The Road To Nowhere

Chapter Six

Reading Between the Runes

"Destiny is an invention of the weak and the resigned."

Anonymous

Ginny sat in her spot, her thinking spot. Like Pooh Bear on his log in the Hundred Acre Woods she sat, pushing herself to think, think, think.

Her attention was easily diverted as it had been since she´d taken the intricately sculpted pewter chalice from Mungo´s funerary sarcophagus a week earlier. It lay hidden in the bottom of her bag that was securely locked in her room at the top of the landing in the Burrow.

She´d been home for three days and each day found her here under her oak by the frog pond trying to find a way into that cup, a clue, a message. She hated to admit it, but she needed Hermione´s help to crack this one. But the tricky part was how much to tell her. Ginny needed the runic symbols around the base of the cup translated and Hermione was her best and most discreet bet.

Time was ticking away. Ginny knew this all too well. She would be bound for France again in less than two days and if she were going to corner Hermione and wrangle a translation from her, she needed to do it now.

She was only backhome for five days to see her mum who´d returned a few days earlier from the lake country. She´d had a rather unpleasant talking to about the whole wrist-slashing ordeal. Ginny, although by no means cured of her imaginings and nightmares, had gained a sort of resignation about the whole thing. She would not try to end her life again, at least not in the immediate future, anyway. If the time came when her last option was death, than death it would be, but not by the hand of her enemy. She would die in her own time, but not before cracking this thing. While she was still around she might as well put a spoke in Tom´s wheel.

He´d already found her. That was clear from her earlier dreams, but she would not wait around idly for his strike. She wanted to find out what he was up to and maybe head him off before he´d had the chance to use her.

This cup was meant to be in her possession, though. She felt it with every fiber of her being. She only wished that she knew what she needed to do to use it. It was calling to her, telling her that this was the only way to stop him. She felt empowered by its very presence.

She got to her feet. She should talk to Hermione before dinner. The sun was already climbing in the summer sky. So what if Hermione thought her a wacko with this whole story of stealing, museum capering and indistinguishable runes? She knew Hermione was no snitch and would not betray her confidence and what´s more, she´d already seen Ginny try to top herself once, she might already consider her a wacko without the clandestine French Connection story.

***

Smooth ebony, curves and lines, ivory keys and black as well, all moving together in time to create something magnificent. Bach´s Chaconne from Partita in D Minor--now that was music.

He´d lost himself and the frustrated thoughts that had been chasing him all morning around measure forty-eight, or was if fifty? He´d lost count anyway. There was no sheet music in front of him. He knew this one by heart.

A smile lit his face as a cello picked up the melody behind him. It reminded him of the way his mother used to play, that was the same exact instrument in fact. But now it belonged to Lucy.

As they finished the piece, Draco turned and swung his legs over the other side of the bench. "I didn´t hear you come in. How long have you been here?"

"Not long. I heard you playing our song without me and I threw my bags on the stairs to join you," she smiled and wheeled to where her brother sat, kissing his cheek she continued, "How has Pairs been? What have I missed?"

"Nothing really. I haven´t really gone anywhere worth mentioning and the opera is our thing. I couldn´t go without you. But, I have to tell you that due to your late arrival, we have missed `The Tales of Hoffman´."

"No!" Lucy answered with disappointment.

"How has therapy been?" Draco asked, changing the subject. He would see if he could manage a trip to Vienna next week. He was sure that they could catch her favorite opera there, or perhaps Berlin.

"Oh, you know. It was bearable. I doubt that it makes a difference, but I go for father´s sake. He seems to think that there´s a chance this can all be reversed." She made a sweeping gesture with one hand, indicating her wheelchair.

Draco felt angry at the mention of his father and his pushing this therapy on her when she felt it was hopeless. He knew it was hopeless as well. He didn´t let her see how angry it had made him, though. She wanted to forget the whole thing and go on living as normally as possible. She never understood that when it came to their family, normal would never be welcomed.

He knew she was an angel. Forgiving and forgetting came naturally to her, but Draco never found things that easy. No one laid a hand on his sister who didn´t eventually pay for that mistake. The debt remained outstanding still, but one day that would change. Draco would see to it.

***

Hermione jostled the doorknob in her hand and then stomped a foot on the landing. "Why would she lock it?" she whispered to herself. She knocked again, but knew there would be no answer. Ginny wasn´t in there, Hermione was sure that she´d seen her out in the garden just minutes ago.

