The Search

Chapter Eight: Visitations

The clock hanging above the sofa usually ticked on unnoticed, a mere background noise like the sound of cars outside, the thumping bass of a neighbor's stereo system, the rumble of worn plumbing. But as Draco walked through the small apartment, looking carefully to be sure that privacy was ensured for the five conspirators, it was abnormally loud and strangely ominous.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing the meeting would just get started. Her thoughts were shared by all but Harry, who just wished Draco would stop snooping about his flat.

Finally Draco was satisfied. He returned to the living room and sat down on a patch of faded green carpet. "All clear," he said, almost sounding disappointed. "Let's get on with it."

"It's about bloody time," Ron mumbled. Both Hermione and Padma smacked him. It was the sixth time he'd complained in the last ten minutes, and they were slightly fed up with it.

"Must be nice to be loved," said Harry, completely deadpan.

"Enough of that," said Draco. "Here's the basic rundown- we're meeting at the Astro Diner on Elizabeth Avenue around eight. We'll stagger the arrivals, so we don't attract attention. When my contact gets off, he'll lead us to the rendezvous point. Then we'll be taken to Riddle's current hideout, if all goes well. We'll have as much undercover equipment as possible, so every second will be recorded. This entire trip is pretty much recon, to try and find out what's the game. Although if the opportunity to get Virginia comes, we won't pass it up."

"You missed your calling as a brief sergeant, Malfoy," said Padma dryly.

"What's this whole disguise bit?" asked Ron suddenly. "How exactly are we gonna pull this off?"

"Everyone needs a persona, a name, and a motive, and the disguise stuff to pull it off. We need to know who's who beforehand," said Harry. "At the risk of sounding like we're kids setting up a game of pretend, I'm going to be the guy-on-parole who's tired of being a goody-two-shoes, by the name of Eli Thomas. I've already got my stuff together."

Padma leaned back in her seat and picked at her shoelaces. "You're not going as Adrian, are you Draco?"

Draco flushed and said nothing. Padma grinned wickedly at him while the others exchanged confused glances.

"Too bad, huh? He's so much fun."

"Shut up, Padma."

Padma laughed. "All right. I'm Katie Rodriguez, black market lady."

Draco groaned. "Anyone but her. Come on Padma, be nice."

Padma raised an eyebrow, but didn't give any reply.

"I'll be an embezzling banker," said Hermione. "I can pull it off reasonably well, and they would probably be attracted to someone who could provide funding. I think I'll go by… June something."

"June Grant," said Harry, making the decision for her. Hermione gave him a look of mingled annoyance and amusement.

"Right. June Grant. And what about you, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. Pick something for me, 'Mione."

"You sure that's a good idea?" asked Harry; bright green eyes filled with mischief. Hermione bit her lip to hide a smile. "Rodney West, street hustler."

"Whaaat?!"

"Hey, you asked for it," said Padma, smacking Ron upside the head to get him to stop ogling Hermione like she'd grown three heads. "Deal with it, dude. Or would you rather be a nerdy computer programmer, or a rent-a-cop?"

"Shut up."

"And what about you, Draco?" asked Harry, interrupting what could eventually become a nasty argument. "You said something about a waiter before."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "As if I would condescend so much. No, I'm gonna be something else."

"Like what?" asked Padma. "If you're going as Adrian, please tell me, because I'd love to go as Tali."

"Not a chance, Padma. It was bad enough pretending to be married to you once. I'm going as Derek Thorpe."

"What's he do?" asked Ron, thoroughly enjoying the entire scene. He couldn't wait to see how bad of actors everyone proved to be.

"You'll find out," Draco snapped. "Does everyone have the disguise stuff?"

A chorus of affirmatives sounded out.

"Got weapons?"

Blank stares from everyone except Padma.

"I haven't passed them out yet, Draco," said Padma. She stood and grabbed a small overnight bag from under the end table. Then she sat and began rummaging through it.

"What's in there?"

