Title: The Rebirth – Epilogue Part Three

Author name: Irina
Author email: [email protected]

Category: drama, romance
Keywords: Ginny, destiny, angst, romance, drama
Spoilers: All four books
Rating: R

Summary: So why did Voldemort try to kill Harry? An ancient power has reawakened and the answers to all the mysteries lie with Ginny Weasley.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Danette and DRI are the betas. They're extremely cool. Yay, Danette and DRI! Thanks to all my muses at the HP Pendragon yahoo group. I'd love you see you there – groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon is the place to be!

Epilogue Part Three

Year Five—2001

January:

The heat in the tunnel was overpowering. Ginny dripped with sweat and stumbled forward, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. They'd had intelligence that said the Lestranges had been sighted near their old mansion, now derelict. A raid was planned, and the former Azkaban inmates had fled into the catacombs below the house, three Auror teams in hot pursuit.

Once underground, though, the tide had turned. Death Eaters poured from every cavern and side tunnel, surrounding them, cutting off any escape route. The combatants' sides were now evenly matched in number and skill. Curses and hexes buzzed through the air; shouts echoed and bounced off the slimy stone walls.

Ginny didn't have time to think. She operated on instinct; moving, dodging, shooting in a kind of martial trance. There was nothing but the heat and noise and salty sweat getting in her eyes and trickling down her back. Ginny's arm began to cramp from gripping her wand so tightly, a dull, tight ache. Her throat was scratchy and hoarse, but she couldn't stop yelling, not for a single moment. The constant barrage of spells that flew from her wand was the only thing standing between her and death. Or worse, captivity.

So she dueled on, dodging and blocking curses, sometimes against as many as three Death Eaters at once. Each time a dueling opponent fell, another stepped in to take his place.

But Ginny was fighting another battle, and losing meant consequences even graver and more terrible than surrendering to the Dark Wizards. Her silver power roared and shrieked through her, demanded to be let out, strained and clawed and howled against the barrier of her willpower. It pushed to be set free, hungered to cover her enemies, to show what happens to those who stand against the Pendragon. If these people learned who Ginny really was, it would put her family in even more danger than if they learned she was Agent Jezebel. So Ginny grimly pressed on, fighting them and fighting herself. There was no other option.

The lights from flying spells reflected off the Death Eaters' silver masks. Red, green, blue, orange, they chased through the air in ever transmuting colors and patterns. The Death Eaters were losing. The Aurors were too well trained; these teams were almost exclusively combat veterans, people who fought fiercely and gave no quarter. At a signal from the Lestranges, the unwounded Dark Wizards disapparated.

The catacombs were heavy with silence. The Aurors still standing all stared at each other, shocked at how suddenly the conflict had ended. Ginny was the first to shake herself out of it. She coughed to clear her dry throat and stepped over a Death Eater who lay prone on the floor, bending down to snap his wand in two. The crack of the breaking wood shook the other Aurors out of their stupor, and they started standard cleanup procedures, quietly moving from body to body, using incarceration Portkeys on the stupefied Death Eaters and triaging the wounded prisoners for treatment back at the division. As Ginny straightened, a sudden movement close to the ground caught her eye.

One of the fallen Death Eaters, a woman covered in blood and obviously not long for this world, was still conscious. Her hand inched slowly toward her wand, and then she raised it from the ground and pointed it directly at Osiris's back.

Ginny's throat worked, but no sound came out. She hurled herself at her fellow team leader, slamming into his chest just as a green light flashed and a terrible wind rushed through the catacombs, ruffling the Aurors' hair and sweeping away the life of one of their own. Ginny hadn't been fast enough. She knew he was dead before they hit the ground.

She came down on top of Osiris's limp body and raised her head, eyes locking with those of the Death Eater across the stone floor. The Dark Witch grinned demonically. The Auror looked stunned. They held each other's gazes for only a moment before men swarmed around the Death Eater, taking her wand from her now lax fingers and snapping it, stunning her with unnecessary force, transporting her to a secure holding cell. At the same time, rough hands grabbed the back of Ginny's clothes and hauled her off the dead man and to her feet. It was Harry, eyes blazing with fury more intense than any emotion she'd seen from him in years. Are you insane? Throwing yourself in the way of the killing curse? he yelled in her mind, gripping her upper arms so she couldn't move away.

Much good it did, she answered, feeling very cold despite the heat in the tunnel. Her head ached from his shouts.

How could you have been so careless?

I'm never careless. Reckless? Often. Careless? Never, she corrected, prying his fingers loose and backing out of his reach. It's in my blood. I come from a long line of Gryffindors.

She turned away, but he swung her back around. Don't you dare use Gryffindor House as an excuse. You're not immortal. Do you have any idea what could've happened to you?

He's a team leader, Harry! I couldn't just stand there and watch—

You can't just throw yourself in the way of an Avada Kadavra, Ginny!

I didn't throw myself in the way, she said, disgruntled. I just tried to knock him—

You can't waste yourself on stupid, daredevil heroics! You have—

"Stop!" she shouted aloud, jerking away. The other Aurors all turned from Osiris's body to look at the pair. "Get on with it," Ginny snapped at them. Then, to Harry, she said, You would've done the same thing. It was instinct. He's a team leader. Her raw throat felt tight; gods, she hoped she wouldn't cry. She had a reputation to uphold. I'm so sorry if I risked the precious Pendragon powers that you and Dumbledore are so hung up on, but—

Is that what you think? he asked sharply. Do you know what it did to me, watching you throw yourself at that green light? Do you have any idea what…my parents were… He was so upset he couldn't even speak.

Ginny felt immediately guilty; he hadn't been angry that she'd risked the Pendragon, but that she'd risked herself. Gods, when would she learn that she couldn't jump to conclusions with this man? She always assumed the worst. Once again she felt like she was going to cry, but shored up her resolve and tamped the emotion down.

Aloud, she said to Harry. "Take care of your team. You were his second, so you're in charge for now. I imagine Catherine will want to talk to you when we get back." For once, she wasn't the one who would get promoted on the back of somebody's death.

* * * * *

Ginny sat back in her chair and sighed. Beneath their smiles, her fellow team leaders looked no less dissatisfied than she felt. The funeral had been that morning; killed in the line of duty, an Avada Kadavra in the back, Order of Merlin Second Class. Meaningless words. When they finally caught the mole, he was going to wish he'd never been born. All of their attempts at internal investigation were thwarted—Voldemort via Fudge had seen to that. Catherine was at her wits' end and there was nothing for the Aurors to do but mourn, and then come back to work the next day and keep going. After the service the team leaders had adjourned to a dimly lit Muggle pub and, in the tradition of funerals, memorialized their fallen comrade with remember whens and tales of embellished humor.

Harry sat beside her; he had been Osiris's second, his right hand man. Now Catherine had put him in charge of the team. He was uncomfortable in their company; the other team leaders regarded him with a veiled resentment, as the man who profited from their friend's death. Ginny knew she should attempt to draw him into the conversation and make him feel included, one of them, but she just didn't have the energy.

Ginny was tired. Tired of her friends, people she cared about, dying all around her. Tired of fighting and losing battle after battle as a soldier in a war that wasn't her choice. Tired of lying to her family. Tired of keeping the silver inferno under control, well contained and hidden. It all grew harder every day, until she wanted to scream in anger and frustration. But she stayed in line, did her job without complaint, and went about her life. The fact that you're the Pendragon is not to go beyond this room. Dumbledore had impressed how important it was that her identity stay secret, and secret it would remain.

The air in the pub was hazy with cigarette smoke, a stench that would cling to her clothes and hair through several washings. Most of the Aurors had fags drooping from their lips. Ginny desperately wanted one as well, to feel the calming rush of nicotine through her lungs and into her blood. But not here. Never in front of Harry. It was only an occasional habit, only when she was at the end of her mental rope. The dirty tar in the smoke, the acrid smell, the deliciously seedy feeling of snatching a secret fag in an alley was an outward manifestation of something inside of her, the weakness—that she wasn't superhuman; that sometimes she needed a drug to calm her nerves and focus her mind. This belonged to her and no one else.

The loud talk and false jocularity died down; smiles slipped away to unmask their ring of discontent. They sat silently, listlessly, communicating without speech. They'd find the ones responsible. There was nothing else to do, no need to waste words on pledges and vows. These were people of action, the best of the best in the Auror division.

Ginny tossed back the last of her drink and slid her chair back, feeling slightly unsteady through the numbing fog in her mind. "Order me another, would you?" she asked, picking her purse up from the floor.

"Another one?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Don't listen to him," another Auror said. "What're you having, then?"

"Vodka," Ginny replied, shooting Harry a glance that was both annoyed and smug.

"On the rocks?"

"Neat," she corrected. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm off to the powder room."

As the Auror flagged down a passing waiter and placed Ginny's order, Harry watched her walk across the pub. She moved in the controlled, deliberate way of someone who has had slightly too much to drink and knows it, but hopes that no one else will notice.

He sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching his new coworkers, feeling like an unwelcome intruder. Harry lifted his mug to drain the last of his beer, and every mental siren he possessed went off. The glass crashed to the ground, and he was up and running to the back of the pub. She was in danger.

The Aurors watched him go. "What do you suppose his problem is?"

Another snorted derisively. "Git probably can't hold his liquor. I haven't the faintest idea what Ginny sees in him. He has a famous name, and he thinks it means he can be an Auror. Twitchy rich boy."

And slowly they resumed their conversation.

* * * * *

Ginny located the door that opened into a back alley, a narrow hallway of brick, and went outside, stumbling slightly on the downward step. It was late afternoon, cold and dusk. She hated the winter. What a miserable time of year. Ginny kept her eyes fixed on the ground as insurance against a fall and lit a fag. She shut her eyes at the first drag, wishing that the day were over so she could go home and crawl into bed.

As she lowered the cigarette from her mouth, someone grabbed her from behind.

A powerful arm snaked around her waist, pinning her elbows against her sides. A large hand closed over her mouth, and she was pulled backwards; her back slammed into a very muscular chest. She tensed; the vodka cloud that dulled her mind evaporated as her thoughts and senses focused to a razor sharp edge. "Come with us quietly and you won't be hurt," the man rasped, hot breath on her ear.

Ginny nodded frantically. He felt her tremble, and thought it was from fear rather than the cold. It was just the opening she'd been looking for.

Bending her arm at the elbow, Ginny swung her cigarette up and stubbed it into the man's wrist, holding it there. He cried out at the burn and his grasp of her relaxed just enough for her to wrench free and whirl around. Before he knew what happened, she'd let loose two well-aimed punches—one to the nose, his blood spurted down the front of his shirt; the other to his chin in the same maneuver she'd used on Agent Bloom all those years ago. Her regular sword bouts with Mórrígan had made her strong. His jaw snapped as she knocked him right off his feet. He landed in the snow, but she didn't have time to gloat over him as she was once again grabbed from behind.

Ginny swayed to the side, gaining enough purchase to drive an elbow into the solar plexus of her attacker. As his hold loosened she launched herself at a third, driving his head into the brick wall of the building. There was a loud crack, and he slumped into the dirty snow. She whirled around, facing the remaining three. They all leapt on her at once. She bit and clawed, scratched and punched and kicked. The alcohol slowed her reactions, just enough to give them an opening. One rolled on top of her, pinning her to the black, slushy pavement with his weight. She drove her knee into his groin, the move she's used on Seamus countless times. When he doubled up in pain, she rolled from beneath him and faced the last two.

Ginny was cold and wet, and breathing hard. She faced them from across the alley and waited. She wasn't kept long. One of them threw himself at her, lifting her right off her feet and pinning her against the back of the pub. Her body crushed against the rough brick and knocked the wind out of her. Hauling in a deep breath, Ginny slammed her palms against the side of his head, as hard and fast as she could. His eardrums burst, and the agonizing explosion of pain dropped him to the ground. She stumbled as he released her, but quickly regained her footing and, bloody hands raised to attack, whirled to face the fifth and last attacker.

She found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. A Muggle gun. She froze. "That's right," he said. "You'll come with me now."

She swallowed her fear and her mind raced, running through possible scenarios. She tensed, ready to launch herself at him, and he released the safety. "Don't move."

She didn't.

The man she'd disabled with a knee to the groin had recovered sufficiently enough to stand and close his arms around her from behind. "If you fight us, I swear you'll wish we'd killed you," he rasped, his breath still coming in gasps. Ginny couldn't look away from the gun.

A shout rent the air, and the one holding her released his grasp enough to look over his shoulder. His arms loosened, and he slumped to the ground. Ginny took advantage of the distraction and threw a well-aimed kick at the man with the gun. The weapon flew out of his hand and she jumped on top of him, driving her elbow down onto his collarbone, snapping it in two. The pain dropped him.

Ginny dragged herself to her feet and looked up, pushing damp strings of hair out of her eyes. Harry stood in the doorway, very white, wand drawn. "You shot him in the back," she managed to say.

"His friend had a gun to your head," he countered, looking at the bodies that littered the alley. "He's only stunned; I didn't kill him. What happened? Are you all right?"

Ginny began to shiver. She was wet to the skin from rolling around in the slush and snow, and the January wind cut right through her, chilling her bones. "They jumped me," she managed to say through chattering teeth.

Harry stepped over the prone body of the stupefied man and shrugged out of his suit coat, gently settling it around her shoulders. It hung nearly to her knees. Ginny's shivering intensified, and he ran his hands up and down her arms, bringing back memories of another time, years ago, when Mórrígan dropped her in the lake and Harry gave her the cloak off his back to make her warm again. "It looks like you handled yourself well," he said. "You got four of them."

