Pieces

Author’s Notes: A few things before I begin. The companion fic to the Who? Trilogy has the first part posted on both The Smutty Project (username SunshineSamantha) and Restricted Section (username SunshineFanFics). When the last part is written and posted, I will indicate that when I post to this fic. Remember, you must be over 18 to access either site, and you must get a free membership.

Secondly, the chapters will be short to begin with because I’ve had trouble with posting, so to make the story show up on the updated list, I have to have at least three chapters. More will be coming. Just know that this is going to be far shorter and fluff-filled. Angsty, yes, but fluffy, definitely. Much love and Tom Feltons to where_is_truth and rainpuddle13, my betas. Please understand the first three chapters are unbetaed, any and all mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to push that review button.

Flying. Sick pull behind her navel. Falling haphazardly through tall trees whose branches scored her skin. Wounds reopened. Crashing to the ground and mercifully passing out.

***

The crunch of leaves stirred Ginny. Her pounding head could make out two muffled female voices, one clearly older and the other clearly younger. A warm hand tenderly brushed dirt off her cheek and the older voice asked her what her name was.

The pain. The pain of her shredded abdomen was excruciating.

Can’t let them see it. Her fuddled mind halfheartedly whispered a healing spell she knew was worthless without her wand.

“Honey? Can you hear me? My daughter’s getting you a blanket, okay, and we’ve called for help. You just sit tight, you hear?”

Dimly, Ginny realized she was nude. Seconds later, her head began to clear and the only thing she could think was that this woman was from the American south. She recalled meeting a southern witch once at the Ministry, and she’d been taken with how lovely her voice was.

This woman sounded much the same and Ginny relaxed a bit.

“Where, er, where am I?” Ginny croaked, clearing her parched and swollen throat.

The woman sounded relieved that Ginny was at least able to speak. “You’re on the hiking trails at the Wilderness Lodge,” she said. “Do you remember how you got here?”

Unfortunately, I do. And there’s no magic here. I can feel it.

“Uh, no, not at the moment,” she rasped.

“I’m going to sit here and talk to you until my daughter comes back with the blanket, okay? My name is Fran.”

“I’m Ginny,” she said, glad that at least Fran was there to talk to.

“My daughter and I were hiking and we saw you, Ginny, all curled up here in the leaves. Now I don’t want you to move, but it looks like you’re all right, but we still called the paramedics.”

Paramedics? Mediwizards?

“Here’s Stacie now with that blanket.” Ginny turned her head and saw a pretty young girl about twelve years old rush up breathlessly and hand a fuzzy blanket to her mother.

“Daddy called the police,” Stacie said excitedly. “I think the ambulance is on its way!”

As if on cue, a blaring noise filled the small clearing. Fran hurriedly wrapped the blanket around Ginny. Ginny took a second to assess herself under the blanket.

Lucius’ cuts are gone. I didn’t just do wandless magic, did I?

Three men and one woman rushed into the clearing. One man was dressed casually and Ginny guessed he was Fran’s husband. The other two men and woman were in dark blue uniforms and were towing a rolling metal table behind them.

Fran and Stacie backed away from Ginny as the female paramedic dropped to the ground next to Ginny.

“She said her name is Ginny,” Fran offered. The paramedic smiled at Fran and turned back to Ginny.

“Okay, Miss Ginny, I’m Melissa and these here are my partners Jim and Robert. We’re going to take you to the hospital and make sure you’re all right.”

The hospital? Somehow I have the feeling there aren’t going to be any wizarding folk there…

Draco Malfoy had spent ten days alongside Harry Potter in St. Mungo’s. Both were treated for exhaustion. Harry required extra care for several nasty burns and gashes he received while dispatching Voldemort to the seven hells. Draco, on the other hand, was getting psychological treatment at the request of Professor Dumbledore and magical surgery to heal his maimed abdomen.

It had all happened so quickly.

***

When he turned around to address the chaos behind him, he saw only two things: Death Eaters trying to escape without fighting, being caught easily by the still-standing Aurors and Snape.

Ron Weasley, running toward him like a streak of red, his father’s silver-topped wand in his hands. Weasley pushed him out of the way and dropped to his knees by Lucius’ face.

“You fucking bastard, tell me where my sister is!” Ron screeched, breaking Lucius’ wand over his knee before Draco could reach out to stop him.

As if realizing what he had done, Ron turned to Draco, his eyes large and fearful. Neither of them saw Lucius drift to the otherworld with a smug smile on his face.
When the wand cracked, when the dragon’s heartstring slithered to the floor, the cloaking spell around Ginny Weasley broke violently and she screamed as she was ejected from Lucius’ conjured shackles and propelled towards the floor.

Draco only had time to see her fall on a small object and disappear.
In a fit of hellish rage, he hauled Ron off the ground and pulled him to full height, grabbing him roughly by the shirt and forcing their faces together so hard their noses slammed into one another.

“You broke his fucking wand! You fucking idiot!” he screamed, spittle flying and spattering a terrified Ron’s cheeks. “If he did something to her, we can’t fix it without his wand!”

Shoving Ron forcefully to the floor, Draco fell sharply to his knees and let out a primal scream that rumbled in his chest and seemed to be ripped out of his throat.
“I’m sorry!” he cried to the room at large. “I loved her and I couldn’t help her!”

***

Draco remembered being pulled off Ron Weasley after he had screamed and cried for Ginny on the bloody stone floor of his father’s dungeon. Professor Snape and Arthur Weasley separated them before a blinded-by-rage Draco could beat Ron to a pulp.