"Guns, ammo, mini-communicators, smoke bombs, fuses, detonator, plastics explosives, a few knives, and a first aid kit," said Padma, giving Ron an ironic grin. "Bit of a non-sequiter, huh?" She pulled out a pistol and showed it to everyone.

"You'll get something kinda like this. Ten shots per magazine. You get three magazines, along with the one in the gun. Keep it loaded, safety on, just in case." She tossed it back in the bag. "Everyone here know how to aim?"

"I should think so," said Hermione. "You, Harry, and Malfoy are all law enforcement people, and Ron and I know what we're doing with a gun. We've rescued Virginia before, you know."

"Right," said Ron absently, rubbing his arm where Padma had elbowed him during her rummaging. "What she said."

"Still, I want everyone to spend a few hours at a range tomorrow," said Padma. "So you know what you're doing. Also, everyone gets one of these." She pulled out what looked like a tiny hearing aid. "It's a little transceiver, so we can all talk to each other."

Padma spent the next fifteen minutes briefing everyone on their equipment, and the usage thereof. She seemed to find particular pleasure in adding gruesome details when describing the effects of certain weapons. Hermione looked quite green by the time Padma had finished.

"Is that it?" asked Harry wearily. He wanted everyone out of his apartment.

"Yeah," said Padma. "I'll pass the stuff out when we're leaving."

"Anything else, everyone?"

"Where's this diner?" asked Ron.

"Corner of Bankhurst Drive and Sequoia Lane," said Draco immediately. "When you get there, sit off by yourself and pretend to be busy with either the menu or something else. Make sure you order something, the waitresses are pretty touchy."

"Aye, mon capitan," said Ron dryly. "Anything else?"

"Nope, that's it. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone stood. Padma wandered around giving out equipment. While she was occupied explaining the transceiver to Ron (again), Harry grabbed Draco by the elbow and dragged him into the kitchen.

"I want to talk to you," said Harry, voice low. Draco's eyebrows raised and a wicked grin toyed with his mouth.

"Don't even start, Malfoy," Harry said, before Draco could speak. "It's about that notebook stash."

"What about it?"

"The last entry said something about willows. Know what that means?"

Draco paused, thinking, then shook his head. "No. I have an idea, but it's probably wrong."

"What idea?"

Draco shook his head again, more urgently this time. "Don't sweat it, rookie. I'll look into it. You worry about the thing Wednesday night."

Harry gave Draco a dirty look. "Fine, be that way. Get out of here, Malfoy."

"Only too happy to oblige." Draco left the apartment, strutting the entire way. Harry mumbled a few nasty references to Draco's ancestry under his breath.

"Harry, you all right?"

Harry looked up sharply. "Yeah, Herm, I'm fine, why?" he replied sharply.

Hermione looked rather taken aback at his vehement response. "You looked put out over something, that's all," she said defensively. "Malfoy can be a bit annoying."

"A bit?" Harry snorted. "He's the embodiment of cruel and unusual torture."

"And you have personal knowledge of this, hmm?" asked Hermione, an echo of Ron's evil grin flickering across her face. Harry wagged a finger before her nose.

"Don't even go there. Just don't."

Hermione grinned. "If you insist, Eli. Look, I need to go, I'll see you around, 'kay?"

"Yeah. Stay out of trouble."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Harry?"

"All right, keep Ron out of trouble," Harry conceded, grinning wryly as he remembered their many escapades in high school and college. "You probably won't succeed, but try anyway."

Hermione snorted. "No kidding. Anyway, bye, Harry." Hermione waved absently and slipped through the kitchen doorway. She grabbed Ron by the elbow, snatched up her purse, and made a rather graceless exit with Ron protesting on the grounds that he still needed to figure out the trans-whatchamacallit.

"You need anything explained to you too?" Padma stuck her head in the kitchen doorway, looking harassed, her one unclouded eye filled with deep annoyance and the need to harangue all non-technological people to death. Preferably starting with Ronald Arthur Weasley.