"Still, if you hadn't shown up—"

He shook his head. "I was just a little bit of help. It's what I'm here for."

She was shaking in earnest now, not entirely from the cold, and looked at the men on the ground. "Who are they, do you think?"

"Did they use magic on you?"

She shook her head.

"Then they're probably just Muggles who were after your purse."

"They didn't ask for my wallet, or my watch," she told him.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Then they were probably after a great deal more than your money."

"Should we call the police?"

He thought about that. "If we did, you'd have to explain how it is that you caused this much damage, all by yourself. I think what's just happened will make them think twice about attacking someone again." Harry ran his hands over her arms once more, and then folded her into a quick embrace, not caring that she was filthy and wet. "Gods, Gin, am I glad you're all right!" he murmured in her ear. "Can I take you home? You could clean up and then get into bed." He tipped her chin up and said, "We can order takeaway. Anything you want."

It sounded heavenly. "What about the others?"

"Never mind about them. You can make your excuses tomorrow at work."

Ginny nodded. "Thanks."

Harry closed his hand around hers. He never wanted to feel that way again, the terrible fury and heart-stopping fear that had closed around his soul when he saw her with a gun to her head. Together, they disapparated.

Once they were gone, the alley was silent and deserted; the five men lay still, three unconscious, two awake but in a great deal of pain. As the minutes ticked by, the attackers' appearances dissolved, their skin and features melting away to reveal their true faces. The one with the broken collarbone groaned; he was in agony. The pain of his injury combined with the torment of Polyjuice was too much to bear. He blacked out.

Several popping noises echoed off the brick walls. A small group of Death Eaters apparated and took the scene in at a glance. Shannon immediately ran to Blaise's side. "What happened? Are you all right?" In the dim light, she could see smears of blood on the pavement and in the snow. She didn't think any of it had come from Blaise, but checked him for wounds just to be sure. When she jostled his shoulder against the cement, the fireworks of pain shocked him out of his faint. "Stop!" he ground out through clenched teeth. "She broke my collarbone."

"Oh, gods! Really?" Shannon asked. She knew Ginny needed to be apprehended soon, but couldn't help but feel a niggling sense of pride in her friend. "Delia, come here quickly."

Delia jogged over and crouched down, sizing Blaise up. She aimed her wand and said, "Sano," a spell to knit broken bones. Delia had a talent for medical magic.

Blaise sat up and rubbed his shoulder. The arm was still a bit stiff, and would be for a few weeks. Delia had moved on, helping Draco and Pansy check the other Death Eaters. "We have a broken nose and jaw over here," she volunteered, performing another healing spell.

Pansy sucked in a breath at the man who'd had his head bashed against the wall. "He'll have a terrible concussion, if not an outright skull fracture," she announced. "We'd better have a mediwizard take a look at him."

Draco lit his wand to get a better look at the fighter who lay crumpled nearby, dried blood, a dark, crusty brown-red, caked on his ears and neck. "Good god," he said, lip curling in distaste. "I told you not to forget that she's a Gryffindor. If you'd listened to me and not tried to use magic on her, chivalry would've prevented her from doing the same and you all would've been spared a lot of pain."

Blaise pushed his curly hair out of his eyes. "We didn't use magic. And neither did she. This was all done the old fashioned way."

"You've got to be kidding," Shannon said as she helped Blaise to his feet. Apparently Auror training had taught Ginny a thing or two.

Blaise slid one arm around Shannon's shoulders and gestured with his other to the man who lay on his side, unconscious. "Except for Nome. Potter came out and stunned him just as I'd gained the upper hand."

Pansy bent down to revive the Death Eater as Draco gave Delia a sharp look. "You never said Potter was here too."

"That's because I didn't know," she snapped. "I can sense Ginny and that's all. With her amount of power, it would be hard not to be aware of her. But Potter? How in the name of the goddess am I supposed to keep track of him? I'm not psychic."

"Leave her alone, Draco," Pansy said, helping Nome to his feet. "There's no way she could've known."

Draco nodded reluctantly. Backing down from a confrontation with a Silvermoon was still a new experience for him. "Next try, we'll take our time and plan it carefully. We can't rush things; I see that now." He gestured to the two still-unconscious Death Eaters. "Let's take them by Portkey. We'll have someone out to the Manor to look after them right away, and then we'll work out a better plan."

Blaise nodded in agreement, and then pointed to the ground near Draco's feet. "Hand me the gun, will you?"

Draco picked it up with his thumb and index finger, handling it as thought it were something he found absolutely repulsive.

"Don't look like that," Blaise ordered, taking the weapon from his friend and reengaging the safety. "This is what very nearly turned the tide in our favor."

"Fun as it is, standing out here in a cold alley talking about guns, these men really need a doctor," Delia cut in.

Draco gave a curt nod. She was absolutely right. He reached his gloved hand into his cloak pocket and fished out their emergency Portkeys, a handful of small buttons. He sorted out two of them and pressed them to his still-unconscious followers. They vanished directly to beds in his wing of the Manor. Then he raised his hand in signal to the rest of the Death Eaters, and they all disapparated.

* * * * *

February

Someone knocked on the door to her flat. Ginny padded over, bowl of popcorn in one hand, bottle of water in the other. With some juggling, she finally managed to turn the handle. It was Mike.

"Hi," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "What are you doing here so early on a Saturday? It's only noon; you shouldn't even be awake for another two or three hours at least."

"Has anyone ever told you that you've an endless supply of wit and charm?" he asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

Ginny grinned. "No."

"That's because it would be a lie. How have you been, Gin? I've hardly seen you these past few months, because of the wedding and all. It went beautifully, by the way."

"No thanks to you and the twins," she said, walking into the living room. Mike followed, weaving in between the piles of books that lay on the floor. Ginny didn't have nearly enough shelf space. He moved a stack of paperbacks out of the way and dropped beside her on the sofa as she continued, "Don't think I don't know that you were the ones who put shrinking solution on the cake so no one would be able to find it."

"Yeah," Mike acknowledged, propping his feet on her coffee table. "As long as you don't tell Harry we did it. Speaking of, there's something creepy about that guy. Can you believe he just happened to have the antidote in his bag?"

Ginny slapped Mike's leg impatiently, and he moved his shoes from the table with a wink, snatching another handful of popcorn. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd had antidotes for everything in that bag. He was determined to prepare for every emergency," she said.

"So what are we doing today?" Mike asked, settling back and giving her an expectant look.

"I'm going to watch a movie," Ginny answered. "What do people usually do when they make popcorn?"

"A movie? How?"

She pointed to her new television and video player. "My dad gave it to me for Christmas."

In the blink of an eye, Mike was off the sofa and kneeling in front of the electronics. "Is it real?" he asked reverently. "I mean, does it work?"

"Of course it works. My dad wouldn't give me a broken one, would he?"

"How then?" Mike asked, crawling around to examine where the plug fit into the outlet.

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm not exactly sure. You must put the video in that big slot thing, but I don't know how to make it go."

"Well, you want to watch the video forward, right?" Mike asked, inspecting the buttons on the front of the machine. "So fast forward is probably what you'd push. No, wait." He took a closer look. "It's a recorded video, so you'd probably push record."

Ginny got off the sofa and dropped to her knees beside him. "I don't know. The buttons all look the same to me. Ria should be here any minute; she was going to show me how."

"Is she staying?" Mike liked Ria very much; she was a good sport, and knew a lot about Muggles.

"She is," Ginny confirmed, "Hermione and Andrew Shepherd are coming too."

"A party!" Mike exclaimed. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"I'm here because I thought I'd stop by and waste some of your time. I didn't get an invitation. If you're not careful, I might cry about it." He tried hard to look stern, but utterly failed.

"I tried ringing you last night, but there was no answer," Ginny explained.

He grinned. "That's because I was on a date."

She grinned back. "A good date?"

"A wonderful date," he confirmed conspiratorially.

"Anyone I know?"

"Yes, actually. It was—"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Ginny jumped to her feet. "That'll be Ria. Or maybe Hermione."

"Or maybe Andrew," Mike said slyly as she walked out of the room. As Ginny passed the sofa, she picked a throw pillow off the end and tossed it at him, then ran to answer the door.

It was Ria. She took one look at the video configuration and laughed. "Gin, you've done it all wrong. Give me a few minutes." She started shifting wires and plugs, the job made more complicated by Mike hanging over her shoulder and firing questions about Muggle electronics just as quickly as Ria could answer them.

Andrew and Hermione arrived together. "We met in the lift," he explained, dropping a kiss on Ginny's cheek as he entered her flat. Hermione arched an eyebrow, and Ginny gave her a sharply quelling look. It was the sort of face Professor McGonagall would've made and, as such, was completely wasted on her sister-in-law.

Ria finally figured out how to hook up the electronics and then explained how to use them. She had to go through the directions several times, and Ginny took careful notes in case she ever felt the urge to watch a video when no one was around to work the machine. It all seemed very complicated.

Once the video was in, the five friends settled down to watch. There was a man who found out that he lived in a computer…Ginny didn't know anything about computers, so that part didn't make much sense. But he was pulled out of the computer, and then went back in to fight the villains, middle aged men in black suits. Ginny didn't think they looked very tough. She kept having to pause the movie so that Hermione and Ria could explain about robots and machines and matrixes…the Muggle born members of the audience had no trouble following the film. Mike, Andrew, and Ginny, however, were lost. Ginny couldn't understand how the actors could jump up in the air and hover or dodge bullets so fast that they barely got nicked. This led to another lecture on special effects, green screens, and animation. Ginny felt like she was back at school, instead of relaxing on a Saturday afternoon. All in all, when someone knocked on her door she was glad to excuse herself to answer it.

"Shall we pause and wait for you to come back?"

In the background, the characters were having an urgent conversation about déjà vu. "No, that's all right," Ginny called over her shoulder. She pulled open the door and her eyes widened in surprise. It was Harry. "What are you doing here?" she asked, then realized that she sounded rude. "I mean, is everything okay?"

He shrugged. "I just wanted someone to talk to."

Ginny stepped aside and let him in. "What about?"

He looked at the floor, then at the walls, anywhere but at her. "Rhiannon and I broke up."

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. She wasn't sorry. "Is that why you're here? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry sighed. "It's just…I'd go to Ron's, normally. But he's newly married, and it's kind of weird talking about the end of a relationship when he and Hermione are…"

A relationship? How much had he cared for this girl, for goddess's sake? And it wasn't any less weird for him to talk about it with Ginny? Not even a month ago, he'd left Rhiannon to sleep on the sofa at the Burrow. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, not a fight."

"What happened, then?"

He looked exasperated. "She said there was someone else."

"I'm sorry," she said again, silently thanking Rhiannon's someone else, wherever he may be. "Are you very heartbroken?"

At that, he gave her a small smile. "Nah. My ego is a little bruised. That's all." There was a loud noise from the living room, and he frowned. "Are you busy?"

"I just have a few people over to use my new video player," she said. "But I don't really understand the movie, so it's just as well. Do you want to go into the kitchen or something and—"

"Hey, Gin," Mike said, wandering out into the entryway. "We've run out of popcorn. I'll just make some more, shall I? Oh," he smiled, but his tone was anything but welcoming, "hello, Potter. What brings you here?"

Harry stiffened, his reaction to Mike automatic after so many years. Ginny immediately moved to diffuse the situation. "Harry's just stopped by to talk is all. Could you tell them not to hold the movie for me?"

Mike nodded sympathetically. "Your girlfriend dumped you, did she?" He was trying very hard not to laugh.

Ginny looked from Harry to Mike and back again. The epiphany came very suddenly. Mike had been on a wonderful date the night before, and now Harry was looking at him as though he'd like nothing better than to make Mike choke on his own teeth. "What the hell did you do?" she demanded of her friend.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I showed a nice girl a good time. Is it my fault she prefers my company to his?"

"Of all the childish…this is, what, the third time you've stolen his girlfriend?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ginny realized that it was probably not the most sensitive thing to say in front of Harry. Still, she couldn't forget that just a few seconds earlier she had thanked Mike with ever fiber of her being.

"Fourth," her protector ground out.

Mike grinned. "I don't think we can really count Cait, can we? You'd only been out with her twice. What's the problem, Potter? It's not like you actually care about any of these people."

Harry growled. Actually growled. "That's not the point. You do it to piss me off, and now it's worked. You're the biggest asshole I've ever met and I can't understand why—"

"Because you have a sense of entitlement the size of Hogwarts," Mike interrupted, taking a step closer. "It's my privilege to take you down a few notches now and then. The whole world doesn't revolve around Harry Potter, even if you're famous for something you don't even remember!"

"Shut up," Ginny said sharply, stepping between them.

"I did her a favor," Mike said over her. "You weren't fair to her, or to any of the others. Nobody wants to be with someone who's in love with another person."

Ginny froze. Mike had gone too far.

Harry gave a nasty smile. "You know this from first hand experience, do you? When it was Ginny, you didn't seem to mind."

Whatever line Mike had crossed, Harry had just left it far behind. "Get out," she said in a low voice.

Harry looked startled, as though he'd forgotten she was even there. "Me?"

"One of you. I don't care which. But if you can't be polite to each other when you're in my home, then…just leave."

Mike said, "I was here first."

"I don't care!" she yelled. "I don't want to see either of you right now, but I can't trust you to ride down together in the lift, so one of you get the hell out. I will not be dragged into the middle of your stupid feud!"

