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Disclaimer: We do not own anything you might recognize in this story.
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Now and then
You wonder why
And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out
-Nickelback, "Figured You Out"
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"Mum, is Ginny coming this morning?" asked Fred as he took his customary seat at the Weasley table for the traditional Sunday breakfast. With all the Weasley children grown up and moved out, Molly insisted that they all see each other at least once a week at Sunday breakfast.
"No, I'm afraid not. Our Ginny dearest is working as usual, bless her heart," replied Molly as the rest of the family sat down at the large oak table set to perfection by the matriarch of the family. In attendance were Fred, George, Arthur, Molly, and Percy. The eldest Weasley son's were both out of the country, Bill in Egypt and Charlie in Romania.
"Ron's late," Percy observed, opening a napkin and setting it on his lap.
"Brilliant deduction, Perce" commented George, moving to grab the basket of biscuits nearest him. Percy cocked his head to the side in annoyance.
"So old Pen's finally gone and left you then?" asked Fred, noticing the absence of his wife.
"Came to her senses did she?" George chimed in.
"Penelope," Percy started, shooting a correcting look at Fred, "had to work early at the Ministry."
"Right then" said George skeptically.
"You two leave Percy alone," Molly chided "at least he's found himself a nice woman and settled down." She gave a reproachful look at her twin sons.
"We go on loads of dates!" countered Fred. "Remember that girl last week, from the States?"
"What was her name?" questioned Molly with eyebrows raised.
Fred stared quizzically at his twin. "Melanie?"
"Wasn't it Jaime?" asked Arthur.
"No, that was last month, Dad" George commented with a sly grin.
Fred on the other hand had a look of deep concentration on his freckled face. "Michelle!" he finally declared triumphantly. "Her named was Michelle!"
Arthur laughed at his son's antics, but quickly transformed his chuckles into a whooping series of coughs at the un-amused sight of his wife.
Percy shot the twins an annoyed glance and turned to his mother. "Aren't we going to wait for Ron, Mum?"
"If he can be late then he can eat late," answered Molly matter-of-factly.
"Here here!" agreed Fred slamming his fist on the table with a mock passion. "I'm too hungry to wait for ickle Ronniekins anyhow."
"You're always hungry!" George scoffed as he tossed a biscuit at Fred who expertly caught it with years
of learned skill in his years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Enough boys, enough," Arthur said with a grin. "I think that will do for breakfast table insults this morning. Now if you don't mind…shall we eat?"
The twins along with the rest of the family nodded their heads vigorously at Arthur's comment and tucked into their morning meal, with the twins and Percy continuing to banter at one another in-between chews. Just as Molly opened her mouth to reprimand her sons, a loud crash thundered from the fire place and the sound of pounding feet came steadily toward them. The familiar form of Harry Potter soon became recognizable.
"Is she here?" Harry questioned as he approached the table.
"Geeze Harry, you look terrible," Fred commented eyeing his friend's disgruntled appearance.
Harry's prominent emerald eyes danced fiercely as he repeated the question.
"Is who here, dear?" Molly asked rising from the table, concern etched in her aged features.
"Hermione!" he said in frustration, "Is she here? Have you seen or heard from her?"
"Not since last night," Arthur said while standing up from his seat and walking over to his almost son.
"What's going on?"
"She's not hiding here to avoid me?" questioned Harry.
"Of course not," Molly replied. "What in Merlin's name-"
"Have you had any contact with her at all?"
Arthur shook his head and looked at his wife, then back at Harry. "Has something happened?"
Harry glanced around at the faces in the room. They were all painted with the same bewildered and concerned look. "I…think Hermione's in trouble," Harry started slowly, and proceeded to tell the family of his morning adventure of sorts. Molly soothed Harry's back after he had finished.
"Perhaps she's just out for the morning," she suggested hopefully.
"No," Harry said, taking a seat at the table, "I knew she was angry at me, but she would never go anywhere without her wand." He placed his elbows on the ancient table and cradled his head in his hands.
George opened his mouth to say something witty, but promptly shut it after a sharp look from his mother. The rest of the family looked desolately at the frustrated figure before them. Stillness reigned for several seconds as Arthur and Molly exchanged worried glances. Percy gave a slight jump as Harry suddenly raised his head and began speaking in a slow, measured tone that sounded like each word was physically paining him to verbalize.