Dumbledore had helped a limping and dazed Harry Potter out of the adjoining dungeon. When questioned that day and any time since, he spoke only one sentence.

“Someone once told me to kill I had to mean it, and I meant it this time.”

Nymphadora Tonks quietly took charge of her cousin’s ruined life. She and Kingsley Shacklebolt saw to it the jeweled dagger that had wrought so much destruction was removed from the body of the eternally smug Lucius Malfoy and destroyed.

Since no Malfoy claimed the body in the requisite three days, Tonks and Shacklebolt were the only witnesses to the Muggle-style cremation of Lucius, ensuring he could never haunt or hurt again. During a lucid moment at St. Mungo’s, Draco requested the ashes be thrown in the nearest bottomless pit.

Hermione was being lauded for her crucial discovery of the medieval spells Lucius Malfoy had used that day, and consequently was fielding several job offers.

Narcissa Malfoy was making great strides in her treatment. After being relieved of the version of Imperius Lucius had cast on her, she sent a thank you note to Ron Weasley and requested his presence at her home for tea when she was released from St. Mungo’s.

Huge big gaping disclaimer: I declare that I know nothing about the judicial, hospital, or employment systems I attempt to depict herein. All criticisms will be thrown out with the bathwater. Remember, this is smutty fluff and I can use whatever plot devices tickle my fancy. Also, Draco’s timeline is ahead of Ginny’s by about three weeks in this chapter. Read closely in following chapters to understand how she catches up.

Sweat dripping into his eyes, an uncharacteristically mussed Ollivander hunched desperately over Lucius Malfoy’s decimated wand, attempting to painstakingly repair it.

He’d had a spot of luck in these things over the years, but the wands had never been so completely shattered or as innately evil as the instrument he hoped he’d never see again.

With Aurors, the entire Weasley clan and one Draco Malfoy breathing down his neck, Ollivander hoped he could do some good for the poor missing girl. He remembered her wand clearly. Especially good for hexing, he recalled. Smiling ruefully, he concentrated on mending individual splinters as the dragon’s heartstring quivered delicately on a table beside him.

***

“What do you mean you have no idea where she is?” Draco fumed, pacing in front of his bedroom’s fireplace. He’d been confined to Malfoy Manor for nearly two weeks now, bringing the total amount of time he’d been out of commission to three weeks and one day. “I thought that was why you bloody fucking Aurors had work!”

“You’d best calm yourself down, cousin,” Tonks seethed on the other side of the Floo flames. He would never get used to her calling him that. After so many years of being forced to shun his mother’s relation, he was having a hard time reconciling her line of work with his family’s reputation.

“Do you think we’re just standing around? Half of it is due to the bloody git Weasley,” Tonks said, “him breaking your father’s wand like that. I hear Ollivander hasn’t slept in five days trying to put it back together. Moody is hoping we can do a priori incantatem.”

Draco had no immediate response. The forced time-out had given him more than enough time to replay the horrible events over and over again in his mind. Though he would rather cut off his own fingers with a dull knife than admit it, had he been in Ron’s position he didn’t know if he wouldn’t have broken his father’s wand as well.

After his release from St. Mungo’s, the first people he had seen were a gaggle of Weasleys. He’d had to blink, their hair was so bright.

“Draco! Are you all right?” Molly Weasley gushed helplessly, rushing forward and crushing him to her like a little boy. “I was so worried about you!”

“Mmmphglurg,” Draco managed, trying to break out of her embrace. She released him and he straightened himself, trying to figure out what was going on.

“They wouldn’t let us in to see you,” she carried on. “You’ve lost weight.” The incredulous look Draco gave the Weasley matriarch wasn’t lost on her husband.

“What Molly is trying to say, Draco, is that we’ve been waiting for you to be released so you can help us look for Ginny.”

He hadn’t known, up until that point, his princess was still missing. When he had asked for her, both in delirium and in clarity, the mediwitches ignored him and gave him sleeping draughts.

A cold chill crept down his spine and his pale face reddened.

“It’s my fault she’s gone,” Ron Weasley piped up, stepping through the veritable crowd and leveling his gaze with Draco’s. “And I intend to help you find her.”

For once Draco couldn’t muster the necessary rage to insult and berate Ron, and nodded. The clammy, sickly wave that swept him settled deep in his stomach; Draco knowing it wouldn’t leave until she was found.

***

“Found her on the grounds…”

“Not wearing a stitch…”

“Delirious, dehydrated…”

“English, too.”

Ginny woke suddenly a few hours later, lying with her wrists bound to a strange metal bed and thin, clear tubes attached with tape to her wrists. A shrill, panicked scream escaped her and she began to tussle with her restraints.

“Get me out of here!” she shrieked, drawing the attention of several white-coated women outside her door.

“Honey, honey, calm down…”

“Her pulse is racing…”

“She’s going to tear that line out, Liz, watch her.”

A black woman with dozens of tiny braids leaned over Ginny and clamped powerful hands over her struggling form.

“Miss, you’re going to hurt yourself,” the woman said firmly, pressing down enough to get Ginny’s attention.

“You’re in the hospital and you needed some help, okay. My name is Shay and I’m going to help you, but only if you calm down. You understand?”