At her shouts, the three guests still in the living room came running out. "Is everything okay?" Andrew asked, sizing up the situation in a glance.

Hermione smiled when she saw Harry, but the thunderous look on his face made her pause. Ria rolled her eyes and asked, "You two are still at each other's throats, then? Just go somewhere, beat the hell out of each other, get it out of your systems, and then see if you can't at least be civil. This whole thing was fine when you were sixteen, but it's getting boring."

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry said, eyes narrowed. "Especially the beating part."

"He's an Auror. I wouldn't stand a chance," Mike said, his voice no less cold.

"Should've thought of that before, shouldn't you?" Harry shot back.

"What's going on here?" Hermione asked, eyes flicking from one man to the other.

"Rhiannon broke up with Harry last night," Mike explained. "And now he's putting the blame on me, when anyone with half a brain would've been able to tell that there's no way the relationship was going anywhere. And Rhiannon's entire brain is perfectly functional."

The full head of righteous anger Harry had built up deflated a bit at Mike's statement. Gods, he hated to admit it to himself, but Mike had a point. The relationship wasn't going to go anywhere; Harry was in love with someone else. And Rhiannon was smart; she would've been able to tell. But still, it was the principle of the thing. "You can't just go around stealing other people's girlfriends, Fletcher."

"Can't I?" he asked, an amusement once again tingeing his expression. "Because I haven't had any trouble so far."

"That's enough," Hermione declared. "Harry, come on. I'm hungry. Let's go somewhere to eat."

"But—"

"Come on," she said, grabbing his arm and tugging him closer to the door. "We're leaving. Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Gin. I'll tell Ron you said hello." And then the door closed behind them.

The remaining four looked at each other for an uncomfortable beat. Mike said, "I should go too." Ginny looked at him but didn't reply. He cleared his throat nervously, then moved over to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Before he pulled back, he whispered in her ear, "I really am sorry about that. I never should've fought with him here." Then he smiled mischievously. "And don't worry about the lift. I'll take the stairs."

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He sighed, waved to Ria and Andrew, then was gone.

"Well," Ria said brightly, "this isn't awkward at all, is it?"

Ginny gave a small smile. "I'm sorry about those two. I never would've—"

"It's okay," Andrew cut in. "You don't have to explain. Shall we finish the movie, do you think?"

Ria rolled her eyes. "Why bother? You two have no idea what's going on. You should've taken Muggle studies. It's all right. I brought a backup video."

"What's it called?" Ginny asked, beginning to perk up.

"Elizabeth."

"It's not a love story, is it? Because I'm not too sold on love at the moment."

"Um…no. It's about Queen Elizabeth. Hence the name. No special effects to explain or American accents to decipher. And it's a good story."

Andrew shrugged. "I'll give it a try if you will," he said to Ginny.

"Just let me make some more popcorn," she replied, heading into the kitchen. She needed to be alone. Ria and Andrew didn't say a word when Ginny didn't come out for twenty minutes.

* * * * *

Ginny downed the beaker of thick, rubbery liquid. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Around her, the other members of her team screwed up their faces in similar reactions. It was disgusting, yes, but a necessary safeguard. Wizards moved among them, casting all manner of protective spells on the field agents. Another sacrifice had been reported and, as Ginny's team had become rather adept at cleanup, they'd been tagged to do it. The magic surrounding the area was always quite toxic; every precaution had to be taken.

At Ginny's signal, the team disapparated.

They apparated to a clearing not far from the site. Ginny felt the sticky blackness of the dark power pervading the area. These things always seemed to affect her more than the other Aurors. She felt nauseous, was nearly knocked off her feet by the stench of the evil that had taken place in this forest. Her power pushed to get free; she held it in.

The Aurors looked at her expectantly. "This way," Ginny directed, walking straight into the darkness that only she could see. Her steps only faltered once, when the victim was finally in sight. She steeled her nerve and pressed on, trying not to think of the last, horrible moments of this person's life or the disgusting sadism of the people who had done this to her. "Don't touch anything," she ordered.

Agent Zalba, her second in command, stood close by and watched the other eight Aurors pace outside the circle of blood, photographing and measuring every aspect of the scene. The careful collection of evidence for trial would be important if they ever caught the person responsible for this barbarism.

One of the Aurors gave a low cry. "What is it?" Ginny called, not wanting to get any closer. The clearing felt airless; she thought she might pass out at any moment.

"It's Professor Vector," the agent said as she backed away, the entire thing made more horrible by the fact that it had happened to someone she knew. "They got a Hogwarts professor."

* * * * *

March

Ginny lay on her side in a pool of silver blood. Another minute and she'd be dead. She couldn't get very worked up about this—at least death would make it stop hurting. The Mórrígan waited until the last possible moment to wave the Otherworldly doctor over; the woman poured her magic serum onto the gaping holes in Ginny's chest and shoulder, and in the blink of an eye the Pendragon was good as new. She pushed herself into a sitting position, her hand squelching in the dirt made muddy by her blood. "Ew," she muttered under her breath, wiping her palms on the front of her shirt.

"You are pathetic," the goddess spat. Ginny didn't have the heart to argue.

The camp had settled down for the evening. Golden light spilled from open tent flaps, and the stars, arranged in constellations Ginny didn't recognize, had begun to dot the dark purple canopy of the sky. Somehow, that made her lonesome. She wished there were someone else from her world here, to keep her company. Ginny was always very conscious of the fact that she was different from everyone else in the goddess's camp.

Mórrígan watched Ginny retrieve her sword and then said, "Tatiana will show you to your tent and give you some clean clothes."

"I beg your pardon?" Ginny asked, trying to imitate the goddess's imperious tone but failing miserably. She was still a bit dizzy from blood loss. "Tent? You're not sending me back?"

Mórrígan sheathed her sword and turned her back to Ginny, walking away without a word. Ignoring the soldier waiting to show her the way, Ginny took off after the goddess. "You're not sending me back?" she repeated.

Mórrígan kept walking, her strides so long Ginny had to jog to keep up. "No."

"Wait!" Ginny reached out and grabbed the goddess's arm. "What the hell do you mean, no?"

Mórrígan looked from Ginny's hand back to her face. Ginny dropped her grip and took a step back, but didn't apologize or look away. "You'll stay for a while," the goddess said. "Another attack is coming; we need you here more than you're needed on Earth."

"The attack might not come for days. Will I lose any time? I mean, will I be asleep for however long you keep me here?"

"No." The goddess disappeared into her pavilion without sparing the Pendragon so much as a glance.

Ginny felt a touch at her elbow; she turned and saw the soldier Mórrígan had called Tatiana. With a sigh, she followed the woman to her sleeping quarters.

Ginny had only been curled up on her small camp bed for an hour when she felt a sudden, sharp heaviness in her chest, as though all the air had been sucked out of the tent. It was the darkness, like the evil she felt at the sacrifice sites…it was coming closer, sweeping through the night toward Mórrígan's camp. She sat up in bed and reached for her practice sword, pulled on some clothes, and ran out into the forest of tents, expecting to see the army preparing to defend itself.

No one else stirred. Gods, could she be the only one who felt it? It was so strong she could barely move, but she forced one foot in front of the other and ran, barefoot, to Mórrígan's pavilion. There was no time for niceties. She barged right in, surprising the goddess who sat in a large chair, polishing one of her many daggers. Mórrígan sized up Ginny's expression in a moment and was off her seat, naked sword in hand. She pushed past the Pendragon and outside. Her terrible voice rang throughout the camp. "They come."

In the blink of an eye, the area swarmed with people. They held their weapons at the ready as they poured from their sleeping quarters, prepared to fight for their Phantom Queen. "We will divide in three," the goddess said. "I will take the center. Macha will take the left, and the Pendragon will take the right."

Macha, Mórrígan's sister and second in command, nodded and turned to the group of soldiers who had separated from the crowd, Ginny wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "I'll what?"

"Flank to the right. Drive them back. Kill as many as you can, but wait for my signal."

She shook her head. "But I can't!"

Mórrígan rounded on her. "You can't? What in my name have I been training you for?" The goddess's eyes blazed red; she was in full battle fury. No mortal would dare challenge her in that state.

Ginny turned to the phalanx of soldiers who stood, awaiting her orders. She nodded to them, shot the goddess one last, wide-eyed look, and then quietly led her people into the night.

Tatiana jogged up and fell into step beside her. "Our Queen wouldn't have put you in charge of an entire flank if she hadn't been absolutely sure that you could handle it." That said, the soldier dropped back once more, leaving Ginny with her thoughts.

The woman had a point. Mórrígan took the safety of her people very seriously. With each step, the Pendragon became more confident that she could do it, that this was something she could handle. If the Mórrígan believed it, who was she to argue? Always before Auror raids, Ginny felt fear strong enough to make her ill, but here and now she was not afraid. There was only anticipation, the sword in her hand, and the cold grass beneath her feet. She wished she'd remembered to wear shoes.

Ginny motioned for her people to spread out. Her thoughts came in startling clarity. She felt the shadow sweeping closer, the evil was nearly on them. But she had to wait for the goddess's signal. She wondered what could be coming, that would make Mórrígan so anxious, but it was nothing more than curiosity. She would find out soon enough.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ginny could make out creeping, writhing forms that inched across the plain. A battle cry rang through the air—it was the Mórrígan, louder than a thousand men, terrible and wild, a yell to drive fear into the heart of anyone who heard it. Something in Ginny thrilled to the sound; she held her sword aloft and imitated the cry as best as she could, the signal for her own people to fall on the enemy.

At the goddess's cry, half the invaders took to their heels and ran for their lives. The rest, braver than their fellows, pressed on. Ginny plunged directly into the fighting. Her sword flew. The power pushed itself to the surface, and for the first time in her life Ginny set it completely free. There was no need to hide who she was; everyone here knew her as the Pendragon.

The incredible rush of strength that accompanied the release of power sent Ginny into a battle fury of her own. She fought wildly, the blade of her sword moving so fast as to be nearly invisible. Her skin shone with the bright magical glow, turning her into a silver pillar of light in the black of the battlefield. The silver fire lashed through the enemy like a shock wave, briefly illuminating their twisted, nightmarish features and their bright red eyes before pushing them back, knocking them to the ground, sending them fleeing from her side, directly into the ones fleeing Macha. They had no choice now but to go up the middle, directly into the Mórrígan, or run away.

Mórrígan herself was the most terrible thing on the field. With each stroke of her sword, five monsters fell. She flew and ran and shrieked, taking cruel, savage delight in the bloodshed. This must be what death looks like, Ginny thought. This terrifying vision of battle frenzy would haunt her dreams for a long time. For all her Otherworldly power, Ginny had never been so conscious of her own mortality as she was watching Mórrígan and her soldiers cut a swath through the invaders.

It wasn't long now before the battle ended. The ones Mórrígan and her people didn't kill were driven away in terror. Ginny lowered her sword and motioned for the soldiers behind her to do the same. She was breathing hard—sucking in gulps of air as she struggled to reign the power in. Perhaps it had been unwise to use so much of it in her first battle.

Soldiers swarmed over the field, giving medical treatment to their fellows. Someone came up to her with a container of salve—she had a gash across her left thigh that bled silver down her leg. She hadn't even noticed. Several yards away, Mórrígan stood in close conference with Macha. Mórrígan was the taller of the two by at least six inches, but other than that the goddesses bore an astonishing resemblance to each other. Mórrígan nodded at something Macha said and then turned toward the camp, disappearing into her pavilion.

Once healed, Ginny started back to the camp as well. She'd only be in the way here. Her bare feet slipped on a blood slick, and she nearly impaled herself on her sword but was caught by a large, white hand. "Thanks," she said, raising her eyes to the second member of the Mórrígna triad of war deities, the horse goddess.

Macha nodded. "You did well tonight, Pendragon. My sister would never say it, so I will. She is very proud of you."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Did she tell you that?"

The goddess shook her head. "She did not have to."

Ginny looked around at the bodies that littered the ground. "Where are you going to hold all of them?"

"All of whom, Pendragon?"

"My name isn't Pendragon; it's Virginia," she said, slightly irritated. "Where are you going to hold the prisoners?"

"We do not take prisoners," Macha answered.

Ginny wasn't sure how she felt about that. "What were those things that we were fighting? They were awful."

The goddess shrugged. "I'm not sure what you'd call them in your world. They are wraiths, demons, monsters, creatures of the dark. We've driven them back once more, and hopefully we will continue to do so. The threat grows larger every day." She hesitated and then said, "How are you feeling, after using so much of your power?"

"Drained," Ginny answered immediately. But then she stopped to think more carefully about the question. "Not physically tired, but magically. I don't know…Dana told me once that when someone with Otherworldly power uses it in a great amount, it takes a while for the power to come back to full strength."

Macha gave her a sharp look. "Dana? This girl has powers of her own, as does her sister. We have been watching them very closely."

"Have you?" Ginny asked, extremely curious. "How is it that they have Otherworldly magic? I mean, how did it happen?"

"My sister hasn't told you?" Ginny shook her head and Macha sighed. "She is determined to cultivate your independence; she wants you to learn as much as you can on your own. Still, I can't help but think…" she glanced toward Mórrígan's pavilion and then back to Ginny. "Your power is…I don't know the word for what they'd call it in your world." She said something in a tongue Ginny didn't understand, and then thought for a moment. "Organic. The balance was threatened, and the Universe knew it was the natural time for you to be born. And so you were. These sisters…their power is unnatural. They are aberrations. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Virginia. It's what my sister would tell you if she were here."

