner, and she was already feeling tired. She opted to stay in the present and spend time with her children in the playroom.

Rhiannon was busy entertaining her little brother with a puppet show. Lucas giggled each time the marionettes disappeared quickly from the make-shift stage. He clapped his tiny hands and laughed loudly when they reappeared. Ginny smiled at the sight. Taking a seat on a floral-patterned ottoman underneath the window, she settled in to watch her children play as light flakes of snow fell softly outside.

Eventually, Lucas grew bored and cranky. It had been a trying day for them all, and Ginny decided it was time for his nap. She picked him and laid him down in his crib. As she did, she noticed how much like Draco he was, especially when he was crabby. When he was happy or content, he seemed to look a bit more like Lucius.

As her mind turned to her fiancé, she briefly debated whether she should just tell him about their trip today. She soon thought better of it, and although she regretted doing so, cast a memory charm on her chatty little girl - just in case she mentioned the strange things she'd seen that day. Not that there was anything to hide . . . but if the tests were negative, she reasoned, there was no reason to alarm him.

Ginny and Rhiannon also laid down for a rest. They didn't get up until Toddy rang them for tea.

* * * * *

Neville was standing in front of his office fireplace, pacing. He was expecting visitors at any moment. Although Goodspeak and Petree themselves weren't coming this time, the latter of which he found overbearing and rather annoying, he still felt anxious. Butterflies had invaded his stomach shortly before lunch, causing him to forego dessert.

At last, the two wizards he'd been expecting arrived.

"Come in, Marcus. Vincent." He ushered them into his office. Indicating the tray that was close by, he asked, "Would either of you like some tea?" They declined. The two men sat down at the table, the same one where Ginny had been all those weeks ago. Their host took a seat next to the tea set and helped himself to a cup.

Flint got straight to work. He reached into his bag and withdrew a writing pad and quill. Without first asking permission, he reached out his hand and silently helped himself to a bottle of ink on the shop owner's desk. Neville blinked, not quite sure what to say at first.

"Doesn't the Ministry provide you with ink?" was all he could come up with.

Marcus looked up from his parchment and did not comment. Instead, he got right down to business. "What do you have for me, Longbottom?"

Thrown off a bit by Marcus's abrupt manner, the herbologist cleared his throat and began.

"Yes. Well, I was able to identify the material that was found on under Macnair's fingernails and on his kitchen table, the stuff the Aurors brought--"

"Petree and Goodspeak?

"Yeah. They brought it over a few weeks ago and asked me to analyze it."

"I know, Longbottom, that's why I'm here. What was it?" the detective asked in a clipped tone.

"Now, there isn't test to be absolutely certain, but it definitely had all the qualities of Sacred Datura. It's a relative of the nightshade plant. Both can be dangerous, even when handled properly."

"Nightshade," Flint repeated, his quill scratching feverishly across the pad. "Tell me, if it's so harmful, why the hell is it called 'sacred'?"

Neville gave a nervous laugh. "You know, I wondered that myself. Turns out some native cultures use it - or rather, used it - in their religious ceremonies. It was part of a boy's spiritual test for manhood. Sadly, some boys did not survive," he finished, mumbling the last part.

"And you suspect that handling this plant, this uh, Da-too-ra . . . you think that's what killed him?" Marcus concluded.

At last, Vincent jumped in. "Oh, I doubt it. If he handled it very often, he surely knew what he was doing, and the risks involved."

"What's it used for today?"

Flint's former housemate smirked. "What else? Illegal potions. But you won't find it as an ingredient in any book, other than those that followers of You-Know-Who might just 'happen' to have in their personal collections."

Marcus leaned back and crossed his arms. A smile spread slowly across his face. "So where'd you find it, Vince? In your father's study?" he asked, causing old housemate to color slightly. Flint took little notice and continued with his interview. "What kinds of potions we talking about here, Longbottom?"

"Mostly the kinds that alter perception and effect brain functions. You know, the ones that--"

"Fuck with your mind?" the detective butted in, giving him a wicked grin.

"Y-yeah," he agreed, a bit unnerved by the older wizard's toothy smile.

Growing impatient, Marcus snapped his fingers and started to demand more information, but the younger wizards really had nothing more to offer at this time. So he packed away his quill, his pocket notepad, and the ink bottle. He stepped toward the fireplace to Floo back to the Ministry to report his findings to Goodspeak and Petree as soon as they returned from the continent.