Shay was struck by the frantic chocolate brown eyes and how the girl looked at ordinary objects as if she had never seen them before. Unrelenting, Shay repeated herself until the girl (whose chart named her as “Jenny”) began to calm. Shay cast a glance at Liz, who was busily repairing Jenny’s saline drip.

“Now, that’s better,” Shay said diffidently, as if nothing had happened. “See?”

Ginny stared at the woman for a moment, then tentatively nodded her head.

“Can you tell me what happened to you, Jenny?” Shay asked.

“Ginny, G-I-N-N-Y,” Ginny absently corrected her, the way she did everyone who always forgot the youngest Weasley’s name.

“Well, then, Ginny, do you know how you came to be here?”

As a matter of fact, I wish I didn’t.

Play dumb. “Erm, no, I don’t. I was hoping you could tell me,” Ginny said, attempting a weak chuckle, hoping that this ridiculous scene would end with Draco or someone equally heroic coming in to save her.

“You don’t remember any of the events leading up to now?” Shay probed.

“No, I’m a bit muzzy, really,” Ginny replied desperately.

“You don’t remember arriving on vacation, who you’re staying with, any of that?”

Referring to this heinous accident as vacation made Ginny’s blood boil.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know,” Ginny replied frostily, “and perhaps I’ll remember bits and pieces along the way.”

Shay was nonplussed by her ward’s sudden change in demeanor.

“A mother and daughter hiking found you on the trails at the Wilderness Lodge. They reported you appeared to be unconscious and were nude.” Ginny flinched at the embarrassing thought.

“Yes, yes, I remember that. Go on.”

“The paramedics were called, and you were brought here, and you had been resting quietly until just a few moments ago. That’s all we know. There’s been a TV news van outside all afternoon,” Shay continued. “Wanting to know how a nude girl turned up at Walt Disney World.” Ginny gawked. Her somewhat limited Muggle knowledge told her that this “news van” probably wasn’t a good thing.

“Where did you say I was again?”

Shay regarded her evenly.

“You’re in Orlando, Florida, in the United States, and we found you inside the grounds of Walt Disney World.”

“Walt Disney World?” Ginny asked quizzically. She didn’t know there was a kingdom inside the States.

“Yeah,” Shay said. “You know, the most magical place on Earth.”

Author’s Note – First and foremost I’d like to thank the tireless reviewers who continually badgered me for the next chapter of Pieces. Here it is.

However, in the time since I last updated, I have finished the companion fic to this. It bridges Cut and Pieces, though it takes place between Snape, Narcissa and Lucius before Draco is born in 1980 and contains NO D/G. It is NC17, and has some warnings. I’d suggest you read it if you want to understand the background of some of the information I am about to present in this chapter. Because I couldn’t fit the entire thing into one LiveJournal entry, you can visit the first part here and the end here. It is called Everything I Wanted. I’m very proud of it, and I sure would like for you to leave some reviews on my HP fanfic LJ.

Also, many thanks to Where_Is_Truth, my tireless plot-bouncer-offer. Here’s her LiveJournal where you can read some excellent NC17 fic that isn’t posted here. If you have a LJ, feel free to friend me. It’s a good way to get updates about what I’m doing. And I LOVE comments! If you haven’t already, don’t forget to sign up for my author/chapter alerts here on PK.

***

***

***

After spending his first weary night alone at Malfoy Manor, his next order of business was to visit his mother. He knew only that she was awake and alert, and of all things had sent a thank-you card to that thick-headed brother of Ginny’s.

Ginny. His mother didn’t know about her. What would she say, in her newly-recovered state, about his love? That was part and parcel of his trip today, the urge to reveal his emotions to the one woman who had always believed in and loved him.

Tiredly, Draco stepped out of his bedchamber and nearly smacked into one of the Aurors who had flooded the Manor. They were systematically checking for spells that could have shipped off Ginny, but so far, as he understood, there were a lot of nasty wards and old spells guarding portions of the Manor he hadn’t even known existed.

Descending the stairs, he found his cousin Nymphadora sporting a frighteningly orange mop of hair.

“Where are you going?” she queried.

“To see Mother,” he said stiffly, unused to relating his affairs to anyone other than himself.

“Don’t be gone too long,” she said. “I think they need you before they can go into your father’s study. Apparently they think only you or your mother can break the ward on the door.”

“My mother is in no condition to cooperate with this investigation,” Draco retorted hotly. “She’s just come out from under years of a torturous spell and you want to make her work?”

Tonks stepped up to her much taller cousin and poked a finger roughly into his sternum.

“Listen here,” she snapped, punctuating with repeated stabs of her fingertip. “I’m just telling you what my co-workers told me, okay? It’s not my fault you had a scheming bastard of a father who thought nothing of driving his wife crazy and trying to make his son the next leader of the Death Eaters. So fuck off and do what I say when I say and we’ll get this thing taken care of and Ginny back where she belongs. Understand?”

“Fine,” Draco snapped back. “Just so you understand this is my house now and once this is over I’ll thank you to get the hell out of here and go back to your Muggle-loving squalor.”

Her shocked face pinked as he waved his wand and Disapparated.

***

“I’m here to see Narcissa Malfoy,” Draco told the charmed, unobtrusive entrance to St. Mungo’s. It shimmered and admitted him, and he took the lift up to the Mental Maladies ward. As he approached his mother’s private room, he heard soft voices from within. Brightening, he quickened his steps. He had hoped to catch one of the mediwizards and hear her updated diagnosis.