"What are you looking for, Hermione?" came Ginny´s voice from the bottom of the stairs.

"Why is the door locked? I need to get to my things as well," Hermione placed a hand on her hip, hoping to look indignant and put out.

Ginny´s eyes lit with realization. "Oh, I´d forgotten entirely. Sorry Hermione!"

Ginny produced a key and unlocked the door hurriedly, pulling Hermione in behind her and locking the door again.

Hermione´s eyes were wide with surprise. What was Ginny up to?

"I guess it´s a force of habit. You know. Six brothers and all.I have something in here that I didn´t want anyone to find."

"Well, you leave your computer in here and never lock the door," Hermione argued rationally, still not convinced that it wasn´t to keep her out.

Ginny waved away the suggestion with one distracted, "Oh well I have encryption software that does a better job than any lock could. They wouldn´t even know how to turn it on anyway."

Hermione became distracted as well, sitting on the end of the bed she watched Ginny riffle quickly through her bag and produce a dull, metallic colored cup. It looked ancient. Hermione shrugged as Ginny held it up to her. Was she supposed to automatically know what that was supposed to be?

"I found it at the museum. It was part of a funerary sarcophagus. Long story," she shook her head as Hermione began to say something, "anyway all I need for you to do just to tell me-." Hermione was not even going to consider what it was that Ginny wanted yet. She wanted to clarify that last bit.

"You found it? You mean you stole it? Do I even want to know which museum, Ginny?" She raised her eyebrows. She knew how condescending it must appear to Ginny, but she didn´t care. Ginny was the last person she would have suspected of being capable of grand theft. What surprised her most was that Ginny didn´t even seem to register that there was a problem with it.

"It was the Louvre if you must know. But I don´t see how that makes a difference. Anyway, like I said, I found it. They didn´t´ even know it was there. But for some reason that I cannot explain, I knew it was there before I even saw it. It was hidden inside the hands of the knight on the outside. But what I need from you is a translation. I need to know what these runes mean." She stopped and handed the cup to Hermione, breathless from the explanation.

Hermione reluctantly took it and surveyed the base that was richly carved in ornate symbols. She breathed a heavy sigh. This might take a while. This was pretty archaic, even for runes.

"Hand me that book there," she commanded of Ginny, pointing to a think, leather bound one on the top of a precarious stack, "and grab a piece of parchment," she added, producing a quill from her pocket and tracing the runes with the dried inked tip.

***

"Mr. Malfoy, a word please," the Deputy Headmistress said with a stone face.

He looked to Justin Finch-Fletchley across the table who shrugged and took his hand off of the chess piece he was about to move. They would have to continue their match at a later date, but Dracowould beat him. That was a certainty.

In the office of the Headmaster, Draco sat indignantly. Couldn´t all of this wait? He knew that he was in trouble for something, what was anyone´s guess. It could have been a million things, but nothing so pressing as to call him from the chess competition.

The Headmaster entered a moment later with the SlytherinHead of House, the elder of the two sat behind his desk with a look that gave Draco the impression that they´d been discussing an issue of vital importance and extreme delicacy. But it was not the Headmaster that spoke. Professor Snape took a tentative step toward him and with a slight bit of difficulty started, "Mr. Malfoy, I have some news regarding your mother."

It was damned cold on the moor where they had buried her. The whining wind and the sound of Lucy weeping were the only things that registered in Draco´smind. November was unforgiving.

Though Snape told him little surrounding the circumstances of his mother´s death, Draco knew what had happened. That was no freak fall down a staircase. It was intentional.

He had never allowed himself to show emotion. His father had preached that it was a sign of weakness. What a load of shit. Lucy was not weak--she had a strength of character that commanded attention and got it, though she wanted nothing more than to blend in. He knew how the loss of her mother would affect her. She had only him now. They had only each other.

Three hours of sleep. That had to be some sort of a record for him. Dracorarely slept through the night and had learned that he could get by just fine on very little.

He took a detour by Lucy´s room where he found her sleeping peacefully before heading to the kitchen. Something containing caffeine should do the trick.