"They got a lead this week some Death Eaters had been spotted around Hamburg," he explained. "They're due back at 2:00, and I want to be there, ready and waiting for them."

"Umm . . . Marcus? My ink?" Neville reminded him.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said as he handed it over. "Thank you, gentlemen. You've been most helpful."

"No problem."

"See you, Marcus."

Giving each one a nod, he simply said, "Crabbe. Longbottom." Then he stepped into the fireplace.

Once he had gone, Neville said, "See? That didn't take long." He glanced up at the clock on the mantle and remarked, "You know, my next meeting isn't for two hours."

"And?"

"And before that, I'm going to St. Mungo's to see a Healer friend of mine. He says he has some samples for me to look at."

"Samples? Why are you telling me?"

"Well, I'd like you to come along, if you've got time. I've been wanting to talk with you some more about those plants and herbs I've been studying. I thought with some careful crossbreeding, we may be able to harness some of their lesser known properties."

"Isn't that your area?"

"It is, but . . . " He paused, slightly exasperated.

"Look," he finally confessed, his eyes welling up a little, "it's Tuesday, so I'm going to visit my parents. I wanted to see if those new blends we've come up with are helping them in any way. I figured you might want to observe the changes for yourself."

Knowing how difficult it was for Neville to see his parents and remain completely objective from a work standpoint, Vincent decided he probably should go. He changed the subject. "These plants you mentioned, the hybrids: what do you want to know?"

"Well, I have a few ideas, but I'll need your help with them. I've never been all that good at potions."

"Really?" he said sarcastically. "And just how many cauldrons did you melt in Snape's class?"

"None! Well - maybe one or two. So you'll come with me?"

"Yeah, all right." Vincent eyed the morsels that lined the tray and licked his lips. "Say, is that biscotti any good?"

Neville smiled and assured him, "It's the best. Our baker is from Milan." He magically wrapped it all up in a bag and handed it to him. "Here, now let's go by Floo."

* * * * *

Once Dr. Winterbourne had Ginny's test results back, Brian convinced her that they should meet with Hermione before giving them to the expectant mother. At first, she couldn't see the point, but the Healer felt that Mrs. Potter's nearly saint-like status in the wizarding world might carry some weight with the Aurors who had handled their mutual friend's case. She would be the ideal person to present the evidence, should they decide to go forward with it.

The three of them sat at the kitchen table in the Potter's modest home. It was around 8:00 in the evening, and Jamie and Lily were upstairs getting ready for bed. "Well, thank God for some good news," Hermione said when the doctor told them that Ginny and her children were all HIV negative.

"Yes, it's very good news," Brian agreed.

"I don't understand. How did she manage to avoid it?"

The Muggle doctor shrugged. "He was very careful: he either used condoms, or more likely, found another partner."

"I'm sure he'd have no qualms about doing that," Hermione said with a scoff.

Brian interrupted, saying, "Stella, what else did you find out?"

She explained the other test she had administered. "According to my friend at the DNA lab, Lucas and Rhiannon do not have the same father. But as for the babies - she's having twins - there's an almost 90% chance that they and Lucas do. But they couldn't tell for sure without a sample from--"

"Lucius Malfoy," Mrs. Potter gasped, her mind in a whirl. "Of course, that would make sense! But was he even out then?" She paused. "Brian, do you think - that is, would he have had the opportunity?"

"What are you saying?"

"I was just wondering, who could I talk with about Mr. Malfoy's release date? That is, exactly when did he get out of Azkaban?"

"Marcus Flint might be a good place to start. I'm sure he'd have access to all those files. But I have heard they're not very accurate. Dementors are not good record keepers."

For some reason, this made Hermione chuckle. "I'm sure they're not. But what about the people who sign those papers and authorize the releases?"

"I'd still recommend Flint. Neville says he's become involved, to some degree, since this case and Professor Snape's could be connected. Go see him when you have some time. Show him these results, if you think it'll help."

"Frankly, I am a bit leery of the Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Some of those ministry types take it so seriously! They're so Anti-Muggle, it's ridiculous."

He nodded in agreement; he was all too familiar with that feeling. "What's your theory, Hermione?"