No one could have prepared him for the tableau spread before him. His mother, pale but animated, was smiling broadly at Severus Snape, who held her delicate hand in his and was in the act of brushing a kiss on it.

His first conversation with his mother in several years began somewhat crudely.

“What the fuck?”

***

“Ginny, it’s time to wake up,” her roommate Lauren said softly, shaking her shoulder.

Attempting to acknowledge Lauren was harder than Ginny thought it would be. She was so bone weary her eyes were definitely not cooperating on the opening idea, eye crusties not withstanding.

“We go to be interviewed today,” Lauren said, sitting down and bouncing softly on Ginny’s lower bunk. “Come on, you promised I could braid your hair.”

For the first time in the three weeks and two days she had been in the United States, Ginny managed a genuine smile and made a concerted effort to speak clearly.

“I did promise. Let me get a shower and you can help me,” Ginny said, yawning and stretching.

Lauren nodded and went to gather her own shower accessories, and Ginny escaped her bunk without hitting her head. Padding softly over to her bathrobe and shower basket, Ginny followed Lauren out the door with the cavalcade of women who were also beginning their day in the Orange County Women’s Refuge.

While at the hospital, she’d been poked, prodded, and examined in every way possible. It became a laughable routine, every other day, when the doctor assigned to her case came into her room and tried to pry information out of her.

After her first demoralizing and terrifying day in the emergency room, she’d been transferred to the psychiatric ward after she was pronounced in good health. It was quiet there, and she liked it, relatively speaking, except for when sedated patients were wheeled past her door. Looking at all the blank, unresponsive faces chilled her.

Dr. Magee, a kindly, large woman in her late fifties, was in charge of determining Ginny Weasley’s exact diagnosis. After thirteen days of endless tests, Dr. Magee determined that Ms. Weasley had no mental deficiencies, no brain damage, and nothing that should have impeded her body’s processes. The girl was adamant that she could not remember her home address, the city she hailed from in Britain or any other pertinent information that might have aided in returning her home.

The general consensus was that Ginny Weasley was suffering from hysterical amnesia, a form of the condition that was usually temporary and induced by a massive emotional or physical trauma. And until that amnesia receded, there was nothing more that could be done for her at the hospital.

Thus she was bundled off with new clothes and toiletries to the rather institutional Orange County Women’s Refuge. As Ginny learned from her roommate, Lauren Martin (herself a young mother and recovering alcoholic), the Refuge was called a halfway house, and the inhabitants were sent there to learn life and job skills that would aide them in returning to normal life. Ginny was to remain there until her wits returned or someone reported her missing.

In fact, many of the young ladies were in situations similar to Lauren’s, and were working hard to go back home, or to see their children. The atmosphere was generally cheery, in contrast to Lauren’s dark depiction of the women’s prison in which she had been incarcerated previously.

Today was a big day for eight women, including Ginny and Lauren. After they were made presentable, they were going to interview with the human resources staff at the very place Ginny had made her ignominious entrance into the Muggle world. Walt Disney World needed some menial workers and decided hiring from the Refuge was just the thing to help boost their local image. Excited Refuge workers had plucked the eight based on their education and level of rehabilitation, save for Ginny. Ginny was under the distinct impression she’d been chosen because her British accent in this harsh-spoken world made her seem a bit posh.

Whatever it was, Ginny was interested to see this “magical” place.

***

“Draco, er, I,” Snape stammered, marking one of the few times Draco recalled Snape calling him by his first name and certainly the first time the man had stuttered.

“Draco, love!” Narcissa exclaimed. “Come here and let me hug you!”

Rooted to the spot, Draco merely stared at them. His mother turned stern.

“Come here,” she commanded, and it was shaded just enough with tones he remembered her using when he’d been a boy that it made him walk forward. She held out thin arms and wrapped them around her son’s tall frame.

“My Sun Prince,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m so proud of you for standing up to Lucius.”

Still a bit bewildered, he disengaged himself from his mother’s arms and suddenly became very protective of his frail mum.

“Professor,” Draco stated clearly, though his mind was muddied, “what are you doing here?”

Narcissa Malfoy could see the cold barrier coming up in her son and swatted at his hand.

“Sit down, Draco, and for Merlin’s sake quit acting like Severus was mauling me,” Narcissa drawled, instinctively knowing why her son appeared so miffed.

“Draco,” Snape began, purposely refraining from calling him Mr. Malfoy, as in this situation it reminded him uncomfortably of Lucius.

Narcissa waved an elegant hand dismissively. “Let me, Severus, please. I’ve a dearth of words to make up for, and I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to explain.”

Snape nodded silently and Draco was secretly awed by his mother’s bravado. He’d never seen the fearsome potions master quieted so effectively.

“I want to thank you, Draco, for visiting me when I could not reply. One of the effects of this particular spell your father cast was that I was fully aware of my surroundings but had to endure in silence. I appreciate you reading the society section of the Prophet to me all those many times.”

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you, but I’ve been able to follow your progress, thanks to Severus. You see,” Narcissa said, her voice lowering and a warm smile gracing her lips, “Severus brought me a Pensieve full of your Quidditch games and perfect Potions exams. I saw your Head Boy badge before you did and got to see you graduate.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow in his professor’s direction but Snape had turned away toward the window, as if he couldn’t bear to face this earnestly spoken praise.

“Don’t worry, Draco, Severus had no idea I knew he was here either. But just as you did, he continued to visit me. Consequently, I am fully aware of what happened at the Manor some weeks ago.”