This recollection had bothered him more and more recently. It was, by no means, his only reoccurring nightmare but it had become more prevalent in the past few weeks. He´d suspected that it might be the one thing he´d let leak to Ginny in the infirmary after his injury on the Quidditchfield. He´d tried to get her to tell him what it was that she´d heard him saying in his sleep without result. Just like a Weasleyto gain advantage and exploit it for all it was worth. Or was that a Malfoy trait? He´d lost all comparison.

He´d remembered how trashed she´d looked that last time he saw her in the coffee shop and there was the odd feeling in him that he might have found her somewhat attractive. He immediately pushed that thought aside. Wasn´t she dating that prat, Potter anyway? He´d have to find a way to keep her out of his path. He could easily get her fired and then there would be far less chance of their paths crossing. Yes, that´s exactly what he would do. He didn´t like where all of these preoccupied thoughts were leading him. Draco Malfoy having a thing for Ginny Weasley?It even sounded ridiculous. This had to stop. It did not matter if she needed this job to pay for school. There were plenty of jobs in the city.

He felt a strange reaction to this thought in the pit of his stomach. He couldn´t really do that to her, could he? She looked like she was already dealing with her fair share of problems and he couldn´t add to them. He felt a little stab of guilt at the thought, or what he thought might be guilt. That was an alien emotion for him. Loathing, anger, now those were feelings he could deal with.

A better idea then came to mind.

He couldn´t be sure that she held such incriminating information about his family. She´d warmed to him slightly when he´d played charming, if he hadn´t become so impatient she might have told him what she´d heard. Try the Carey Grant impression again and see where it got him.

Get her fired as a last result.

***

After dinner Hermione and Ginny barricaded themselves in the room at the top of the landing. Ginny sat nervously on the bed staring at Hermione who toiled furiously with the cup, a reference and her notes.

"Ginny, are you sure that there´s nothing you can tell me about it other than you know it has to do something? That´s not a lot to go on, you know?" Hermione looked up and passed a weary hand over her eyes. She´d been staring at that cup for over and hour.

"I´ll tell you more about it when we figure out what it does. Right now, I know about as much as you, Hermione." It was a lie and she felt slightly bad about that.

Hermione scribbled some more on her parchment.

Her eyes lit as she looked at the cup once more, grabbed her reference book and flipped furiously through its pages. More fevered scribbling ensued and then a look of triumph as Hermione threw down her quill and announced she´d gotten it.

"It´s a Pensieve, Ginny and you´ll never guess whose it supposedly was." Hermione paused for effect.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in question.

"It was Helga Hufflepuff´s, though I doubt it was actually hers. It´s very likely that it is a knock off."

"It´s not," Ginny said confidently, "I found it on the funerary monument of her son, Mungo Hufflepuff. It looked like it had never been disturbed. It was still in its locked hiding place."

Hermione let out a breath of relief or excitement or apprehension, Ginny wasn´t sure which. "Do you think it really holds her thoughts, the thoughts of one of the original founders of Hogwarts? I wonder what sort of things she would put in a Pensieve." Hermione eyed the cup with admiration and mumbled to herself.

"Well, we´ll never know will we?" Ginny interrupted, "I still don´t know how we´re supposed to use it, get inside it and all that." She couldn´t help the frustration that was starting to boil inside of her now. It had taken them this long to even crack the inscription and she´d already guessed that it must be Hufflepuff´s.

"Oh, well that´s the easy part," Hermione shrugged. "How´s your potions supply?"

"Full," Ginny replied with a shrug. Best not to say too much when Hermione was on a roll and she was. Ginny didn´t want to distract her.

Reaching for another think volume, a potions index this time, Hermione found the ingredients for Pensieve Thought Preservation Oil almost immediately.

"All it needs is a little oil and it should be as good as new." She smiled, very pleased with herself. Ginny couldn´t suppress a smile of her own. She knew Hermione was the perfect go to girl.

"So it´s not the oil that houses the thoughts it´s the cup itself?" Ginny asked, now fully understanding how simple it all was.

"Yes, I´ll have it ready in an hour´s time. Only one thing though," she added tentatively.

"And what´s that?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"I go with you. I know you can´t be harmed inside of a Pensieveand all but I would feel better if you didn´t go on your own."

"Agreed," Ginny replied knowing that Hermione wouldn´t want to pass up this prime research opportunity. She´d automatically assumed that Hermione would join her. She wouldn´t tell a living soul about the expedition.

Ginny trusted her.