Ginny frowned. "Are you saying they're my enemies?"

Macha rested a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I work with Dana. I mean, she's on my Auror team."

"I am aware," Macha said, her tone slightly impatient. "I said we have been watching them closely. She poses no threat to you right now. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, jogging after her.

"I'm going to send you back. Do not forget, Virginia, how using the full range of your powers tapped into martial abilities far beyond what you thought you possessed."

Ginny stopped in her tracks and thought about the goddess's words. A slow grin stole across her face. "What is it, Pendragon?" Macha asked.

"Nothing," Ginny said, unable to keep the anticipation out of her eyes. "I just realized something. That's all."

The goddess gave an approving nod and kept walking. Ginny followed and asked, "Do you think I could actually beat her, then?"

Macha shook her head. "None can beat her. She is the Mórrígan. But," she gave Ginny a sly smile, "I wouldn't be surprised if you landed a few good hits."

For the first time, Ginny actually looked forward to her next duel with the Mórrígan. Now she understood what the goddess had meant when she complained that Ginny had never really tried to best her—Ginny had never used the full range of her abilities. It had simply never occurred to her to do so; she was too used to fighting as an Auror. That was a liability when it came to fighting as the Pendragon.

* * * * *

April

Ginny checked her watch as Harry fumbled with his keys. Once inside, he disappeared into the den, calling over his shoulder, "Make yourself comfortable. I won't be a moment."

Ginny gazed around Harry's rather large London flat. He'd had it professionally decorated in warm, gracious colors. All the fabrics and rugs were heavenly to the touch, and abstract art in reds and golds (always Gryffindor colors, Ginny noted) further enhanced the coziness in the large space. Ginny suspected that he'd told his decorator to make the flat as homey and comfortable as possible in compensation for the home he'd never found at the Dursleys'.

She wandered out into the living room and trailed her fingers appreciatively over the silky wood of the baby grand piano. She had no idea why Harry would keep a piano; he didn't play and had never shown any inclination to learn. She figured the decorator had bullied him into it, which was too bad, as far as Ginny was concerned. It was a shame to waste such a beautiful instrument as a piece of furniture. She slid onto the bench and gently folded the lid back, running her fingers once over the smooth keys before picking out a simple melody. He kept the piano well tuned, which surprised her.

After a few minutes, Ginny saw him enter out of the corner of her eye. He smiled. "Please, don't let me stop you."

She twisted around to look at him. "I was just fooling around."

"You used to take lessons," he said.

She tilted her head and shot him a curious look. "Sorry?"

"Piano lessons. You told me about it at the Hogwarts Halloween Ball. Were you any good?"

Ginny gave him a small smile. "Yes, I was."

"Do you still remember how?"

She shrugged. "It's rather like riding a broom. You never forget." She moved to stand, but Harry rested a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"Show me," he said quietly, his breath ruffling the fine hairs near her ear. "I'd love to listen."

Ginny was very aware of the heat of his palm as it slid from her shoulder to cup the back of her neck, bared by her ponytail. She imagined she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and that intense green gaze on her profile. "Show me," he murmured again.

Her heart pounded, and she couldn't seem to take a deep breath. Her fingers tensed, hovered over the keys, and then she reached out and shut the lid. The dull thump of wood striking wood broke the spell; Harry straightened, disappointed. He'd been so close.

Ginny stood and turned to face him, taking the folder out of his hand. "I'd better not," she said, motioning to the instrument. "I have to be at Gwen's in half an hour, so I need to get these forms right back."

"Of course," he sighed. "Catherine will be waiting for them."

Harry walked her out, pausing on the way to check his mail, which the owls left on a small table in the entryway. Ginny watched him flip through the letters—they were mostly bills but a stiff green envelope caught her eye. "Hang on, what's that?"

He shrugged and tore it open, scanning the thick, white card inside. "It's an invitation to the Grand Council's Annual Beltaine Ball."

Ginny's eyes widened. The Beltaine Ball was the most exclusive social event of the year, when top government officials, celebrities, and the Wizarding World's wealthiest all gathered together to throw a glittering celebration. "You've been invited to the Beltaine Ball?"

He tore open another letter. "Sure. Haven't you?"

She laughed dryly. "My invitation must have been lost in the mail."

"It's owl post, Gin," he said distractedly. "It doesn't get lost. I…oh. Sorry." His cheeks tinged a dull, embarrassed red.

She gave a small laugh. "It's fine. I'm not an A-list celebrity or the chair of a department. I'd be shocked if I'd been sent an invitation. Are you going to go?"

"I never have before." He paused and looked up at her. Something in her eyes told him to ask. "Do you want to go?"

She shook her head, disappointed. "I'd love to, but the invitation is to Harry Potter. If Ginny Weasley showed up instead—"

"The invitation is to Harry Potter plus one," he corrected, holding the card out for her inspection. "Come with me, Gin. It would be fun. No pressure or expectations; just you, me, and a roomful of rich, self-important snobs." She wanted to say yes. He could tell.

Ginny bit her lip. She wanted to go. But the thought of showing up on Harry's arm, with all the press taking her picture…all the attention that would come with arriving with the Boy Who Lived combined with the fact that she didn't know how far she could trust herself around him…Harry's company was addictive. "I don't know."

He pulled the invitation back and said in a casual tone, "Check your calendar and let me know?"

"All right," she agreed, grateful to him for giving her an out. They both knew that she didn't have any plans, but she needed to think.

* * * * *

Ginny dropped onto the padded table with a sigh. Her appointments with Gwen's masseuse were the highlight of her week. Elka, she of the magic hands, rubbed Ginny's tension away with long strokes of her palms. The small waterfall in the corner that gently spilled water into a stone basin and the dim light of softly scented candles soon put Ginny to sleep.

She didn't wake until something cold and wet splattered across her back, jarring her back into consciousness. She jerked her head up and looked blearily at Gwen, who stood beside the massage table, a wrung out sponge in her hand. "That was cruel."

Gwen laughed. "Good massage, then?"

Ginny grinned sleepily. "Give Elka a raise."

"If I gave her a raise every time you told me to, she'd be making more money than I am."

"Which is?"

"A lot," Gwen said, tossing Ginny a fluffy white robe. "Esme is an absolute miracle. She's planning to expand the business into new markets."

"What kind of markets?" Ginny asked, slipping into the robe while Gwen turned her back.

"She says I could create my own makeup line," Gwen said. "I'm terrible at potions, you know, so I'd probably make up the colors and we'd hire a lab to do the rest. Still," her cheeks tinged pink with pleasure as she turned back to face her friend, "it's nice that she believes I can. She thinks I'm smart."

"You are smart," Ginny said, pushing her hair back from her face. "Look at all this. You did it yourself."

"Well, Shannon helped with the money," Gwen said. "Esme has also put plans in motion for a high-end clothing line. Gladrags has the market cornered right now, but she's retained a marketing firm to get my name out and maybe in a few years…I've already started sketches for our first line. They should go into production within the next three or four months."

Ginny nearly burst with pride for her friend. "That's wonderful. Can I see them?"

"I wasn't going to let you out of here without taking a look," Gwen answered, pushing the door open and starting down the hall. Barefoot, Ginny followed her up the stairs and down the hall to her small, cramped office. Gwen poured Ginny a mug of strong lemon tea. Pulling her robe more tightly around her, Ginny sank into one of the hard plastic chairs across Gwen's desk. Her friend had spared no expense when it came to the luxury of the rooms downstairs, but scrimped on her own personal comfort.

"Sermo," Gwen said into her wand. "Esme, can you bring the drawings over to my office? Ginny is here."

A moment later, Esme poked her head in the door. She was intelligent looking, with short, dark hair and glasses that framed her brown eyes. She held out a large sketchbook and said with a grin, "I keep telling her she's fantastically talented, but she won't believe me."

Gwen blushed. Ginny flipped through the large pages, looking at each illustration, painstakingly rendered in vibrant inks. The gowns were original, tasteful and classy with just a hint of scandalous detail on each. One had a slit up the side that went just a bit higher than necessary. Another was quite demure, with long sleeves and a high neck, but the fabric was delicately diaphanous. "Where did you learn to draw like this?" Ginny asked in amazement.

Gwen looked very pleased with herself. "You like them, then?"

"They're wonderful," Ginny said, turning the page. "You won't be able to make them fast enough."

"Leave that part to me," Esme said, brushing an invisible piece of lint off of her black suit jacket and dropping into the seat next to Ginny. "We'll have boutiques in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to start, but we should be able to expand to Paris within a few years, if we sell the way I'm expecting."

"All this business talk hurts my brain," Gwen said as Ginny turned another page. "Gin, tell me something interesting."

"Like what?" she asked without looking up.

"I don't know. What did you do today?"

"Well," she said slowly, "Harry invited me to the Beltaine Ball. I haven't—"

"Harry Potter?" Esme cut in sharply.

"Yeah," Ginny said, pausing to appreciate a dress of clingy, dark bronze material. "I'm not sure, though—"

"But this is fantastic!" Esme exclaimed. "If we can get a dress finished for you in time…I mean, if you show up on Harry Potter's arm wearing one of Gwen's gowns…" Her eyes lit up as she began to plan. "We'd make all the society pages, definitely. Be sure to tell the reporters who made your dress. I'll have to call the marketing people—"

"Esme!" Ginny interrupted. "I don't think it's—"

"Gin," Gwen cut in, "this would be such a good opportunity for me, and for the business. If you don't like anything in the book, I can always make up something else. Just please say you'll wear something of mine?"

"It's not that," Ginny insisted. "These are all lovely. It's just, I'm not sure if I can go."

Esme frowned, confused. "Why couldn't you go? It's the Beltaine Ball. With Harry Potter."

"It's just that…" Ginny trailed off, not knowing what to say. Esme was practically a stranger, after all.

Gwen understood. "Could you give us a moment?" she asked her business manager.

"I don't see why," Esme protested. "This is a huge opportunity."

"I know," Gwen said. "Just a moment. It'll be okay."

When Esme had shut the door, Gwen moved around the desk to sit next to Ginny. "Tell me?" she asked gently.

Ginny sighed. "It's not that I don't want to go. I do. But I don't know if I can."

"Are you busy that night?"

She shook her head. "No. It's not…I mean, I don't know if I can go with him."

Gwen silently regarded her friend. Ginny never talked about Harry, not to any of them. Not even Ria knew what was really between the two Aurors. Ginny had changed since Hogwarts and not, as far as Gwen was concerned, for the better. She sometimes seemed tired beyond mere exhaustion, and more often than not her eyes were…not sad, exactly, but lost, as though she didn't know where she fit in, as though she thought herself alone. She wasn't; Gwen wanted to give Ginny a hug, tell her that she, Ria, and Shannon would always be there for her, but she didn't. Instead, she asked, "Why couldn't you go with him? Is he an ex?"

Ginny gave an incredulous, nervous laugh. "An ex? Hardly."

"Then what's the matter?"

She picked at the threads of her robe. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. "I don't know what to say. I mean, your dresses are all lovely, and—"

"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to. But I'm your friend, Gin. Don't think about the dress. That's not important right now. If you want to talk, though, I'm here to listen." She hesitated a moment and then said, "Ria told me about the fight Harry and Mike had at your place in February. She said that she heard the whole thing from the other room."

Ginny bit her lip, but didn't look up. Gwen continued, "I mean, they've never liked each other, have they? But Ria mentioned something Harry said about when you and Mike were together…" Still, Ginny didn't rise to the bait. Gwen asked quietly, "Is it true, then? Are you in love with him?"

"He's in love with me," Ginny said.

Gwen smiled. "Anyone with eyes can see that. But it's not what I asked. Are you in love with him?"

Ginny bristled at the personal question, but before she could say anything Gwen continued, "Don't look at me like that. I'm your friend. It's my job to ask you questions like this. I want to know why you'll skip a Ball that, by all accounts, you desperately want to attend, just because Harry would be your partner. If you don't have feelings for him then it wouldn't be a problem—you'd just go as friends and have a good time. If you do care for him, then it still wouldn't be a problem. What better occasion than the Beltaine Ball to spend time with the person you love? What's the matter?"

"You don't understand," she said through clenched teeth.

"Maybe it's because you're so damn secretive about everything!" Gwen exclaimed. "Somebody has to say these things. Ria and Shannon wouldn't ever give unsolicited advice on your personal business, so it's up to me. Go to the Ball, Gin. If you don't want it to be anything more than a night out, then he'll be a gentleman and respect that. Why shouldn't you have a good time?"

Ginny remained silent, which Gwen took for assent. "I have just the dress." She took the sketchbook off of Ginny's lap and flipped to the back. "It'll be perfect for you." Ginny had to admit that her friend was absolutely right. The dress was beautiful. Gwen talked on, "Come in this weekend, won't you, to be measured? The seamstress can start right away. And I'll clear my schedule for the day of the Ball; you'll need hair, makeup, nails, and," she gave Ginny a cheerful smile, "a massage from Elka."

Ginny sighed, knowing when to admit defeat. "A massage from Elka? Then I can't say no."

Gwen pulled over a parchment and quill. "Owl Harry and tell him you're going, so he can RSVP for two. You won't be sorry, Gin. You'll look like a treat when I'm done with you."

* * * * *

Draco wandered into the morning room, his eyes quickly sweeping the area before lighting on his mother. Narcissa sat at her genteel writing desk, her heavy golden hair twisted into a sophisticated knot at the nape of her neck. "Lucius wants to know if you have the final guest list."