Draco bowed his head in shame, his mother’s plainly spoken acknowledgement of his patricide hanging in the air.

Author's Note: My apologies for the huge delay. I'm in a writerly mood, and thus you get some Pieces. All of this is on-the-spot betaed courtesy of Clanmalfoy and Where_Is_Truth. I hope you like this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“So, Miss, er, Weasley…you say you have some medical background?” the interviewer asked hesitantly.

“Yes, sir. I'm well-versed in first aid and response,” Ginny said, remembering to omit the word “muggle” from her sentence, and secretly glad Madam Pomfrey had taught her such things.

“We weren't necessarily looking for a first-aid worker, you understand,” the interviewer said, pausing to shuffle some papers, “but one of our nurses went on maternity leave. It would be nice to at least have someone who could treat the sunburns, cuts and scrapes that we get so the other nurses can concentrate on anything more severe.”

Ginny nodded. From what she could tell, the only other jobs being offered were in serving food to the masses and cleaning up after them. Neither interested her very much, and she hadn't held out much hope for a better job.

It wasn't until she had been filling out the questionnaire that she saw a blank space where she could write her other qualifications. Hurriedly she scribbled her first-aid knowledge and it was the first thing the florid interviewer had picked up on.

“You'll have to take some tests to qualify, as we can't exactly determine the veracity of your schooling and training,” the man said somewhat snidely, “but you're the only one out of the whole lot who has any medical experience.”

“I'd be happy to take any tests,” Ginny said, smiling tightly and trying not to let the brash American's wandering eyes bother her. “I'd be happy to have something to take my mind off my ordeal.”

The man nodded briskly. “Tell your warden that you're to report to the testing room. The attendant will set you up with the first-aid certification tests. You do know CPR, right?”

The muggle abbreviation caught her off guard, and she belatedly remembered it had to do with manually resuscitating a patient. Frightfully rough, Ginny thought, as a wand to the chest to inflate the lungs and promote air flow didn't break any ribs.

“Ah, yes, but I'm not certified,” she said. “Is there any way to prove my skills?”

“We have a dummy in the closet just off the testing room. You can work on him.”

Ginny nodded, thinking it was awfully cruel to keep an unintelligent person in a cupboard only to be brought out to be thumped on.

***

Draco waited for his mother to break down in tears, berate him, something. You didn't just kill someone's husband, your own father, without some sort of repercussions.

Narcissa reached out her hand, cupping Draco's cheek.

“Your father and I were dead to one another long before you were born,” his mother told him softly. “I'm sorry it had to be you who stopped him.”

Her words, free of anger and full of love, broke him. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he was somewhat awkwardly folded into his mother's embrace.

“I didn't want that to happen,” Draco blurted into her fragrant skin. “He was going to kill her!”

And then he froze. His mother's hand continued unabated, stroking her son's platinum hair.

“I know, darling. I know.”

Severus Snape knew when to make an exit. And he silently left his former pupil sobbing in his mother's arms.

***

“Did P-p-professor Snape tell you?” Draco nearly blubbered, awash in relief that his mother hadn't hexed him to kingdom come.

“Inadvertently, he did,” Narcissa admitted. “He was showing me your training and mentioned something about you keeping your mind off the Weasley girl and on your task.”

Draco felt his face grow hot as he recalled exactly what he had been thinking about in reference to that Weasley girl.

“When my curse was lifted, Severus was the first to visit. He felt obligated to tell me that Lucius was gone, and what exactly had transpired,” Narcissa continued, still stroking Draco's hair as he tried to calm himself.

“Severus found out later from Aurors interviewing the captured Death Eaters what had happened to Miss Weasley, and you, while in the dungeon. When I found out the vile things Lucius had planned…” she trailed off, a shudder plainly coursing through her. Narcissa shook her head as if to clear cobwebs, and began on a different tack.

“I asked Severus to show her to me. He provided a Pensieve of her in Advanced Potions. Despite all that red hair, she's a beautiful little thing.”

Shocked to his toes, Draco righted himself as if a fire had been lit underneath him.

“You don't hate her?” spilled out of his mouth. His mother narrowed her crystal blue eyes at him and frowned.

“Perhaps you're confusing me with your father,” she said coldly. “Though I favor purebloods to muggle-borns and lovers, she has done nothing to me, and is in fact distant family. You've obviously forgotten that I taught you our family tree, Draco. Molly Prewitt Weasley is a near cousin to the late Sirius Black.”

Taken aback, Draco stuttered as badly as his startled Potions professor had.

“I mean, uh, I thought that you…”

“Well, you didn't think,” Narcissa said. “If you love someone enough to defy and ultimately kill your father over, that's not an emotion to be trifled with.”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said, still bowled over with her response and unable to say much else.

“As I understand it, she's still missing. Is that true?” Narcissa asked, her voice softening.

The lump that formed in Draco's throat prevented him from answering immediately. His mother's lips formed a small smile, and she reached out pale hands to grasp his own.

“Draco, love, I'll be coming home to the Manor within the week. Don't worry about me. Severus has volunteered to assist me here and in my transition home. I think your sole priority, at this point, should be finding Miss Weasley, because I want to meet her.”

***

It was very late afternoon before Ginny, Lauren, and the six other interviewees returned to their rooms at the Refuge. Ginny had passed her CPR certification, and was gratified to learn that her initial idea of the “dummy” wasn't a person at all.