"Nah, I'm good," said Harry. "Drive safe, okay? I don't want to have to replace someone else."

Padma rolled her eyes. "I'm not a dunder-headed idiot. I'll be fine, Mother, don't sweat it." She vanished from the doorway. Harry could hear her getting her stuff packed again.

"I'm gone, Potter," Padma called over her shoulder as she pulled the front door open. "See you Wednesday."

"Bye," Harry replied absently, opening the freezer to see if he had any TV dinners left. He could cook, but he didn't feel like it and it would end up tasting like crap anyway.

"Willows…" Harry muttered to himself as he tossed the tray in the microwave. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Thinking about it only made the problem worse. Virginia had never mentioned willows to him, and he didn't know what significance it could have. He had, quite literally, hit a mental wall.

"I hope Malfoy knows what it means," said Harry to the empty kitchen, "because otherwise I don't know if we'll be able to figure this out."

* * *

Tuesday Night

6:47 PM

Draco checked the scrap of paper on the dashboard. This was the right address, it claimed, but somehow it didn't look like the place he remembered.

Three story, ancient house, painted in slightly faded ivory. A modest front lawn, with flower beds before the large wrap-around porch. The enormous backyard faded into a thick stand of trees. It looked the same, but at the same time…

Draco shook his head as he opened the door of his Jeep. He was going mad. The house hadn't changed at all, except for a few minor differences in the flowers and the house was painted ivory instead of green, with blue trim instead of white, and the chain link fence had vanished.

It's been a while, hasn't it, Draco thought to himself as he walked up the stone path to the porch. I keep imagining redheaded kids all over the place.

Maybe that's what he thought was wrong. The house wasn't swamped in members of the Weasley clan. There was only one car in the driveway, a gray Sedan. No minivans.

Draco knocked sharply on the door. He focused all his attention on listening for the inhabitants to come and answer, rather than wondering what was so amiss here.

The door swung open. A tall, thin, rather bald man whose gray hair was laced with the faintest suggestion of red. Arthur Weasley, Draco's memory told him.

"Yes?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy, sir," said Draco, extending a hand. "Friend of Virginia's."

Arthur accepted the hand and gave it a firm shake. "I thought I recognized you. What can I do for you?"

"This might sound really weird, but…" Draco chewed on his lip for a moment, decided to go ahead and say it, and finished, "I'd like to take a look at the cemetery plot."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "The family cemetery? What ever for?"

"I need to check something." That was partially true, but it wasn't the half of it. Draco crossed his fingers in his pocket and hoped that the old man would give him permission. He didn't want to get nailed for trespassing, after all.

"I suppose so," said Arthur slowly. "You're not going to dig anything up, are you?" he asked jokingly.

"You caught me," said Draco in mock disappointment. "Oh well."

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "Yes, you can go take a look. Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

"It's Arthur."

"Thanks, Arthur," said Draco obligingly. "It won't take long." He turned and jogged down the porch steps, then turned and began to head around behind the house, quite conscious that Arthur was silently watching him for the doorway.

Draco really hoped he was right about this, because if he wasn't then they would be in some deep kim-chi. And he wouldn't know where else to look, nor who to ask. If Virginia hadn't told him anything, he seriously doubted she'd told anyone else.

The Weasley house was essentially in the middle of nowhere, on a large plot of land that was mostly ancient forest. But back into the woods, just out of sight of the house, was a modest clearing.

This was the Weasley family cemetery. Every Weasley from eighteen forty-two on was buried here, along with a few in-laws. All told, there were about thirty or so graves. Not all of the Weasleys had such large families as the current clan.

In the center of the little graveyard were two weeping willows, one enormous, its branches reaching down to the ground and drifting gently in a mild breeze. The other was a great deal smaller and off to one side, looking like a child trying to find comfort in its mother's presence. The trees stood before a small granite tombstone, carved with the epitaph of a little girl.

"Virginia? Where'd you-"

Draco cut himself off as he stepped into a small clearing, scattered with grave markers. Two weeping willows stood in the center, towering as if sentinels over a single green granite headstone.

