Unofficial Portkey Archive

I apologize to anyone who was following this story for the long wait, but sometimes real life can get in the way. I'm not making any promises, but I can gurantee that the next two chapters are running quite smoothly.
Warning: As of the moment this chapter is unBeta'd, but I do promise that it will be in the near future. But as of now, it is not up to par with the writing of the previous three chapters, so if you want to wait for the polished version, don't worry it will be uploaded in the next week.

*~*~*

Chapter 11: I Went to Egypt and All I Got was This Stupid T-shirt

Benjamin Brown wasn't a very happy fellow as he strode down the lengthy hall to the small office he'd worked in for the last four years. He'd just come from a well-earned two-week holiday with his wife and son and the thought of returning to work raised his blood pressure to dangerous levels. But hardly anyone could blame him for being unhappy as Mister Brown was one of the few people desperate enough to be a Prison Governor at Azkaban Prison.

His day didn't appear to promise anything brighter as he approached the pine desk and Tyson Arnold, the lanky young-man reclined in the tiny swivel chair using his boss's desk as a foot stool.

"Guess whose autograph I have?" Arnold asked, in way of a morning greeting, a wide grin gracing his thin face.

"Whose, Viktor Krum's? Don't be so proud that Bulgarian-git will give it to anyone who stands still long enough for him to brand 'em," he answered, moving swiftly around his desk and confiscating his swivel chair from the bag of bones.

"No," he answered and the horsey smile threatening to overcome his face grew wider. "Better than that."

Aggravated with his co-worker's big toothed optimism Bennie snapped, "I give up. Who?"

"Harry Potter," he answered, the childish glow ignoring his upper's temperament, and holding firm.

Prison Governor Brown couldn't stop the snort of astonishment from his pug-nose. "You're a rotten liar. You know that. Everyone knows he don't give his signature to nobody."

"Well, he gave it to me," said the little sandy-haired bastard, matter-of-factly.

"When?"

"Day before yesterday," Tyson answered, idly playing with his rusted ring of skeleton keys.

"Is that so?" he asked, wheeling his chair backwards to a clipboard chart that hung from a green tack in the wall and quickly sliding a pudgy finger down the list of names and dates. "Schedule says you were working that day. Where'd you meet him? On your lunch break?"

"Nope, right here," the Deputy answered, tapping a bony finger on the desk.

"Now, I know you're lying. Harry Potter's never stepped foot on Azkaban soil. My kid brother was a coupla' years ahead of him at Hogwarts, says he can't take the dementors or something. But I don't believe that and I don't believe you."

"I'll prove it!" Arnold said, his voice raising an octave. It was clear he was angry at his boss's blatant disbelief but too afraid to voice it.

"How?"

"Check the sign-in sheet."

Governor Bennie aggravated with his Deputy's obvious procrastination or even more obvious attempts at humor plucked the wooden clipboard from its slot. Not many people came to Azkaban for visits and finding the date was simple as was the signature of the one visitor that day.

There it was: Harry Potter.

Normally, Bennie would have claimed it was a forgery but that signature had to be Potter's. The Minister himself went over the list weekly and Deputy Tyson Arnold wouldn't have risked his job for a practical joke. But there was something missing.

"Where's his Apparation License?"

Tyson looked very young and nervous as he scratched his unkempt hair. "Sorry, Governor but I didn't ask him for one or search him either. I mean he's Harry Potter for Merlin's sake. I could barely breathe much less ask to frisk him."

Ordinarily Warden Benjamin "Bennie" Brown would have been outraged at his worker's incompetence but it was Harry Potter and he couldn't help but agree that he'd have probably done the same.

*~*~*

Miss Fleur Delacour, soon to be Mrs. William Weasley awoke to the warm embrace of her future husband's arms and the squawking of a very annoyed bird. Rolling over, she near screamed at the sight that met her eyes. A brown and white falcon had perched himself on the headboard of her sleigh bed, wagging an envelope tied to his bony leg like a blue flag.

"Horus?" her fiancé asked, releasing her to lift the fatigued animal. "What are you doing here?"

"You recognize 'dis bird?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, untying the letter from its leg. "He belongs to a friend of mine in Egypt."

Remembering Bill's reputation before her Fleur felt a pang of jealousy stab at her ego. "A friend?" she asked, failing to sound unaffected.

"You remember Samir," he answered, soothing her jealousy. "He was at our engagement party, he owns a few hotels in Luxor now... But I can't imagine why he'd be writing me."

His crystal-eyes moved over the blue paper in his hand, his cheerful smile instantly falling away. Worried, she sat silently on the bed watching his usually light-hearted manner replace itself with a mix of anxiety and anger as he slowly folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope.

Unable to take the tension-filled silence Fleur cleared her throat. "What is that letter about?" she asked.

But he ignored her, crawling out of the bed instead. "Sorry to cut this trip short love, but I have to leave for London immediately."

"Why?"

"I have to see Percy," he explained, popping his long freckled arms out the short sleeves of his black t-shirt.

"And when will you be back?" she asked, her temper beginning to rise at the thought of her fiancé leaving her in bed to visit his stuffy young frère.

"Don't be cross," he said fastening the buckle of his belt. "I'll be back to you by the end of the week if not sooner," he promised, bending down and kissing her soundly on the lips before popping out of the room.