She passed her test with flying colors and was accepted onto the first aid staff. Though her first day on the job wouldn't be for another few days, she was nevertheless excited and ready to do something to pass the time.

The day's excursion had left her hot and sweaty, the sweltering Florida sun beating mercilessly against their heads and inside their un-airconditioned vehicle to and from the interview site. She'd already taken a shower, and returned to her room.

The fact that it was the first time she had been alone since she'd been admitted didn't escape Ginny. A short, hysterical bark of laughter left her and she considered for the first time her physical appearance, naked and in front of the mirror.

The vicious slashes and vile lettering carved into her abdomen by Draco's father were gone. No traces whatsoever. And as her eyes wandered as slowly as they dared from her flat belly to her breasts and above, she noticed the tiny red heart, a tireless reminder of the binding spell, sitting unmolested atop her own quickly beating heart.

Memories of the night she shared with Draco flooded her mind's eye, and she found herself suddenly battling tears that had been bottled up three weeks too long. She was scared he would never find her. She was terrified he hadn't survived that forsaken dungeon. Most of all, she was sure she would never feel his strong, reassuring presence next to her again.

Hot trails of tears seeped from her eyes, ran in rivulets down her reddened cheeks and dripped slowly onto her heaving, sobbing breasts.

Perhaps, she thought sadly, it was better to sleep and forget than wake and remember. Pulling on her Refuge-issued sweatpants and tee shirt, she retreated to her bed and turned her face to the wall, willing sleep to come and take her away. Her last conscious thought was of lying next to Draco in his bed at Hogwarts, warm and secure.

***

When Draco arrived at the Manor, the hour had grown late. He'd frittered away the afternoon at a dive that was seedy even by Knockturn Alley standards. Gulp after gulp of Ogden's went down his gullet, the burn serving as his only indication he was alive.

He never did ascertain the reason he was drinking. His mother was fine, he had Nymphadora and Professor Snape to help him peripherally (and he was going to have to sit and do some thinking about this Snape thing, when his head was clearer) and the best British Aurors were tracking down Ginny.

And perhaps that was it. They were merely tracking, and every damn tracking spell led in some ridiculously circuitous route and ended right in the confines of Malfoy Manor. His father had been a sneaky and frighteningly cunning bastard with those spells.

He staggered into his bedroom, having fallen unceremoniously from the Floo. Flopping on the bed, a half-hearted swish of his wand summoned a small vial of sobering draught. Having some trouble unstopping it, he finally set his teeth to it and came away with nasty flakes of moldering cork in his mouth. He spat on the floor, oblivious to the Aubusson carpet on his side.

Bottoms up, and ten minutes later he found himself thinking far too clearly and fielding a Quidditch game with rogue Bludgers in his head. Pulling his weary body from the soft bed, Draco made his way into the adjoining bathroom to pop an additional vial of headache remedy and bathe the smoke from the bar from his body. Shedding his clothing in a pile, Draco turned toward the sunken marble tub that dominated his bathroom, when a flash of red caught his eye.

The red heart over his own heart had healed perfectly since his father had tried to carve it out of his chest some weeks ago. But the thin, still-livid scars spelling out “blood traitor” were like beacons on his abdomen. Ruefully he touched them, wondering if Ginny had gotten any care after she disappeared. Did she land somewhere magical? Was she even alive? She had been in a bad, bad way when he had seen her last.

Looking at the physical reminder of their binding spell made his eyes sting with tears. Standing still for a moment, he watched the salt of his tears make their way down his face in sparkling tracks. He turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on his face to calm down, to wash away the evidence. That being finished, he sank gratefully into the tub and soaked.

***

It was snowing and he was waiting for her in their secret spot down by the lake at Hogwarts. He allowed the snowflakes and blustery wind to chill him, because he knew she would warm him from the inside out.

His eyes caught movement from the side and he saw her bounding toward him, her hair flying, face red, and the fur-lined cloak he had given her wrapped tightly around her person. Their eyes met, and he smiled, and she smiled, and picked up her pace.

And then she fell. Fell flat on her pretty face and snub nose and he couldn't stop laughing, laughing like his gut was going to burst. He ran over to her, where she was unceremoniously wiping snow out of her ears and he laughed more. She tried to be mad at him for guffawing, but the pleasure of seeing him with mirth in his eyes was well worth her unexpected pratfall.

And so she pulled him down, knocking his long legs out from under him, playfully shoving snow in his face. And it was her turn to make fun of him, and she did, while he tried every line of righteous indignation he knew until he ran out of things to say.

“Let me help,” she said softly, sitting up to lick the snow out of his left ear, pushing the tendrils of damp hair away from his face. And he simply held on to her, succumbing to the pure joy of letting her love him, and finally being comfortable to just let her do it.

She kissed him for a long time after she stopped teasing his ear. It was never more than light touches, lightning-quick flicks of the tongue and soft suckling of the lips. He couldn't remember a time like this soft foreplay, and wondered why they hadn't done this before.

He began to return the favor, trailing soft fingertips over the shells of her ears and tunneling gently through her tangle of red waves. Knowing she loved the tactile feeling spurred him on, and he repeated the soothing motions until she was a moaning puddle in his fingers.

“Let's go down to the lake, Princess,” he said, his voice faintly pleading.

“Hmm,” she pondered. “Let's just stay here.”

“But everyone in the castle can see us,” he protested lightly.

She turned to him, her expression wan and wistful at the same time.