She looked up and, with a vague smile, held out a cream-colored sheet of parchment. "The last few owls arrived today."

He scanned the names. "Harry Potter is coming?"

She nodded, moving her neatly alphabetized stack of RSVPs out of the way and arranging a new sheet of parchment in the center of her desk, just so. "He's never cared for society before, but his owl came two weeks ago."

"Who's his plus one?" Draco asked, already having a good idea as to the answer.

Narcissa shifted through her stack of cards until she found the one she was looking for. "Ginny Weasley." She was too well bred to sneer outright, but scorn was evident in her voice. "Nasty, common family. No proper wizarding pride. The ladies on the Ball committee were not pleased to receive Potter's note."

Draco laughed. "Don't be such a snob."

"Nonsense," Narcissa sniffed, poking her nose in the air and turning back to her work. "I haven't a snobbish bone in my body. Do tell your father to send the guest list back after he and the other Councilmen have been over it. It's the only complete copy I have."

"Of course," Draco agreed, brushing his mother's cheek with a kiss, more out of duty than any genuine affection. "I'll see you at lunch."

She waved him away, already lost in her listmaking. Planning an event the size of the Beltaine Ball was a monumental undertaking. Draco doubted he'd be able to pull it off, and he had nothing but respect for the social skills of his mother and the rest of the committee. He sent the parchment to the Ministry with his eagle owl and then jogged through the Manor until he reached his wing. "Blaise!" he bellowed, coming up the stairs. "Where the hell are you?"

Blaise poked his head out a door and Shannon followed, looking decidedly rumpled. "What? We're busy."

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't apologize for interrupting their snogging session. His eyes shone with anticipation. "Potter is bringing her to the Ball. Get everyone together. This time, we're going to do it right."

* * * * *

May

Ginny stared at the mirror, hardly able to believe that she was looking at herself. Gwen's gown was a masterpiece. Ginny was rather curvaceous; she knew it was only a matter of time before her body turned from rounded to plump – she took after her mother that way. But she was determined to hold it off for as long as possible and remained reasonably trim through her work as an Auror and her regular bouts with Mórrígan.

The gown made the most of every curve. A silver clasp fastened it toga-style on her left shoulder, leaving the right bare. From there the royal blue silk, arranged in elegant drapery, clung gently to her body on its cascade to the floor. The fabric parted near the bottom, creating a slit that stretched to mid-thigh. When Ginny stood still the skirt hung straight to the floor, but when she moved the slit would part, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of leg.

Gwen had piled Ginny's hair high atop her head and held it in place with a silver comb. She slid a thick silver cuff onto Ginny's upper right arm, and clasped a silver ankle bracelet around her right ankle, making sure it hung just so above her high-heeled sandals.

Ginny's skin had been brushed, massaged, and pumiced until every square inch of it glowed and was silky soft to the touch. The silver freckle charm was the finishing detail. "Gwen, I love it."

"You look like Venus," Esme said from her chair in the corner. She had closely supervised every step of the proceedings.

"Not Venus," Gwen said, giving Ginny a final once-over. "Diana, I think."

Ginny couldn't help but blush with pleasure. "Thank you so much for all this. All the time it took, I mean. And the dress."

"You and this dress are going to put us at least six months ahead in advertising. You need to look perfect so that the dress will look perfect, and Gwen has done a masterful job," Esme praised.

Gwen grinned. "I had good raw materials to work with. You won't forget to tell the reporters who made your dress?"

"Of course not," Ginny insisted, still captivated by her reflection. "As if I would."

There was a gentle knock at the door and Elka poked her head in. "Miss Winters, Mr. Potter is here."

Ginny's heart did a little flip when she saw Harry. He had eschewed the Wizarding tradition of dress robes in favor of Muggle formal wear, white tie and tails. He was bent over the receptionist's desk, peering into a jar of chocolates. "You look very nice," she said softly.

Harry hurriedly replaced the jar lid and turned to face her, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. He looked at her and blinked. Then blinked again. His mouth opened and he whispered, "Wow."

She smiled and shifted her weight nervously. "I'll be good advertising." Harry's eyes swept her from head to toe and back again and, rather than making her self-conscious or uncomfortable as she'd expected, Ginny felt a lovely warmth at the look in his eyes.

Trailed by Esme, Gwen swept into the spa's front room. "You like it, then?"

Harry grinned at her. "You have my gratitude."

"What do I get?" Ginny asked.

"My attention," he replied, holding out his hand. Ginny took it and he pulled her close, gently resting her palm in the crook of his elbow. "My undivided attention."

She hadn't blushed this hard since she was twelve years old. Maybe this had been a mistake. But there couldn't be any harm in pretending that she and Harry were really together, just for tonight. If only he'd stop being so stubborn and learn to compromise, settle for less than everything.

You want to have your cake and eat it too, he said in her mind. When her eyes flew to his, though, she saw only gentle affection. It's all right. You wouldn't be Ginny otherwise. He turned once more to Gwen and Esme to bid them goodbye.

"You have her back by a reasonable hour, young man," Gwen teased.

Ginny grinned. "Don't wait up."

As they watched Harry help Ginny into the carriage, Esme laced her fingers through Gwen's. "You really are an amazing artist," she said, leaning her head on Gwen's shoulder.

Gwen's smile stretched across her entire face as she leaned down and kissed Esme square on the mouth. The business manager laughed. "What was that for?"

"Last month I asked Ginny a question she couldn't answer. At least, not out loud. But did you see the two of them together just now?" She gave a satisfied nod. "I have my answer. When we get home, I'll have to ring Ria."

"Won't Shannon want to know your revelation too?" Esme asked, taking a chocolate from the desk.

"She's at the Ball tonight," Gwen replied. "She'll see for herself."

* * * * *

They didn't talk much in the carriage. Harry was content just to look at her. He couldn't think of anything to say.

His silent regard was beginning to make Ginny nervous. "No dress robes?" she asked, gesturing to his clothes.

He shook his head. "A few of us from the Division decided to wear Muggle clothes tonight, to show support for Muggle-borns and halfbloods."

"You're going to cause a stir," she predicted. "No one will notice Gwen's gown."

"Somehow, I find that very hard to believe," he said, lifting the curtain and glancing outside, checking the carriage's progress.

Ginny played with the tassels of her wrap and tapped her shoe on the floor. "Nervous?" Harry asked.

"A little," she replied. "I don't know how you can stand it, people staring at you everywhere you go. I'm nervous for the walk inside the Ball; I can't imagine dealing with it every day. I suppose you're used to it though."

"Not really," he said, running his fingers through his hair out of habit. "It's one of those things you never get used to. I—oh, damn. Now it's all messed up." He tried in vain to smooth the wild locks down against his head.

"Leave it," Ginny said, reaching out and catching his wrist. "It's better this way." Harry just didn't look like himself without untidy hair sticking out in all directions.

He froze at the feel of her skin against his. He couldn't remember the last time she'd voluntarily touched him first, initiated contact. Her skin was warm and soft, he could feel each finger, five brands searing the sensitive flesh of his inner wrist and making his pulse jump. Suddenly, the carriage seemed very small.

Ginny met his eyes, and what she saw there sent a delicate flush creeping across her skin. Her breath came in fluttery gasps. Harry could see her pulse at the base of her throat—it pounded as hard as his own.

The gold tips of her cinnamon lashes swept down and she swayed toward him, just a little bit. He leaned in, stretching his mouth to hers, and the carriage jerked to a halt. Ginny was thrown forward into Harry's lap; her forehead knocked against his chin. The kiss was over before it had begun

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palm to her head. "Ow!"

He helped her back onto the opposite seat, rubbing his chin ruefully. "I think we're here."

Ginny raised the curtain and peeked out, hoping it would give her a few moments to calm herself. But when she saw the red carpet crawling with photographers and reporters, her heart sped up and her hands fisted anxiously. "It'll be fine," Harry reassured, leaning back in his seat and watching her. "We'll stick it out together. Remember Gwen's dress, and all the help you'll be giving her by going up the carpet instead of around to the back entrance."

It had been the perfect thing to say. Ginny screwed up her courage; Gwen needed her. The coachman climbed down and opened the door for them. Harry stepped out and then turned to help her. Ginny had been to a Muggle dance club once; Ria had dragged her. The incredible flurry of flashbulbs that followed their exit from the coach reminded her of the strobe lights she'd seen in the club that day. The flashes disoriented her, and she clung tightly to Harry's arm while fighting to keep a natural smile on her face. Harry waved to the crowd; she did too.

They walked past a long line of reporters, all calling, "Harry! Harry! Mr. Potter! Over here!" Harry and Ginny didn't stop. They walked past the Wizarding press corps, flashbulbs popping, people shouting. His arm was an anchor. Are you all right? he asked.

I will be once we get inside, she answered.

Just as they reached the door to the Ministry building a reporter called out, "Miss Weasley, who are you wearing?"

This was it. Ginny turned around with a huge smile. She didn't have to force this one; she was proud of her friend and all of her accomplishments. "It's a Gwen Winters. The label is in production right now, and boutiques will open at Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade within the next few months." Cameras flashed. The Boy Who Lived rarely attended Wizarding functions; pictures of him were few and far between. To catch him on a date—it was a coup for any photographer.

"And what do you think of Miss Weasley's dress, Harry?" a reporter called.

Harry smiled and slowly raised Ginny's fingers to his lips, brushing them with a gentle kiss before answering, "I think she looks good enough to eat."

Ginny blushed, and the reporters roared with approval. She and Harry stayed for a few more moments to make sure every press outlet got a shot of her gown, and then he gently tugged her inside.

They followed the procession through the halls of the Ministry. Harry hadn't yet dropped her hand, and when she looked up at him she saw his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"Good enough to eat?" she asked incredulously.

"It's a sound bite, Gin. By this time tomorrow, everyone will know that I said that about Gwen's dress. Esme will be insane with joy. And the look on your face!" A shout of laughter escaped his lips; she couldn't help but smile. Several venerable, old wizards turned to look at the young man causing such a fuss. This only made Harry laugh harder.

They rounded a corner into a large room topped with a glass dome. Fairy lights twinkled from the walls, and candles hovered in midair. Ginny saw that everyone seemed to be heading to one corner, so she tugged Harry along.

At the other end of the room, there was a long table. Behind it stood wizards in black dress robes, with the formal, correct bearing of servants. As the guests approached the table, these servants used long silver tongs to hand each wizard and witch…something. Ginny couldn't see what. But upon receiving it, the guest promptly vanished. "Portkeys!"

This killed Harry's humor. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, watching as another couple disappeared. "The Ball must be somewhere off site."

Now it was Harry's turn to cling to her. His fingers tightened around her hand, and she squeezed back. It was only natural for him to be nervous of Portkeys, and he had good reason to be suspicious of anyone and everyone who might offer him such a thing.

They gained the front of the queue, and the footman behind the table, so stiff he seemed to have been starched, held out a small crystal sphere. Is it safe? Harry asked her.

Ginny quickly called up her sight. Yes.

He held out his hand, squeezing hers even tighter. The man dropped the Portkey into Harry's palm, and Ginny felt a familiar pulling sensation. The world stopped spinning and shifted back into focus. Ginny gasped.

They stood on the edge of a field ringed with bonfires. In the center were three dance floors, hovering one on top of the other. Magic carpets – the Ball committee must have received special permission – waited to carry guests between the floors and the ground. Off to the side stood a massive tent of rich purple fabric tied back with golden tassels for the orchestra. The bonfires combined with thousands of candles and fairy lights gave the entire clearing a warm golden glow. Up above, the deep blue sky was spangled with silver stars. "So this is how the other half lives?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to one of these. Isn't it pretty, though?"

"Yes," she agreed.

Another recent arrival must have overheard their comments. "You have Narcissa Malfoy to thank for this," he said. "She's the chair of this year's Ball committee."

Harry turned to the man and pushed his glasses further up his nose, frowning in consternation. "The Malfoys are here?"

"Of course they are," the man answered, looking at Harry as though he were quite mad. "Besides Mrs. Malfoy being the chair of the committee, Mr. Malfoy is on the Grand Council now isn't he? Why wouldn't they be here?"

Harry shrugged and led Ginny away without another word. "What was that all about?" she asked. "I don't like Malfoys any more than you do, but –"

"Lucius tried to kill you, Gin, your first year."

She smirked at that. "Let's see him try it now."

"Believe me, he'd jump at the chance," Harry replied, scanning the grounds. "Listen, don't go near the Malfoys tonight."

Ginny pulled her hand out of his. "What could I possibly have to say to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Not just them," he said. "Draco too. Just…stay away from him."

She rolled her eyes. "The apple doesn't fall far from the Malfoy tree. I don't have anything to say to a Death Eater, don't worry."

Harry looked very serious. He nodded, glanced around once more, and then said, "I think they're seating for dinner." She smiled, and he laced his fingers through hers once more. "Shall we?"

Ginny nodded, and they walked across the lawns together.

* * * * *

Draco stood with Delia, Blaise, and Shannon. "She and Potter are headed toward the dining tent," Blaise said, watching out of the corner of his eye.

"We're never going to get her alone," Delia said. "He's not going to let her out of his sight."

"Relax," Draco told her. "Shannon will take care of it. And the others are waiting in the woods; she can't possibly fight all of them. Everyone, remember your job. We can do this." Without waiting for a response, he rested his hand on Delia's lower back and led her away.