She sighed. "It's just that, well . . . I've always wanted to be able to clear Harry's name. Now that we know Ginny's already had a child by Lucius Malfoy, I think we know who attacked her that evening almost two years ago."

"I suppose it is possible," Brian mused, "for a very capable wizard. But he had just left Azkaban. Wouldn't his powers have been somewhat diminished?"

"He could have had help. They never did find You-Know-Who's corpse . . . and he's always been in league with him."

Meanwhile, poor Stella sat there, dumbfounded, only picking up little bits from the interchanges. "Excuse me," she finally cut in, "I think I missed my Witchcraft, Level 1 lesson - what are you two talking about? And who the hell is 'you-know-who'?"

Remembering her own ignorance of the wizarding world more than a decade earlier, Hermione set about explaining Unforgivables, the Dementors, and some of the basic laws: what was allowed, what wasn't, what was technically not 'illegal' but questionable at best. She finished by telling her about Azkaban and what sort of place Lucius had been in for the past few years, and what effects it might have had on his body and his psyche. The very thought of it caused Stella to shudder.

"You know," she said, "the more I hear about your world, the happier I am to be in mine." Returning their focus to the information they now had, she asked, "So, what's our next step? There must be, uh, wizarding policemen we can take this information to?"

"Yes, we can probably take it to the Aurors who were involved in Ginny's case," her cousin said, more to Hermione than to Stella.

The Muggle repeated the strange word. "Aurors. Is that what this, uh Marcus Flint is - an Auror?"

Brian snorted. "He wishes he was - or so I've been told. He does more detective work and research. He does the leg work, while the Aurors do the more dangerous work of actually facing these bastards and taking them down."

"Let's not split hairs, Brian. Can one of you get the results to 'wizarding headquarters', or whatever you call?" said Stella.

Hermione nodded and promised she would go see Marcus at the Ministry as soon as she could. Suddenly, they heard the stomping of feet overhead. Peals of laughter followed, then a heavy 'thud', a slow, long cry, and the shouting of, "Mummy! Come quick!"

"Oh dear, sounds like the natives are getting restless," her new friend said, secretly grateful that she herself had no children. "We'll just show ourselves out."

* * * * *

During the long days that followed their tests, Ginny grew restless. She told herself they were all going to be fine; the tests were just a precaution. But try as she might, she couldn't get one glaring fact out of her mind: Narcissa had died of a deadly disease, one transmitted primarily by sex. Yet oddly enough, her husband appeared to be perfectly healthy. It just didn't seem logical.

Of course, she wasn't so naive to think that the two of them didn't have relations at all after he returned from Azkaban. In her quest to find Lucius not only healthy, but blameless in his wife's death, Ginny eventually found the answer - the only one she could accept.

"It wasn't Lucius at all. Narcissa must have slept with Severus," she said to herself again in the mirror as she finished tying up her hair the morning of her follow-up appointment.

"Naturally suspicious, Lucius learned of her infidelity and her illness. Doing so would have certainly been within his ability, and he took steps to protect himself." Other than Hermione's rather bizarre story, which Ginny frankly doubted was even possible, this was the only thing that made sense.

But what Ginny didn't know was that although Severus had longed for his relationship with Narcissa to go there, it hadn't. He respected and feared Lucius enough to refrain from touching the man's wife. He ached for her love, but after all, he knew his boundaries.

It was only one assumption of many that she had that would soon be proven wrong.

When Dr. Winterbourne told her at last that neither she nor her children had the dreaded virus, Ginny was overjoyed. Her thoughts turned quickly to her fiancé. "What does this mean for Lucius?" she asked anxiously.

"They must have done what Muggles do: use condoms or go without - which doesn't sound likely for a man who had been away for as long as he had."

Ecstatic, Ginny hugged the physician and burst into tears. "I don't care how it happened, Stella . . . but I'm just so glad that everyone's okay! Thank you!"

"Wait, Ginny, I have something else to tell you."

She turned around and smiled eagerly. "Oh, that's right! Boy or girl?"

"Actually, both: you're having twins. But Ginny--"

But the witch was gone, vanished on the spot, leaving the doctor to ponder what to do next.

* * * * *

With her hope restored and her spirits renewed, Ginny decided to pop in the Ministry to check on the status of their marriage license. She'd had her doubts, but now she was anxious to set the date, make the honeymoon arrangements, and plan the party for after their return.