“No one can see us now, Draco.”

Though he didn't understand, something inside his heart sang, thinking of the two of them, together, with no one looking over their shoulders, no one disapproving.

In unison they shed their outer cloaks, arranging them in the little valley they'd created in the snow. Sensing she needed to be held, he guided her gently to the warm fur and cold snow, hovering just far enough above her to allow him to unbutton his shirt and her own.

But his fingers weren't so nimble now, cold as they were, and Ginny seamlessly picked up the job, loosening the oxford cloth barriers between their breasts. The brisk air hit his chest and he gasped, not just from the cool shock but from wonder. Ginny's rounded, rosy breasts were unfettered and the sight of them hiding so coyly beneath the fabric made him hard beyond belief.

She pulled him down to her then, their bared skin touching hotly now, sweat forming between them as she welcomed his weight on her and he concentrated on being the only reason her nipples were so beautifully puckered.

She forced at least half of her mind to focus on Draco's hard length pressed against her barely covered mound. As he made love to her nipples, she snaked her small hands down between them and wormed her skirt up to her hips, feeling uncovered curls brush against the cloth of Draco's trousers.

In the back of his mind he registered her quick little fingers rustling around his nether region, and when he put more thought into it, he realized she was unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers and burrowing chilled fingers into his burning flesh.

Her touch seared him, and he hissed at her, the difference in temperatures only heightening his awareness of her.

“Witch,” he bit out, looking into her glittering eyes and grinning tightly. She returned the intense look, and before he could say any more she had freed him from his underclothes and tipped her hips and he slid into her, unawares.

He had always loved the first thrust into her, and this one was all the more spectacular for being unexpected. He couldn't tell who moaned first, or the loudest, or who kept pleading for more.

She was loathe to let him more than a few inches away from her, and he forgot all about his finesse and remembered all about her and made the most of the small space in which she allowed him to move.

Rocking her hips into his, she set the rhythm she wanted and he followed fluidly, filling her completely. Her climax was close at hand, and all she could think about, think about coherently, was Draco's completion merging with her own.

Her slick walls began to contract around him, and suddenly it was less important to thrust than to bury himself to the hilt in her. The long pulses that shuddered in her tight canal were like so many tiny kisses on his erection.

He kissed her then, as her entire orgasm wracked her body and drew his own in long, satisfying throbs. And when they were sated, they lay joined together for an interminable period of time, content with melting their snow valley away with each wave of heat that radiated from them.

***

On two different sides of the breaking day, hours and hours and hundreds of miles away, Draco woke in his marble tub, the water clear, cold, and sullied with his semen, and Ginny woke from her unintended nap, minutes before midnight, her face hot with arousal and her unmistakable scent lingering on the sheets.

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Author's Note: I know it has been far too long since I have updated this. It is a short chapter, and is mostly transitional. I need also note that all Walt Disney Company and affiliated company terminology and locations are probably trademarked and copyrighted by them. I am not using them with permission. Furthermore, any Walt Disney World specific trivia, such as locations and names, are correct to the best of my ability. I wrote my college thesis on WDW and have taken tours into many of the underground places mentioned herein and behind the scenes of rides and other locations.

***

“And we call these Utilidors, short for utility corridors,” the tour guide explained as he gestured to the painted arrows on the gray walls. “And these colored arrows will direct you to the proper entrance for your land.”

Ginny avidly followed the young man's commentary as he led them on a four hour tour of the facility. Having never been exposed to even the idea of a theme park, Ginny was quickly picking up on the specifics.

Though she inwardly scoffed at what these Americans called magic, she had to admit it was an impressive display of Muggle ingenuity. Distantly she wondered if Hermione had heard of this place.

The tour guide led them to the laundry room and to the central wardrobe, then moved toward the Cast Members' cafeteria.

“Can you believe this place?” Lauren asked Ginny in a whisper. “My mom brought me here once when I was little, but I haven't been back since. Isn't it amazing?

“Certainly it's different,” Ginny agreed cheerfully.

Several hours later, Ginny was hustled through the Utilidor leading to the cast entrance on Main Street, U.S.A. Her escort showed her the entrance into the buildings behind the Main Street façade, and she was directed to the First Aid station.

Once there, Ginny met several of her new co-workers. Behind the swinging door leading to the front of the small clinic, the nurse in charge, Holly Elliott, familiarized her with the supply cabinets and the procedures Ginny would be expected to perform and be tested on.

“We see hundreds of people each week,” Holly said sagely as she straightened some bandages on a shelf. “It is vitally important that we treat them all equally, quickly, and with the best care we can give. As I'm sure you know, people nowadays are sue-happy. One false move or incorrect decision and the Company is tied up in the courts for months, if not years.”

“Sue-happy?” Ginny asked, the term unfamiliar. Holly looked at her askance, eyebrows lifted.

“Litigation. Courts. You know, asking a court to make someone give you money in return for some wrong you allegedly suffered. You can't tell me you don't have the same thing in England.”

“Right,” Ginny said, nodding, but not really grasping the idea. The Wizengamot was the only court she knew, and she couldn't imagine it being flooded with complaints of the type Holly intimated.

“Anyhow, we primarily want you to be treating minor injuries. Sunburns, cuts, scrapes, things like that. Most of what you'll be doing will simply involve some antiseptic or some sun-relief cream and a bandage. Sometimes we see more serious cases, like asthma attacks, heatstroke, things like that. You'll be tested on all the techniques and procedures we require you to learn for these instances.”