Shannon watched them go and took a deep breath. "Nervous?" Blaise asked.

"A little," she answered. "She's going to hate me for this."

"Maybe at first," he acknowledged. "But you're rescuing her from Dumbledore. She'll thank you in the long run."

"Are you sure?"

Blaise nodded and squeezed her shoulders. "It's what she wants, even though she doesn't know it yet."

* * * * *

Ginny slipped her shoes off and stood with the cool grass beneath her feet. The sandals had begun to pinch; she needed a little break. She was warm from all of the dancing, but was having a wonderful time with Harry. Everyone stared at him and the other Aurors who had been invited; their Muggle clothes had caused quite a commotion. Ginny was proud of him. She knew how much he disliked being the center of attention, but he drew even more attention to himself tonight than was necessary to show support for the non-pureblooded members of the Wizarding community. Everywhere he went, whispers followed.

He had left her on the sidelines and gone to fetch something to drink. She stood and watched the wizards and witches whirl by in their brightly colored dress robes and gowns, and barely noticed someone approach her from behind. "Lonely?" a man murmured in her ear.

She didn't even have to look to know who it was. "Go away, Malfoy."

Draco smiled and came around to stand in front of her. "Has Potter abandoned you? Not very gentlemanly of him, is it?"

"What do you want?"

He shrugged and folded his arms across his blue robes. She was challenge personified; he had noticed her standing alone and hadn't been able to resist the temptation to come over and talk to her. "What's the matter, Weasley? Aren't you having fun?"

She had been having a good time, until he'd come up to her. "Is this the face of someone who's not having fun?"

He arched an eyebrow and scrutinized her for a moment. "Your face is as a book, where men may read strange matters."

Ginny briefly stiffened. Did he suspect that she was Jezebel? Or worse? Then she recognized the line. "Macbeth."

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a surprised smile. "You know Shakespeare?"

"I read a lot. I'm surprised at you, though. He was a Muggle. It's hardly the sort of thing your father would approve of." Gods and goddesses, was she really standing here making small talk with Draco Malfoy, even though she'd give her right hand to see him in Azkaban?

"Lucius's policy is 'Know thine enemy.' I've received a first rate education," he acknowledged. "Maths, science, literature…I am a Malfoy, after all."

"Thou callst thyself a hotter name than any is in hell," she said in a mild tone, scanning the crowd for Harry.

He laughed. "Macbeth again. I'm impressed."

"What do you want?" she asked, an impatient edge creeping into her words. "I know it may come as a surprise to you, but this stopped being fun for me right about the time you showed up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Go away," she said through clenched teeth.

He smirked, and she fought an uncontrollable urge to hit him. "What if I enjoy your company?" he asked.

"I don't care."

"Matching wits with a Gryffindor is so tiresome. You people have no mental finesse." Gods, but she hated that horrible drawl.

Ginny clenched her fists, but kept her tone mild. "If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt."

He gave a genuine shout of laughter. "I doubt that."

"Try me."

"I intend to."

Ginny had the sudden sense that she'd gone too far, but pride prevented her from backing down first. He was watching her closely, his head tilted to the side. "As You Like It?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. "No. Two Gentlemen of Verona."

"Ah." They were silent a moment more, and just as Ginny was about to tell him for the third time to go away, Draco took a step back from her. "Potter is coming over here."

She glanced in Harry's direction. "He looks nearly homicidal," she said in a conversational tone.

Draco shot her an unreadable look. "In that case, I must humbly take my leave of you."

She gave him a withering glare. "You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will not more willingly part withal."

That earned her another grin. He bowed slightly, and then made himself scarce.

Harry came charging up, champagne flutes in hand. "What was he doing here?"

"Quoting Hamlet," she said, taking a glass from him and downing half of it in one swallow. Gods, but she needed that. Her head hurt.

"What?" Harry was confused.

"I don't know. Don't ask me. The man is evil. Who knows how their minds work?" She dropped her shoes on the ground and slipped her feet back into them. "Hurry up and finish your drink; I want to dance again." She needed to forget about Malfoy; he made her queasy.

Harry asked, "What did he talk about? Was he bothering you?"

"Don't worry about it. I got rid of him. Dance with me?"

Ginny smiled at him, and Harry couldn't say no. He handed his half-empty flute off to a passing waiter and together they walked to a waiting magic carpet.

* * * * *

They sat at a small table, watching people go by, appreciating the glow from the candles and bonfires, which still blazed high. Ginny felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to see Shannon, looking sophisticated in black, long sleeved robes. Ginny grinned. "Hi! You look great!"

Shannon gave her friend a quick hug. "No thanks to you. Gwen wouldn't take any appointments at all today, so I had to make do with an inferior salon. And Elka was similarly occupied."

"Ah, the wonderful Elka," Harry said. "I'm going to have to try her out, considering the way you all go on about her. Even Ria says she's fantastic."

"Good luck getting an appointment," Shannon said, taking a seat next to Ginny. "She's very exclusive. The only way we ever get in to see her is because we're Gwen's friends. The rest of the time, she's reserved only for rich, famous types."

"I think Harry's got the fame and riches decently covered," Ginny pointed out. Shannon looked mildly embarrassed; it was easy to forget how famous Harry was when she'd known him for years.

Shannon's heart was pounding, and she almost backed out. But no, this was too important. Ginny was their only hope of defeating Voldemort. "I'm going to the powder room. Come with me?"

Harry stopped Shannon with a hand on her arm. His fingers curled right over her mark, and Shannon froze, wondering if he could feel it through the fabric. But that was insane. He might be the Boy Who Lived, but he was still only human. Her eyes flew to his. "Why is it that women can never go to the loo alone? It's a mystery of the female mind that I've never been able to figure out. Not even Hermione can explain it."

Ginny laughed. "It's because we go there to talk about men. What did you think? Come on, Shannon."

He grinned and released her arm. "Only say nice things about me, all right?"

"Always," Ginny reassured, standing and collecting her purse. "Where are we going, then?"

"This way." As they walked through the crowd, they talked easily about their friends, what other Ball guests were wearing, and the show Harry made for the paparazzi outside the Ministry building. Ginny tactfully avoided asking Shannon what she was doing with Blaise Zabini, and wondered if her friend was aware that Blaise was a suspected Death Eater. Still, the division had never been able to prove anything, and her friend had always been the type to give people the benefit of the doubt.

They crossed outside the ring of bonfires, leaving them out of sight of the Ball guests. "Shannon," Ginny asked, "where…I mean, I think we went the wrong way." The area was deserted.

Shannon looked around. "Dammit. It must be on the other side. Come on."

They started off around the periphery of the Ball, the ring of fire to their right, dark trees to their left. The light threw everything into startling relief; half of their faces and bodies were brightly lit, the other half in cool shadow. Shannon nervously rubbed her mark, and hoped that Ginny wouldn't notice.

Ginny was scanning the trees. Something wasn't quite right. She felt…just then, someone grabbed her from behind. "Run!" she yelled to Shannon, using her entire weight to drive the heel of her shoe into the bridge of her attacker's foot. He yelped and let go. Ginny took off, grabbing Shannon's hand and pulling her along. Shannon was a slow runner; she wasn't in peak physical condition as Ginny was. Still, Ginny helped her friend along as best as she could. A hex flew through the air, lightly singing Shannon's topknot as it soared over her head. With a little shriek, she sped up.

More people, masked and in black robes, poured out of the trees, blocking their way. Ginny stared, wild-eyed, at the sheer number of them. There was no way she'd be able to fight them all off. Not with Shannon here. Her friend stood frozen, her death grip on Ginny's hand holding both women in place. "Come on!" Ginny hissed urgently. "We have to get out of here. Can we apparate?"

Shannon didn't move. "This is a secure area. It's why we needed Portkeys."

Just as another hex flew through the air, Ginny wrenched herself from her friend's grasp and pulled out her wand. "Transporto!" Shannon vanished. Ginny hoped she'd land somewhere near Harry, because she didn't know how long she could hold these men off.

Beltaine. It was Beltaine. And there was a fire… The Death Eaters closed in on her; the flames were at her back. There was only one way out. She whirled around and shouted, "Flammagelo," the flame-freezing charm.

At the same moment, one of the Death Eaters realized what she was about to do. "Stop her!" he yelled. A jet of red light flew through the air, carrying Ginny's wand along with it. Without hesitating a moment more, she threw herself into the flames.

There was a rush of wind, and then Ginny landed in a heap in the middle of Mórrígan's camp. It had worked. She stood up and used a bit of the silver power to clean her dress off, unable to keep a grin off of her face. She'd just sent herself to the Otherworld, completely without the goddess's help. Of course, she had no idea of how to get back, but at least she was relatively safe here.

Several soldiers stopped short at her sudden appearance and frankly stared. "Shall I fetch our Queen, Pendragon?" a man finally asked, his eyes wide.

"That's all right," Ginny said, the smile refusing to leave her face. "I'll get her myself."

Slipping her shoes off, Ginny walked barefoot through the camp and, looking forward to seeing Mórrígan's face, stuck her head inside the goddess's pavilion. Mórrígan looked up. "Virginia. I've been expecting you."

Ginny's face fell. "You were? But you didn't bring me here. How could you have known—"

The goddess interrupted, "I am the Mórrígan. I know what you're going to do before you do it." She stood and walked out of her quarters, tossing Ginny the practice sword as she passed. Somewhat disgruntled, Ginny followed.

As always before, Mórrígan gave a perfunctory salute with her sword and then immediately rained down a flurry of deadly strokes. Ginny fought them off, putting a bit of space between herself and the goddess. The silver fire burned within her, and Ginny grabbed onto it, let it flow into her arms and legs. She could feel her strength and speed increasing, feel the power of the Pendragon inside of her. The sword flew. As her strokes sped up, Mórrígan matched Ginny's increase in skill with ease.

That's when Ginny realized that, all those years, Mórrígan had been holding back. She'd matched herself to Ginny's abilities, teaching her, helping her develop as a fighter. The insight brought momentary distraction, and the goddess's blade sliced down the length of Ginny's right arm, leaving it useless. Without missing a beat, the Pendragon flipped the sword to her left hand.

Now the duel grew furious. Otherworldly denizens grouped around the fences, staring openmouthed at the mortal who matched their goddess stroke for stroke. The wound in her arm was beginning to make Ginny dizzy; she pushed a great burst of silver power into her sword arm and, for the first time ever, went on the offensive. Mórrígan fended off three, four, five thrusts but on the sixth the blade of Ginny's sword slid across the back of the goddess's hand. A line of silver welled from the scratch and Ginny froze. She'd drawn blood.

Mórrígan thrust her sword directly through Ginny's shoulder, cracking bones, puncturing a lung, dropping her to the ground. It was a mortal blow. The doctor vaulted the fence and wrenched the weapon out of the Pendragon's body. Ginny screamed in pain. Without waiting for the goddess's permission, the doctor emptied her entire vial of healing potion directly onto the wound. Ginny's vision snapped sharply back into focus. From her spot on the ground, she watched the doctor and the goddess.

Mórrígan was saying, "Enough. Leave it."

"But, Your Majesty," the woman protested, "it will leave a scar."

"It is a scar I will wear," the goddess snapped. "Tend to the Pendragon." She started out of the dueling field, but paused next to Ginny's prone body, leaning down until their faces were a bare inch apart. "Your distraction at causing a minor wound would have led to your death. Next time, act as a true warrior and press home your advantage." She straightened back up and left the field without looking back.

Ginny dragged herself to her feet. The dress was ruined – covered in dirt and silver blood, with a gaping tear in the left shoulder. She used her last bit of magic to remove the stains and mend the hole. The dress was as good as new, but Ginny was exhausted. "You did well, Pendragon."

She whirled around to see Macha standing there, a smile on her face. "She killed me," Ginny answered.

"Do you know why she refused treatment?" Ginny shook her head, and the goddess explained, "No one has ever drawn blood from her before. Ever. This is the first wound she has ever received, and she will wear the scar to remind her to never underestimate you again."

"Really?" Ginny couldn't help a rush of pride at the goddess's words.

"You have every right to be pleased with your abilities, but don't get too puffed up about it, Pendragon. She did kill you, after all. Come with me, I'll fix your hair and then send you back. It's safe now."

"Do you know who those people were?" Ginny asked.

Either Macha didn't hear, or she chose not to answer.

* * * * *

Ginny landed next to the fire on the side away from the ball. She stumbled, but maintained her footing. Harry came running up. "What happened? I knew something was…and then Shannon…."

"Is she all right?" was the first thing out of Ginny's mouth. "Where is she?"

"She's back at the Ball, pretty shaken up. What happened to you?"

"There were Death Eaters," Ginny answered, scanning the area. "They're gone now."

He held his wand at the ready. "How do you know?"

"I went through the fire to get away, and it took me to the Otherworld." She tugged on his sleeve to get him to turn around. "I got Mórrígan on the hand, just here," she pointed the spot on her own hand. "And Macha told me it was safe to come back."

Harry thought the way she spoke of deities with the same casual familiarity she used when speaking of her friends was creepy. He changed the subject; "You went through the fire?"

"With a flame-freezing charm, yeah. Oh, wait. My wand is gone." She looked around, but the shadows made it hard to see anything. "I don't suppose you—"

"Accio Ginny's wand," Harry said, anticipating her request. The magical instrument came flying up from the ground and she caught it easily. His eyes hadn't stopped sweeping the area. "Death Eaters, you said?"