She entered the Ministry building and had her wand checked. As the guard inspected it, she thought of how different - and difficult - it was getting married this time. It hadn't been as easy as just filling out a form, paying the fee, and receiving a license, as she and Draco had done years ago. Because her fiancé was a former convict, there was a 30-day waiting period before a license could be issued. It was sort of a 'cooling off' period, just in case the partner who didn't have a criminal record (which was usually the bride) was being forced to marry against her will or was having second thoughts. Due to bloodlines and property rights, wizard divorces were terribly complicated, nastily expensive, and were to be avoided at all costs.

She approached the clerk at the Marriage License office and made her inquiry. The slight little fellow grimaced at her. He gazed down at his records, made an odd face, and then explained that her license was being delayed. "Just briefly," he assured her as he reshuffled his papers like the perfect bureaucrat.

"Delayed? Are you sure?" she ask him doubtfully.

"I'm sorry, miss, but your application seems to be missing from my files. All I have in its place is a slip of parchment with some scribbles on it."

Ginny was flabbergasted.

"So you have no actual record that I applied? No copies or anything? It was around Christmas. I know it was done in the last ten days of the year."

"It's simply not here. I truly am sorry. Perhaps you should just, er, reapply?"

"But we've already waited 32 days!" Ginny refused to leave without the license. She said firmly, "I want to speak with your supervisor."

"Y-yes, miss," the clerk answered nervously.

"And stop calling me 'miss'! I am Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. I'll just go and get her." He left his station hurriedly. He returned with a woman with fashionable glasses and just a hint of grey around her temples.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Dempster. Harvey here tells me you are having a bit of trouble. What seems to be the problem . . . I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny informed her. "The problem is that someone has lost my application for a marriage license. I applied over a month ago, and now Harvey here can't seem to find any trace of it!"

"Malfoy, Malfoy - why does that sound familiar?" The woman searched through the clerk's files then moved to the storage cabinet. Several minutes later, she exclaimed, "Ah, here we are! It was in the 'Married' file."

She scoffed. "Why on Earth would it be there?"

"Well, I suppose since your last name is Malfoy, and his is as well, someone presumed that you two had already married. But see here? This proves that you have not."

The supervisor leaned over the counter and pointed to a spot on the form that was blank. Ginny expected it to say 'Date of Marriage', but it didn't. Instead, it just said "HOLD" and the initials EG.

Ginny was becoming rather agitated. If she didn't leave soon, the children would both be up from their naps.

"Who is EG, and why are they holding my application?"

"I'm not completely sure. Let me check. Harvey, get Mrs. Malfoy some tea, won't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Even though she was being seen to, she was still annoyed. She would have drunk the tea, but just to aggravate Harvey, she left the cup untouched and the drink go cold. When Mrs. Dempster returned, she had a man at her side, who for some reason, was vaguely familiar to Ginny.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she said, "this is Edmund Goodspeak. He said he needs to talk with you."

When she stood up to shake his hand, her legs nearly fell out from underneath her. She remembered him from a night long ago. It was the night Draco was killed . . .

"Yes. We've - we've met. How are you?" she asked slowly.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Malfoy. And yourself?"

"Very well, thank you."

"I understand you and Mr. Malfoy are happy together and that congratulations are in order."

"Indeed," Ginny said, "That's why I'm here, to see about our license."

"I am sorry for the delay. Won't you come into my office?" Realizing she might not get the license at all if she didn't at least talk with him, she obliged.

The two of them stepped into the room. On the table was an unmarked package that was slightly smaller than a breadbox. Ginny took a seat and was introduced to the other wizard in the office, a man called Rothchild Petree. She gladly accepted Edmund's offer of a cup of tea.

"Strange," she said, stirring in the milk, "but it's all coming back to me now, that night. When we last met, you had a female partner, didn't you?"

"Very good, Mrs. Malfoy," Edmund answered, impressed that she recalled that detail. "I did have a woman working with me that night. But then, I always do, in cases of sexual assault. Rothchild and I find it easier for women to talk with one of their own after such an event."

"Bedelia, wasn't it? Does she only work on cases like . . . like what happened to me?"

"Actually," Rothchild joined in, "she's me. That is, I'm her. Edmund's right. Women are always more comfortable speaking with another woman, and so I do the initial inquiry and assist with the examination afterward. But we don't share that information with anyone but the victim, and only then if they ask."