Ginny nodded. It sounded reasonable.

“There is something else that is very important. I'm sure you've been told this already, but on your days off that you come to visit, you may not come and stop in for a friendly visit, nor may you make use of the employee entrances, et cetera. You are considered a guest. If you happen to be touring and see someone injure themselves, or have a heart attack, for example, you cannot treat them. You have to be officially on-duty to assist,” Holly warned.

“Now,” Holly continued, “here is the official handbook and study guide for the First Aid station. You need to study it and then in five days you'll take your test. Then after you complete the test you'll have a few more papers to sign, okay?”

Ginny nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. You've only got forty five minutes or so before your van comes to pick you up. Why don't you stay back here for now and start reading your manual?”

Ginny glanced at the clock. “That's fine. Am I allowed to take this with me?”

“Oh, yes. You'll need to. There's a lot of stuff to absorb in that little book,” Holly replied. “Just let me know before you leave and I'll show you the way back to the employee exit.”

***

Draco rubbed his face tiredly. A group of Aurors plus Bill Weasley was gathered around him as he stood in front of his father's study door. Waves of Dark magic seemed to emanate from the heavy oak portal. He'd never noticed it before, but one of the junior Aurors had helpfully mentioned that some ancient wards could strengthen if their caster died. Perfect. Bloody perfect.

His cousin Nymphadora was holding an old tome between her and Kingsley Shacklebolt, with Bill Weasley reading between their shoulders.

“Draco, do you recognize any of these wards?” Tonks asked, eyes flicking between him and the door.

“I don't,” he said truthfully. “It's nothing like the wards he ever taught me, and certainly isn't the same as the wards guarding the rooms we used on a regular basis.”

“We think it might be some sort of fire ward,” Kingsley said heavily. “And if we're right, there may be no way to open this door without the contents of the entire room bursting into flame.”

“Come again?” Draco asked. This was a new one.

“According to this book we found in the Hogwarts library, this may be some variant on the Bonfire Ward. In the Middle Ages, wizarding people warded their doors with this. If someone tried to enter to attack the caster, the place would go up in flames and pretty strongly discourage anyone from going in,” Bill supplied. “Your dad may have cast this in such a way that he wouldn't even have to be in the room. Everything would just burn.”

“And he wouldn't be stupid enough to just keep all his records in one place,” Tonks said. “Maybe there's somewhere else we can find things. Somewhere that maybe only he knew existed in the Manor.”

“I don't know,” Draco said. “It's obvious that you're finding places and things that neither Mother nor I knew were there. I can ask her if she remembers anything.”

“Maybe Professor Snape can give her a Memory-Enhancing Potion,” Tonks fired back.

Draco felt his face turn purple with rage.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Draco said politely, reaching out and grabbing his cousin's sleeve and dragging her protesting down the hall.

“Do you have a fucking problem, Malfoy?” Tonks spat angrily.

“I do,” he said coldly. “I told you before my mother is not going to take any potion, undergo any spell, or have a charm performed on her!”

“I guess you don't really want to find Ginny that badly, then,” Tonks said with mock sadness.

“You're a mad bint, cousin,” Draco said in a low, dangerous voice. “Don't ever question my relationships again. “I'm a Malfoy. I'm just crazy enough to kill you for it.”

Before Tonks could deliver her own stream of invective, there was a commotion on the first floor in front of the central staircase. A house elf scurried up to Draco and tugged on his hand.

“Master Malfoy! Mistress Malfoy is being here. She is being home!” the elf crowed happily.

Draco strode quickly to the mezzanine and looked over, seeing his mother's white-blonde hair and Professor Snape's stark black mop towering over a horde of house elves. Turning back to a vengeful Tonks, he ordered, “Don't move. Don't do anything until I say so.”

Racing down three flights of stairs, Draco rushed to meet his mother and her elven entourage.

“Mum!” Draco said, skidding to a stop. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren't leaving for another three days!”

“I'm happy to see you too, Draco,” Narcissa replied, a hint of a wan smile playing upon her tired face.

“St. Mungo's just let you go?” he asked incredulously.

“Darling, I told them I was leaving. Severus helped me escape.”

Draco looked over to Professor Snape, his eyes hardening as he gazed on his godfather.

“How could you—

“Your mother insisted she felt well enough to travel, and thought she would recuperate more quickly in a familiar setting,” Snape said firmly. “I would not have cooperated had I felt she was too ill to leave St. Mungo's.”

“There are Aurors crawling all over this place, and you know that!” Draco said to Snape, jerking his head toward the mezzanine.

Narcissa lifted her chin to gaze at the lone Auror peeking over the mezzanine's rail.

“Sweet Circe, it's Nymphadora,” Narcissa breathed.

“Unfortunately,” Draco murmured petulantly.

“Nymphadora!” Narcissa called. “Please come down here.”

Narcissa turned to address Severus and Draco.

“Draco, please have the house elves make my suite in the East Wing ready for me. And prepare the second East suite as well. Severus is staying during the summer hols to assist me.”

The lady of the manor was back.

Author's Note II: If you would like to learn the back story to Snape and Narcissa, please click here to visit my LiveJournal. This is complete in two parts. The warnings/fic info is at the top of the first post. Please read/heed the warnings.

Thanks to all of you who have continued to read and review this piece. It means a lot to me that people still like it and will wait for my slow ass to get things done.

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