That dropped Ginny from her adrenaline rush faster than she would have thought possible. Suddenly her wand was also at the ready, her voice deadly serious. "Yes. They must know; they have to. We need to get back to the division right away, put a watch on the Burrow and the joke shop. "

"Calm down. They can't know. How could they?"

"What else could they have wanted?"

He managed a brief smile, hoping to calm her down. "It's not always about you, Gin. Shannon's family is pretty high profile; maybe it was a kidnap attempt on her. I'll talk to her about it, and ask if she wants protection. Or, more likely, they wanted to disrupt the Ball. It could even have been because you're my date."

"But my parents—"

"If it turns out that this had nothing to do with you, which is probably the case, and we put a guard on the Burrow, it'll be like sending Voldemort an owl saying, 'There's something important about Ginny Weasley that you don't know. Wouldn't you love to find out?' It would be a stupid thing to do, Gin. Trust me. You have to think like an Auror instead of a daughter."

She straightened, suddenly stiff. "Fine. I'll just…never mind. Let's go find Shannon and make sure she's all right."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked gently, resting a hand on her arm.

Ginny shrugged him off. "I'm okay. I just want to get away from here." She turned and stalked off and, after sending one more glance into the woods, he followed.

Just beyond the trees, a small group of Death Eaters watched the exchange. "If you hadn't sent the others away, we could've taken them just then," Delia said to Draco. "We'll never get them now."

"Don't you ever say anything pleasant?" he shot back. "You're bad for morale. If you can't be helpful then shut up."

Taken aback at his sharp tone, she lapsed into silence. Blaise sighed. "We'll have to come up with something else. Not on a calendar feast. That was a bad idea."

"Good point," Draco said. He thought for a moment and then his eyes, reflecting the flames of the bonfires, gleamed with an idea.

"What is it?" Delia asked.

"We can get the Pendragon and deal a blow to Voldemort all at the same time," he said half-aloud, his mind racing to put together the pieces of his plan. "I think it's time that the mole is caught."

Blaise picked up on his friend's line of reasoning almost immediately. "We'll talk to the others tomorrow. A trail of breadcrumbs…."

"She'll pick up on the clues eventually. They lay a trap for the mole, and we lay a trap for her. Something with a little more finesse than cornering her at a Ball."

* * * * *

July

Ginny got a tight grip on the cardboard box and stepped into the fire, calling out "Hogwarts!" The floo network delivered her to the castle's main hall. She tripped out of the fireplace and Ron caught her before she could fall.

"Have you got everything?" Hermione asked.

Ginny lifted the box flap and peeked inside. "It looks like it's all here."

"Great," her sister-in-law said. "If you carry it to our rooms, I'll start resizing everything."

Dumbledore had hired Hermione to fill Professor Vector's vacant place in the Hogwarts faculty. Hermione had gone through a long, frustrating job search and so, when she'd received news that Hogwarts wanted her, she'd accepted immediately. Ron was less than pleased at having to live in a school filled with teenagers, but Hermione was so eager to start that he didn't have the heart to complain. He moaned and groaned to Harry and Ginny, but when his wife was around he was nothing but supportive. Ginny gave them a week before he finally told her how he felt, and another week before she forgave him. Then everything would be back to normal. Ron would adjust.

Hermione, ever the charms expert, shrunk all of their things. She managed to fit the contents of their flat into five large boxes. Ron enlisted Harry and Mike to help, and everything was taken care of. If Ron noticed that two of his movers didn't speak or look at each other, he didn't say anything.

"Ah, Hermione. Or should I say Professor Weasley?" Dumbledore said, walking down the stairs and smiling.

She grinned. "Hermione will be fine, sir."

"Excellent. I'll just show you to your rooms, then. And Ron, it's wonderful to see you again." He shook Ron's hand and then moved to Harry, giving him an equally warm greeting. When the Headmaster turned to Mike and Ginny, however, he was confronted by two cold stares. Neither one offered him their hands.

There was an awkward silence, then Dumbledore cleared his throat and started back up the steps. "If you'll all just follow me…"

Ginny and Mike took up the rear of the procession. "Gin," Mike said, "can I ask you something?"

"Not if it's about Dumbledore," she answered, shifting the box in her hands to get a firmer grip.

"No," he said, although he was quite curious to know why she had given the Headmaster the same chilly reception as he. "You know Dana Silvermoon?"

"Of course. She's on my Auror team," Ginny replied. "Why?"

"I ran into her at the Ministry employee dining room last week, and I've been thinking of asking her to dinner."

Ginny hadn't the faintest idea of why he could be telling her this. She didn't care who he took to dinner. "How come? Has Harry asked her out?"

He laughed at that. "Not that I know of. I have a weakness for redheads."

She couldn't hold in a smile. "So what's the problem?"

Mike cleared his throat awkwardly. He knew this was a touchy subject. "It's Seamus."

Ginny was silent for a moment. Then, "What about him?"

"Do you think she'd say no? I mean, the two of them had been together for a long time."

"He's dead, Mike." Ginny's voice was flat and emotionless. "He's been dead for years. I think Dana has moved on."

"So you think she'd say yes?"

They reached the door of Ron and Hermione's new home. "I think it can't hurt to try."

Mike nodded, satisfied with her answer. "In that case, I'll let you know how it goes."

"You'd better," she said. "I want details."

* * * * *

August

Dana crept through the darkened corridors, unlit wand in hand. So far she'd been lucky. There didn't seem to be anyone around. She'd already looked through Seamus's file but it hadn't told her anything she didn't know. Now she needed to look elsewhere. She remembered Ron telling her that they hadn't managed to take anyone that day. Hopefully they'd managed to capture someone since then who'd known something.

When she reached the file room, Dana efficiently disabled the alarms and then cast a whispered "Alohomora." She'd been down here a few times on official business, and she'd paid close attention to how the superior officers circumvented the security measures.

Closing the door quietly, Dana finally raised her wand. "Lumos." The glow reflected off of the rows of cabinets. This was going to take a while. It was midnight; she had at least six hours before anyone else might come through.

The first few file cabinets were quickly dispensed with. After two hours, though, Dana's enthusiasm began to wane. Her eyes ached from reading in the dim light of her wand, and she began to tire. But the thought of revenge pressed her on.

Finally, after four and a half hours of sifting through files, Dana read something that made her blood run cold.

"It was my first major engagement since the Dark Lord returned." He was probably hiding out until he realized that the bastard wasn't going to be defeated right away, Dana thought.

"We were approached by one of the faithful."

Here the writing shifted as if the Quick Quotes Quill had tried to differentiate between the prisoner and his questioner. "We?"

Back to the original writing. "There were twenty of us. They wanted to make sure they had enough people." Well they certainly succeeded at that, Dana thought, remembering what the Aurors looked like when they came crashing through the Hogwarts doors.

"They told us to take down as many as we could, but that the one who got Seamus Finnigan would get a substantial reward." Dana felt the fire of her anger begin to smolder. It was a cold, calculated, Slytherin fury.

The writing changed once more. "How did they know which one was," here the writing faltered as if the speaker had choked on his words in grief, "Seamus Finnigan?"

Back to the original writing. "Someone gave us the name. I don't know who it was but they told us to look for the one called O'Darby. We were told that once he went down we were to start disapparating and take everyone with us. No prisoners."

Dana lowered her hands into her lap, crumpling the pages. It hadn't been a random ambush. It had been a cold and calculated murder. Someone had murdered Seamus, her Seamus, full of laughter and happiness and love. It had been on purpose. Turning back to the pages she smoothed them out and continued reading.

"When we got back, they said we'd done the job but I don't know who got the reward." From there, the file went on to list some of the other things this particular Death Eater had done. A final note in the file stated that he'd killed himself a year after being sent to Azkaban, which meant that she wouldn't get any more information from that source.

She sat on the floor for long minutes, lost in her thoughts. Finally, Dana stood and replaced the file in its drawer, then gave the room a once-over to make sure nothing was out of place. Extinguishing her wand, she left the room and reset the alarms but not before whispering in the dark, "I'll get them, Seamus. I promise."

* * * * *

September

The noise of the skirmish died down. Ginny wiped the sweat out of her eyes, leaving a smudge of dirt on her forehead. The members of her team all stared at their leader, shocked and a little frightened at the blankness of her gaze. She'd taken down seven Death Eaters all by herself. "Casualties?" she barked.

A young man cleared his throat. "They took Zalba."

Ginny showed no reaction to the loss of her second. She looked each Auror in the face and then announced, "Nimue, you'll take his position. Round the prisoners up and transport them." With a pop, she disapparated.

The Aurors all turned to Dana, looking to her for instructions. "But," she sputtered, "I've only been on the team for five months. I can't be promoted just like that."

"Promotions are given for talent, not seniority," said agent Saturn.

"But there's no paperwork," Dana protested. "It's not valid."

"It's called a battlefield promotion, done out of necessity. Jezebel got one herself, once. It's how she became Fletcher's second. The paperwork will be filed as soon as she gets the chance. Orders?"

At a loss, Dana looked at the stunned bodies that littered the ground. Her voice shook slightly as she said, "Start with the Portkeys. I'll take care of triage." She was agent Jezebel's second, just like that. She knew Ginny liked Zalba; how could her friend have taken his capture so casually? Subdued and worried by the loss of their friend, the team went about their work.

* * * * *

October

Frantically, the prisoner strained against his bonds. Dana had pulled out her wand, and was twirling it nonchalantly between her fingers. Suddenly, a ball of fire shot out and struck the table near his arm. Ginny let it burn a moment, and then casually doused it. "Did I get him?" Dana asked, a slightly disturbing glint in her eye.

"Um, no," Ginny answered. "He's only slightly singed. Better luck next time." She leaned in to the Death Eater and whispered conspiratorially, "No fear. She always calms down after the prisoner has confessed."

"Damn," Dana said, chagrined. "I guess I'll have to put in some more time on the firing range."

One of the departmental secretaries poked her head in the room. "Miss Cannon has just called to confirm your lunch date for one thirty."

Ginny thanked her, and then turned to the man bound to the chair. "If I'm going to meet my friend on time, I'm going to have to leave in ten minutes. No, nine minutes and thirty seconds. That's how much time you have to tell me everything before you're left alone with her."

A feral grin spread on Dana's face, "You can go ahead and leave now. I don't want you to be late."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Dana and then turned her attention back to the prisoner. "I'm on your side," she reassured. "Trust me, I don't want to leave you alone with her any more than you want to be left. But I can't help you unless you tell me everything."

"Th-th-they'll kill me," he stuttered.

"And I won't?" Dana asked, eyes blazing. She leveled her wand at him and said, "Do you know what I do to Death Eaters who are too cowardly to confess their dark activities?"

"I-I," he gulped and continued, "I don't know that much. They recruited us straight from school and we've only been allowed to do a couple of raids."

"A couple of raids," Ginny said encouragingly. "That's a start. Raids where, exactly? I'll need to know locations, and the names of anyone else who participated." Dana waved her wand and a sheet of paper and a quill floated over to the table. Ginny slid them over to the prisoner, and his bonds loosened enough for him to write. "I'll need it on paper, with your signature."

The man gulped. "You never said anything about putting it in writing."

"That's the law, my friend," Ginny replied. "If you cooperate, you won't go to prison. I'm leaving for lunch in four minutes. You hungry, Nimue?"

Dana shook her head. "I won't need a break for hours yet."

"Uh," the man gulped again, "okay I'll write it down but, could you make her leave please?" his voice got very small.

Dana laughed at that. "A prisoner actually requesting to be left alone with Agent Jezebel? That's a first."

Ginny almost laughed, but valiantly tamped it down. Dana continued, "She's about a thousand times more dangerous than I am, mate. But if you insist..." She reached for the doorknob and the prisoner shouted, "No!"

He'd heard that code name before, Jezebel. She was the most formidable Auror at the ministry, had brought in more Dark Wizards than the rest of them put together. She might be friendly right now, but that could change at any moment. And if it did, he most certainly did not want to be alone with her. Even this insane girl with gray eyes was preferable to the stories he'd heard about Jezebel.

Dana stalked over to the table and slapped her hands down, startling him. "Well then," she said in a silky voice, "you'd better start writing shouldn't you?"

"Right," the man sniveled, scribbling the information down as fast as he could. He only had three minutes left, after all.

"Could you at least attempt to make it legible, sir?" Ginny asked, drumming her fingers on the table.

The secretary poked her head in a second time. "Agent Jezebel, Agent Hermes would like a you to stop by his office sometime this afternoon."

"Agent Hermes is busy with his cushy desk job while we have to interview filth like this," Ginny sneered. "Tell him I'll stop by when I feel like it, and not a moment before." The Death Eater signed his name, and Ginny grabbed the paper away. Two agents came in and hauled the man to his feet.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, frightened.

"Enjoy Azkaban," Ginny answered dispassionately.

"But you said that I wouldn't go to prison if I cooperated!"

She arched an eyebrow. "And you were pretty stupid for believing me."

He looked furious, and terrified. The Aurors dragged him out of the room, and Dana cuffed Ginny on the back of the head. "What was that? I was being the bad cop!"

"I always have to be the good cop," Ginny protested. "It gets boring. So I broke character a little."

"The tactic is called good cop/bad cop, not bad cop/worse cop," Dana said.

"Then maybe we need to change tactics." Ginny swung on her cloak. "I'm seriously late for meeting Shannon. Can you tell Harry I won't be at this afternoon's briefing?"

"You can't be serious." Dana looked horrified; "You're going to leave me alone with him?"