"I have this feeling," he started, "In the core of my heart-I know she's in trouble. She's been taken."
A sudden fear gripped Molly Weasley at that moment. "What should we do Arthur?"
"We must inform the Ministry!" Percy said, more a statement than a suggestion. In his eyes the Ministry could do no wrong.
"We can't take this to the Ministry!" Fred objected, "It could be days before they get on the case!"
"Not with Hermione," Arthur interjected. "She's an important member of the Wizarding community-famous even, with her research at the Ministry and aid in defeating You-Know-Who."
"And she's Harry's girlfriend," George pointed out, "That one thing makes her more famous than anything else."
"George!" Molly hissed at her son from afar.
"He's right though," Harry said rising from the table. "And I don't want a bunch of Ministry
employees fouling up this case." He looked apologetically at Arthur and Percy. "The Aurors-they don't
know Hermione-and they don't know the kind of people who took her."
"What kind of people are you implying Harry?" asked Molly gently.
Harry stared down at the table, secretly dreading the words he was about to speak. After a few seconds, he looked up again at the family. "I don-"
"The kind of people you'd least expect," interrupted the voice of Ginny Weasley.
* * * * *
Darkness reigned. She heard a distant drip drip drip from an invisible pipe faintly echo in the chamber. The deafening silence was split between this maddening drip drip drip and the dull thumping of her heart.
It had been several agonizing hours, and the tears had still not fallen.
* * * * *
The Weasley's plus Harry turned and stared surprisingly at the shape standing in the doorway. Ginevra Weasley was no longer the awkward and timid little girl from her early days at Hogwarts. Time had turned her into an attractive woman, a powerful witch, and a clever hunter of evil. At age 20, she was an Auror with the ultimate resources: beauty and brains.
"Ginny?" Molly questioned as she rose to greet her only daughter. "I thought you were working on a big case?"
"I am, Mum," she answered with a bit of a giggle after a gripping hug. "Hello Dad, Fred-"
"What do you know?" Harry interrupted eyeing her intently.
"Hello to you too, Harry," she said with slight amusement and the twinge of a smile.
"I'm sorry," he replied removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I'm just going nutters here with-everything."
"Understandable," Ginny said. The amusement had left her voice.
"How are you working on that case if you're here?" Percy asked sardonically.
Ginny looked at her older brother with a glint of satisfaction in her maple-tinted eyes. "You are not privy to that information."
Percy pouted at the comment. He didn't enjoy being out-of-the loop when it came to Ministry business.
"Now, I hate to cut this reunion short, but I need to speak with Harry," Ginny continued with a regretful look at her family. She turned her attention to the Boy-Who-Lived. "Fancy a walk?"
"Sure."
* * * * *
"What do you know?" Harry asked her eagerly minutes later. "She's in danger, isn't she?"
"Shh!" Ginny hissed as she grabbed his hand and led him through the extensive backyard of the Burrow. "Not until we are in a secure area."
She shivered a bit beneath a long caramel colored coat and black turtleneck. A cold fog had settled over the grass and stretched as far as the eye could see. The brilliant sun that had decorated the morning sky minutes earlier had now eerily disappeared behind thick rolls of murky clouds. She gripped her wand with one hand and she strap of a black bag over her shoulder with the other.
Harry stared up into the ominous sky and quickened his pace. "Where are we going?"
"Dad's office," she called through the mist as they passed the mossy shores of the lake.
"Office?"
"It's actually more like a storage room," Ginny said with a grin. "Thanks to Dad and his magical tinkering."
Soon the pair arrived at a small wooden shed that looked no bigger than Harry's old room at the Dursley's. The red paint was chipped and peeling and the door looked as if it would fall off its hinges the moment it was opened.
Ginny stood in front of the dilapidated door and announced clearly, "Rubber duck." The door made a faint gushing sound as if it was releasing air and promptly opened.
Harry and Ginny carefully stepped into the shed. Arthur had obviously magically expanded the inside, for it was at least 3 times bigger than its outward appearance. The room was full of what looked like hundreds of wooden book shelves filled with all sorts of Muggle artifacts, from tape dispensers to computer mouses, and even an electric curling iron. Boxes and boxes of more Muggle trinkets filled up what seemed every available space that wasn't already occupied. In the center of the room was a large and rather handsome ebony desk. It looked somewhat out of place in the muddled space.