The hair on the back of Ginny's neck stood up. "Why are you telling me now? And what does this have to do with my marriage license being put on hold?"

"Mrs. Malfoy, we have good reason - several good reasons - to believe the man you are about to marry may be the very one who attacked you."

She laughed once. Seeing their serious expressions looking back at her, she could only say, "You're joking, right?"

"No, ma'am," Edmund went on. "He knows things about that night, things that no one else would unless they were there."

Ginny could hardly believe what he was saying. "For instance?" she challenged him, still thinking he was making a colossal mistake.

"He also knew of Bedilia Armstrong, too," Petree said. "No one knows about her unless they are involved in an investigation of this sort. She's our trade secret, if you get my meaning. Or did you mention her to him?"

"I-I might have, I don't know." Determined to support her fiancé, to be on his side, she added, "Given his history, since that's all you know about him, I'm sure you won't believe it . . . but he has changed for the better! He is a wonderful man. He means the world to me, and I intend to defend him to the death!" she finished, breaking into sobs.

"Mrs. Malfoy, we don't mean to upset you. But in order to get the license approved, you must do one of two things for the Ministry."

"No, I won't do it! I don't have to - we can be married somewhere else. We don't need to have it sanctioned by the British Ministry of Magic!" Ginny sneered as she pushed her swivel chair away from the table and stood up.

Petree approached her. He put his hands on her shoulders and started to say something, but she threw him off. "I don't need to listen to this," she snarled as she made for the door.

Edmund rose to his feet and warned her, "Even if you don't want to press charges against him for the rape and the possible use of the Imperius curse . . . if you do not cooperate, you could be seen as his accomplice."

"What?" she shot back at him, the tears still wet on her face. "An accomplice on an attack on myself?"

"It's not the only crime he's suspected of."

Ginny was quite glad she was near a chair, as she fell right into it. "What are you saying? What crimes?" She meant to scream at them, but it came out in a disbelieving whisper.

"For some of these, we only have circumstantial evidence. Eyewitnesses can be hard to come by, especially when their memories can be modified and their point of view manipulated."

She looked between Rothchild and Edmund and back again then said, "Go on."

"He is on a short list of suspects for two, perhaps three, murders," Goodspeak informed the stunned young witch.

"What?" she said again. "How can you even . . . who? What murders?"

"Mrs. Malfoy, I don't know if you can be objec--"

Infuriated, she rose to her feet and shouted defiantly, "And just who do you think he may have killed?"

"Severus Snape, Walden Macnair - and Narcissa Malfoy."

"That is ridiculous! Lucius hadn't seen Severus in years, and he and Macnair were barely even acquaintances. And as for Narcissa, she died of natural causes!"

Petree looked at her coolly and said, "Natural causes that may have been exacerbated by a certain dark wizard who just happens to live in the same home as you."

Ginny sat down. She sighed and murmured, "That's preposterous."

"And why would you say that?"

"Because if that were true, I would be ill, and I'm not!" Goodspeak raised his eyebrows. "I know what it was, and I have been tested for. I got my negative results earlier today," she added with certainty.

Edmund spoke again. "Be that as it may, if you want to clear him of all suspicion, and get your marriage license, we need your cooperation." She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. The Auror reached into a drawer and withdrew an empty bottle. "What is his favorite liquor?"

"Brandy," she revealed in a half-whisper then pursed her lips, frustrated at the predicament she found herself in.

"An excellent choice." Rothchild touched his wand to the lip of the bottle and filled it with liquid amber. Then he sealed it, adhered a shiny black and gold label, and secured the top with a metal lid and an embossed seal.

"This exquisite blend has been laced with Veritaserum. You have three days to give him a glass, get his confession, put it in this Pensieve, and bring it back here. We'll go in the Pensieve with you; if everything checks out, you'll get your marriage license."

Ginny looked away briefly, as if she were considering her other options. The only trouble was, she didn't see any. "And no more waiting?"

"No," Edmund assured her.

When she didn't answer, his partner asked her, "Do we have a deal, Mrs. Malfoy?"

She looked away and remained silent.

"I said, do we have a deal?"

Ginny met his eyes and glowered at him. She reached out for the bottle of brandy and the box that contained the Pensieve. She pulled them toward her, feeling more determined than ever to prove Lucius's innocence, once and for all.

~End of Chapter~