Virginia was kneeling before the marker, eyes distant. Draco approached as quietly as possible, both wanting to find out what was going on and keep from disturbing her.

It didn't work. Virginia looked up, a sad smile flickering across her freckled features.

"Hi."

"Hello, yourself," Draco replied, quickly crossing the distance between them. "Fred's looking for you, something about socks. What're you doing out here?"

Virginia shrugged and stood, brushing off her clothes. "I wanted to visit Aurora."

"Huh?"

She gestured to the headstone. Draco could see the inscription, now that Virginia wasn't in the way.

'Aurora Elizabeth Weasley, born June 16 1975, died February 21 1984. A light in the dark of night.'

"Who was she?" asked Draco, absently noting she had the same birthday as Virginia.

"My fraternal twin," said Virginia, brushing her fingers across the tombstone's polished surface. "We were in a car crash. No one likes to talk about her, it hurts too much."

"Oh," said Draco lamely, knowing that any apologies or anything else of the sort were just words, and that he really didn't understand how Virginia felt about it.

"I like to come here, to think, I guess," said Virginia. She took a deep breath and looked up at Draco. "What was it Fred needed?"

"The only person she trusted more than me," said Draco with a mirthless smile. "Talked to her much recently, Rory?"

His only answer was the sharp cry of a bird, somewhere in the trees. Draco sighed and turned away from the marker, giving the two willows his full attention. Maybe…

He bent and examined the roots. The larger one's root system was a crazy tangle, arching up over the ground before vanishing again. Grass surrounded it, too much and too healthy for a three-month growth.

He looked at the smaller tree. The grass was shorter, the pale green of plants not quite established. The ground was rougher than it should have been.

"Let's see…" Draco murmured, digging with his hands, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring a spade. He'd be a royal mess before he left.

Eight inches and a lot of cursing later, he hit a blue plastic object. It took a few more minutes to completely uncover it and bring it out, then shove all the dirt back where it belonged and made the ground look semi-normal.

The box was a blue plastic shoebox, completely opaque. The name 'Ginny' was scrawled over the lid in Virginia's distinctive chicken-scratch handwriting. That in and of itself was weird, only her brother Fred and her parents ever called her Ginny. He'd called her Ginny only once and had been thoroughly harangued for it. Apparently whoever called her that had better be either a very close relation or be a lot bigger than her and have at least three black belts, because otherwise they were dog meat.

He didn't open it; he wanted to be nice and safe in his own apartment before he did that. And besides, he didn't want one of the Weasleys to walk up and demand what he was doing, digging through their family cemetery plot.

Draco stood, tucking the little box under his arm, and strode quickly out of the cemetery. This place was starting to creep him out just slightly.

He soon left the woods, reached the street, and was just climbing into his Jeep when he suddenly realized what was so wrong with the old house.

Virginia wasn't here. Every time he'd ever come, she'd been waiting on the bench-swing on the enormous front porch, swinging gently, her auburn hair flying every which way, head bent as she pored over something. Then she'd look up, grin, drop her book and run down the steps, scolding him for being late.

Draco shook his head as he climbed into the Jeep. He really was going crazy. Since when was he so wound up over Virginia, in a way other than him trying to get her out of trouble? And no, he didn't want that question answered.

Draco shut his car door and fished the keys from his pocket, silently telling himself that no matter what happened, he'd find Virginia and bring her home.

No matter what.

A/N- Okay everyone, I know you're dying to know what the heck's in those blasted records and why I can't just tell you, but be patient. It'll be an interesting plot point later on, believe me. Also, major thank-yous to everyone whose reviewed so far, and I hope I can get more. ::hint hint:: Hey, can anyone guess who the rat in the department is? And who thinks they know what the big secret about Riddle's organization is? Whoever guesses right for either one gets a cameo. I know, it's a cheap ploy for more reviews, but hey, maybe you all will get a kick out of it.