"I take it this is where Arthur keeps all his Muggle stuff?" Harry asked as he followed Ginny through the maze of clutter.
"Yeah. But it's suppose to be his office," she replied with a wry grin as she reached the black desk and conjured two somewhat cushy seats for Harry and herself.
"And this place is secure?"
Ginny sat down and smiled assuringly at him from across the table. "Of course. Dad put all sorts of enchantments on this place. Totally undetectable. Mum doesn-"
Harry cut her off. "The case is about Hermione, isn't it?"
Ginny blinked. Her smile was gone in an instant.
"The big one you've been working on. It's has to do with Hermione."
"Yes," she finally answered. "It does."
"What do you know?" he asked apprehensively.
"Not as much as I need to," she said. "But I've been working on this case for weeks now and I've-"
"Then you knew she was going to be attacked? You knew and did nothing to save her?" he questioned accusingly.
Ginny's eyes danced with anger. "You're not the only one who cares for Hermione, Mr. Potter." Harry visibly flinched at the formal title. "She's like a sister to me. Do you honestly think that I would have-"
Harry held up a hand gesturing her to stop. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't mean that. I know you would have done everything in your power to save her if you could have."
Her face relaxed and her supple brown eyes warmed. "Enough apologies."
Harry gave her a faint smile and sat down. "Deal."
* * * * *
The deceptively battered looking front door to the office of sorts stood firm as its edge stood ajar against the doorframe. Ginny and Harry where so immersed in the impending situation that neither noticed the invisible shadow creep into the room moments after they had and silently conceal itself among the clutter.
* * * * *
"I am about to tell you extremely confidential Auror business, Harry." Ginny began. "Explicitly secret, actually. I could lose my job of any of this goes awry." She paused and stared down at the desk. "But I knew I would need your help on this case. No one else has the capacity to deal with what - who we're…" She lifted her head up, "well…dealing with."
Harry's pulse raced. "Please tell me it's not her, Gin."
Ginny sighed and opened the black bag she had been carrying over one shoulder. She quickly produced several dozen large print muggle photos and placed them on the desk directly in front of him. She looked at him apologetically. "I wish I could, Harry."
He stared down at the photos below him and met the menacing face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Shit," he said aloud.
"I've taken these photos from Muggle surveillance videos from various areas in town."
"How did she-?"
Ginny sighed heavily. "Her accomplices are Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood."
Harry felt a weight heavier than anything he had ever experienced creep up onto his shoulders. If Bellatrix had Hermione, there would be no telling what sort of torture the Death Eater and her cronies would be putting her through. And how would they know if she was even still alive? He shuddered at the thought of Hermione's body lying stiff somewhere, her warm chocolate eyes icily glazed over, an expression of fear forever carved into her beautiful face by means of the Killing Curse - just like Cedric.
"Bellatrix hates Muggle-borns," he said blankly, suddenly drained of all energy.
Ginny stared at him intently, her Auror eyes hard yet full of sympathy. Somehow the 21-year old wizard sitting in front of her, the-Boy-Who-Lived, the ultimate hero of the known Wizarding World, had relapsed into the skinny and bespectacled 11- year old she had met at King's Cross the year before she was to attend Hogwarts. "That seems like eons ago," she though to herself.
She reached across the desk and gripped his hand. "I know this is a lot to take in, but there's more."
"Great," he said cheekily.
"A few months ago the Agency was informed that Bellatrix had been spotted in London." Ginny began to collect the photos and placed them back into her bag. She quickly produced a stack of parchments and held them in her lap. "I have been undercover for weeks following her every move. I know now that someone else has been helping Bellatrix."
"What do you mean?"
"The person who led Bellatrix to Hermione," she said steadily. "The person who did the actual kidnapping." She paused uncertainly.
"Who?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"It's not really him, Harry," she said quickly. "He doesn't realize what he's doing."
"Ginny," he said seriously. "You're scaring me. Who are you talking about?"
She gave him a pained look. The name that came out of her lips next was indeed the one he had never expected to hear. The one he that had never even crossed his mind.
"Ron," she said almost apologetically. "It's Ron."
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