"I hate going to his briefings. They're excruciating. I've never seen anyone worse at public speaking. He stutters, Dana. Tell him I'll be back later."

"What am I supposed to say?" Dana asked, "I swear he looks at me like I've hidden you away in my pocket every time I show up without you."

"Tell him that, then. Make sure you take a picture of his face."

Dana laughed and shook her head as she opened the door and waved her boss out, "I'll be sure to bring a camera then."

"I'll tell Shannon you said hi!" Ginny threw floo powder into the fireplace and disappeared with a whoosh.

Dana shook her head again and went in search of a camera she could borrow for the afternoon.

* * * * *

November

Ginny flipped through the file Dana offered. "This one is ready to talk?"

"So they say," she answered. "And you'll stick to the routine this time?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Bad cop/worse cop sounds like so much fun."

"It's a stupid idea. Why fix what isn't broken?"

"Because it's boring."

Dana sighed. "Fine. But I'll be the worse cop. You have to ease into these things slowly."

The interrogation started out easily enough. He was a prisoner heartily tired of Azkaban, ready to do anything to get out. They hadn't even shut the door before he began naming names. Ginny slid a parchment and quill across the table and he spoke aloud as he wrote. This Death Eater planned that attack, that Death Eater killed those Muggles, a third carried off a hit on an Auror.

The prisoner would have sworn he never saw her move but then next thing he felt was his head slamming against a wall and this tiny little thing was holding him physically off of the floor. The cold hatred in Dana's voice made him shiver involuntarily. "What," she asked, "did you just say?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. As the good cop, she'd normally step in at this point. But she wasn't sure what the bad cop was supposed to do. The dynamic was thrown off. Maybe Dana was right; this was kind of a stupid idea.

Dana trembled with barely suppressed rage. "I want you to repeat that," she bit the words off viciously, "because I want to make sure I heard it correctly."

Ginny frowned. Still, as the worse cop, it made sense that Dana would rough the man up a bit. And it wasn't as though he hadn't committed any crimes. His sleeve slipped down his arm as he clutched at Dana's grasp, revealing his Mark for all to see. No, Ginny would give Dana a bit of leeway on this one.

Thinking she should at least do something, Ginny leaned against the table and shot a curse. It hit the wall, chipping the paint right next to the prisoner's head. He whimpered. Ginny nodded in satisfaction. That had been a bad cop thing to do.

"W-Walden Mc-McNair was responsible for the death of Agent O'Darby." The prisoner was gibbering now and wasn't sure whether or not he was going to survive this.

Dana never took her eyes off his face as she asked, "Jezebel, correct me if I'm wrong but wasn't O'Darby Seamus's code name?" The air around her began to shimmer with magical energy.

Ginny straightened as it dawned on her that Dana was not acting the part of worse cop, but was truly enraged. "It was, Nimue." Now her wand was trained on Dana's back, in case the junior Auror went too far. The last thing she needed was one of her team killing someone in interrogation.

"Why?" Dana bit off. She knew he'd been targeted purposely but had no idea why. This was the first person they had captured who seemed to have any information.

"One," the man swallowed and started again, "one of the faithful told us that he was in the way of some plans that—" he clamped his lips together as if trying to keep the information in but Dana drew on her powers and dragged it out of him, "some plans that Malfoy was making over a girl he was recruiting."

Ginny walked around the table. "Agent Nimue, put him down." She didn't know what was going to come out of this man's mouth next, but instinct told her that if she were smart, she should do just about anything to keep him from saying it.

"Gladly," Dana said dropping the prisoner. Since he had been dangling about four inches above the floor, he knocked his head painfully on the wall behind him as he fell.

Ginny stood over him and spoke quietly to Dana. "He's just a minion; he'll never be able to give us someone in the inner circle." She rested her hand on Dana's shoulder for a moment. "But now at least you have a name."

Without any warning, Dana kicked the man, hard, in the stomach. He doubled over on the ground and groaned. Ginny said sharply, "Get the agents to take him to Azkaban. We don't assault people when they're down, Nimue. The next time something like this happens, you'll be at your desk for a month. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Dana bit off. She pushed the button that would call the retrieval agents and turned to the man on the floor. "You're lucky she's a damned Gryffindor you filthy bastard." Without waiting for Ginny, Dana walked out of the interrogation room, her back ramrod straight.

* * * * *

Dana walked into the untidy office. "You sent for me?"

Ginny crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "What the hell happened today?"

Dana put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Do you know why I became an Auror?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Dana hated that, when Ginny got in these moods and didn't talk. It was intimidating as hell, even though Dana would never admit it.

Dana steeled herself; she'd never told anyone this. Not even her sister. "Do you remember that day during my sixth year when you showed up at Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded, figuring that Dana was referring to the day Seamus had been killed.

Dana reached beneath the collar of her robes and pulled out a slender chain. There was a ring dangling at the end. White gold and a single ruby stone. She remembered what he'd said when he had given it to her. I got a ruby because it matches your hair. Besides you're brighter than any diamond ever found. She closed her eyes momentarily to contain the sudden burst of pain. "He'd come to see me just that weekend." She was whispering now even though there was no reason for it. "He said he wanted to wait until I was out of school to make it official, but he didn't want to wait to give me the ring."

Ginny drained her coffee cup and fought to keep her face expressionless. She'd had no idea that Dana and Seamus had been that serious.

"At first," she blinked trying to keep the tears from coming, "at first I just wanted the bastard caught. But then I went over the files to see if there was anything in them that could tell me who had done it." The tears were threatening to overwhelm her as she continued, "Then I found the report that said he'd been a deliberate target. The whole thing had been a setup just so they could get at him." She looked at Ginny, unable to continue.

Ginny's mind clicked along, puzzling out the information Dana had just shared. The prisoner had said Seamus was target because he was in the way of Draco's plan to recruit a girl. The only girl Ginny knew of whom Seamus had held influence over was Dana...but why would Malfoy have wanted her? He had to know about the Otherworldly power; that's all there was to it. And that meant that he very likely had already recruited Delia. Ginny itched to know, but it was a question she could never ask. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, "Don't think I'm insensitive to your situation. Seamus was my friend; I miss him too. But you can't let your emotions get in the way of doing your job."

"Gin, do you have any idea what it's like to have your choices taken away? He was my choice and he was taken away from me for a reason I still don't understand. All I want now is to know why." Tears were flowing freely now. "What was so important that they had to do this? Please understand."

"My situation is irrelevant," Ginny said, hardening herself to Dana's tears. If she showed any sympathy, the other Auror would truly break down, and would not thank Ginny afterward. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you." She knew full well why they had killed Seamus, but what could she say? Dana, Voldemort has been looking for me since I was fifteen years old, and he thinks you and your sister are just the pair to find me. That's why Seamus died. No, definitely not.

Dana wiped her face, "Look I'm sorry about what happened in the interrogation. I don't usually lose my temper like that but I guess you could say Seamus is my hot button." The ring dangled forgotten at the end of its chain.

Ginny lit a cigarette and offered the packet to Dana, who shook her head. "Those things'll kill you."

Ginny snorted with indelicate laughter. "You'd think, wouldn't you?" She exhaled a thin stream of gray-blue smoke and said, "I don't want you losing track of what it is you're doing here. Emotions cloud your judgment, and if you bring them on an operation you could jeopardize the entire thing. You're a good Auror, Dana, but you were too hotheaded in that interrogation. That kind of thing can't happen again."

Dana dragged in a deep lungful of air. Her hands were trembling, and she hid them behind her back. "Then help me. Help me find the answers to my questions so I can let go. Please, I'm asking you not just as a boss but as my friend. Help me find closure."

There was no way Ginny would ever help Dana find the answers to these questions. "Why?" she asked, stubbing out her fag. "So you can hunt down Walden McNair and take your revenge? This department is not your own personal vendetta bureau."

Dana laughed, a humorless sound, "A couple of years ago and that might have been true. Now?" She hesitated, then the words came out in a rush. "Now I'd be happy just to have him rot in Azkaban for the rest of his natural life."

"How diplomatic of you," Ginny observed.

"Hardly," Dana observed dryly. "I've been there. I figure that's worse then anything I can dream up."

The Slytherin was lying through her teeth. Ginny could see it. She'd kill McNair with her bare hands, given half a chance. "Doesn't it get tiring, Dana? Being so angry all the time?"

Dana eyed Ginny sadly. "You tell me. As bad as I am, you're a hundred times worse."

Dana fingered the ring for a moment then tucked it away. "Look, you'd better get going. Your Mum's expecting you for dinner. I've got a report to file then I'm going home."

As Dana spoke, Ginny stood and swung her cloak over her shoulders. "Owl my mum and tell her I'm not coming." Ginny felt rather volatile; she was in no mood to play happy daughter for her parents.

Dana started. "What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"Back to my flat. Remember what I said, Agent Nimue. Another outburst like that, and you'll be behind your desk for a month." Ginny grabbed her bag and left without looking back. Dana sighed. She should've known better than to say what she had. Nothing infuriated Ginny more than personal comments.

* * * * *

December

The transmitter in Ginny's ear shrieked loudly enough to make her temporarily deaf. There had been an explosion uncomfortably near to the strategic planners. The conflict was almost over. Death Eaters were disapparating with alarming speed, taking Auror prisoners along with them. This would be one for the loss column. They had been severely outnumbered.

Ginny turned from the field of battle and ran for the planners, thinking her brother might need some backup. Harry had the same idea. Together they raced through the snow toward the small shelter, its stone roof caved in and its walls crumbling. "Ron!" Harry yelled, moving the rocks as fast as he could. Ginny helped. She couldn't speak. Her throat didn't seem to work.

"I'm in here," her brother's voice came weakly. The two Aurors redoubled their efforts, using their wands to blast debris out of the way. On the other side of the cave in, they saw several planners out cold and Ron on his side, his arm twisted at an odd angle. "It's broken," Harry said. "Don't move."

"I'm okay," Ron said. "Don't look like that, Gin. I'm fine. Take care of them first."

All Ginny could do was nod. She bent down and revived a member of her brother's team, the incantation nothing more than a whisper as it left her lips. The woman stirred, and she moved on to the next one.

Harry ennervated a few as well, but paused over the third body he came to. "Gin, come here. The spell didn't work."

Ginny walked over to stand beside Andrew. She leaned down and pressed her fingers briefly to his neck, then stood, her eyes blank. "That's because he's dead." Without a pause, she continued reviving the rest.

"He can't be dead," Harry said. "His Portkey would've sent him to St. Mungo's." Every Auror was issued a Portkey designed to take the wearer straight to the magical hospital in the event of a life-threatening injury. He checked Andrew's belt; the Portkey was there.

"It wouldn't have if he died instantly," Ginny said flatly, ennervating another planner.

"He's your friend," Ron exclaimed, staring at his sister as though he didn't recognize her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She didn't turn, but snapped, "I'm being an Auror, Ron. If you two will excuse me, I have to go arrange triage."

Ron caught Harry's eye. "Go talk to her. One of them will send me back to the division," he said, gesturing to his teammates, his face white with pain and concern for his sister.

"You're all right?" Harry asked, giving his friend a warming charm.

"I'm fine. She's not."

He nodded and, with one last glance at Ron, Harry took off after her. "Gin, wait up."

"I don't have time for this," she said brusquely, not slowing down her pace.

"You do," he insisted, grabbing her arm.

She turned her cold gaze on him. "Let go of me."

He didn't. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. Agent Eagle was killed in the line of duty. He'll receive Order of Merlin, Second Class at the least, which will give his mother a vast amount of comfort, I'm sure."

"Gin," he asked tentatively, "were you and he together?"

She wrenched out of his grip. "That's none of your goddamned business, Agent Midas. You have work to do. I suggest you do it."

You can't just shut me out, he insisted. I want to help you.

I don't need your help, she hissed. I need you to leave me alone so I can do my job. She turned to an Auror who lay in the snow, felled by a broken ankle. Harry watched her aim her wand and recite a healing charm, but it shot out with an astonishing velocity, striking the man's foot and jerking his leg to the side. The crack of his tibia sent a shiver up Ginny's spine. She stared, open-mouthed, at her wand, and then turned and ran, floundering in the snow. The one glimpse Harry caught of her face revealed the panic and absolute horror in her eyes.

* * * * *

That night, Ginny sat in her office long after everyone had gone home. She held a flat metal disk, three inches in diameter, in the palm of her hand. It had a hole in the center and several runes etched around the edges, investing it with power. She could feel its magic against her hand.

Her mind a bleak void, Ginny set the disk down onto her desk, pulled out her wand, and recited an incantation. When she picked the disk up a second time its power was gone, drained by her spell. Ginny opened her desk drawer and deliberately placed it inside, and then used the floo network to get home.

Once inside her flat, Ginny went straight to her bedroom, tripping over a pile of books in the entryway. She found the long, thin box that had been hers ever since she was eleven, put her wand inside, and threw it into the back of her closet. Then she sank down on the floor and stared straight ahead, unseeing, unthinking, her entire being focused on not losing her control.

She would not cry.

* * *

To be continued in Galatea…coming soon to a website near you. And even sooner to a yahoo group near you. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon – you'd fit right in!

Co-author credit goes to Danette for the scene with Dana in the file room, the Ginny/Dana interrogation scenes, and the confrontation afterwards in Ginny's office. You rock, Danette. Harry's toast in year four is modified from a toast at www.thebestman.com. I forgot to give it credit in the last A/N.

The fic has now ended.