*~*~*

Ron enjoyed the cloudy morning as he ate his breakfast aside his silent companions. There was an anxiety that had settled over the meal that he could only compare to the quiet time before a Quidditch match, especially matches against the team of the boy who sat across from him.

Malfoy had pushed away his breakfast opting for parchment and the blue-prints Hermione had loaned him, occasionally handing his notes and quill to Pansy, wordlessly ordering her to interpret something for him. His slate-eyes followed his slow moving quill as he took another note but would occasionally glance at the tomb that lay in the distance but always settled back on his papers with a sneer. He was awfully sullen and short tempered for a man who thought he was about to retrieve some priceless magical artifact, even if Ron and Harry knew better. Ron was confident their plan was going to work, and in forty-eight hours Malfoy would be rotting behind bars, a place he should have been sentenced to long before.

Despite the unpleasant taste of his own meal Ron couldn't suppress a grin at the image in his mind. He, Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the wizarding world would finally be rid of them, the whole Malfoy lot. In forty-eight hours life would be good.

"So what time are we going?" Pansy asked. Her breakfast no more than a small pile of brown crumbs and paper. "In the tomb I mean?"

"As soon as Malfoy finishes with Bill's map. He's trying to hatch some great plan," Ron explained, looking down into his cup of juice. He hadn't been able to quite look Pansy in the eye after yesterday evening's incident. It had just been her bare back he'd seen but she had been nude none-the-less.

"Yes, because flying by the seat of our trousers is an excellent approach," said Malfoy, standing from the table. He threw his breakfast in the paper bag Hermione had designated as the rubbish bin, before marching off in the direction of his tent.

"That's right Malfoy abuse the baked goods," Pansy called after him as he shoved the canvas-flap shut. Her crystal eyes moved across the table to Ron again. "So, we have to wait for one of his brilliant plans."

"It appears so," Hermione offered.

"Great, that could take days," Ginny said. Her words being the first Ron had heard from her the entire morning. Earlier, she had seemed rather stoic grabbing her small prepackaged meal from the basket but Ron had chucked it up to Ginny being Ginny.

"I'm finished," Malfoy announced, letting the green flaps fall shut as he emerged from his tent Bill's blueprints in his fist. He didn't seem to register Ginny's presence as he slid into the seat opposite hers.

"What's the plan Malfoy?" Harry asked.

The blonde parted the scroll on the wooden table, using the breakfasters' cups to hold down the curling corners.

"We'll of course enter the building from the front, because from what I've read there's only one way in and one way out, but I also must note that this map's not completely accurate-"

"So my brother's map isn't good enough for you either?" Ginny questioned.

Malfoy was silent, frowning down at his neatly written notes and rolled print. "No Weasley," he said evenly. "Unlike most things you've given me your brother's map was actually useful for something."

Everyone sat quietly as Malfoy delivered his lay-out of intrusion and extraction. He used his dark wand to direct their eyes as he resolved the obvious flaws of the map the false walls, the cloaked doors, and the secret passages that he believed were intentionally foregone. He'd been unable to confirm the location of the Altar Room but was confident that it existed and would indeed be found behind one of the many cloaked doors. If it had been anyone other than Malfoy, Ron might have been impressed.

"So that's it. That's the plan?" the broad Auror asked.

"Yes, and as you can see its fool proof," Malfoy answered, confidently.

"Or so one would think," said Ginny sarcastically.

"Well, we needn't worry about you doing any of that," the blonde shot back, demonstrating the early signs of a sneer and rolling-up the blueprints.

Ron and the whole of the table fell quiet as Malfoy and Ginny glared at one another. Their eyes and mouths were locked in a zealous battle of glowers and barbs that appeared to only concern the two of them.

Instinct told Ron to pounce. Growing up he'd rarely let Ginny fight her own fights but she'd dug herself into this with Malfoy and it was time she started taking responsibility for her rashness so he just watched as she surrendered the battle and stood to stalk off to her own tent.

He didn't understand why but he felt a shiver of suspicion pass over him. Something indeed was happening between his sister and the Ferret. But what it was he did not know.

Sighing, Ron ended the tense silence, "We'll I'm the Auror here. So I say dress, lock your things, bar your tents, and we'll meet back here in ten," he ordered.

"Ten, what?" Pansy asked her head tilted in confusion.

"Minutes, Pansy," he answered, crumbling his own wrapper.

*~*~*

Draco admired his reflection, taking in the fine blonde hair that had adorned his head since before he could remember, the long nose that had taken him entirely too long to grow into, the angular chin he inherited from his mother, and last he stared into the translucently pale eyes that were undeniably his father's. He couldn't help but agree with his sire, the Malfoys were an attractive clan.

At the sound of crumbling plastic, he didn't move from the mirror but flicked his eyes to the opening flaps behind him. Expecting Pansy, Draco was surprised to see the girl that quietly closed the door behind him. Standing just inside his tent was Ginny Weasley.

They watched one another. There was so much unspoken hate, unresolved words, and some other thing that lingered between them. But he refused to give it a name, choosing to ignore it. He didn't swallow it or compartmentalize it to study later. He simply ignored it, turning to face her.

As always she was dressed modestly, the only hint of eccentricity found in the obnoxious color of her t-shirt. She was holding something long and wrapped tightly in the remnants of a burlap sack in her hands.

The dark circles beneath her eyes that he'd noticed at breakfast proved to him that like himself she hadn't returned to sleep after their row either. Those hooded eyes quickly moved to his slightly exposed chest and he felt his mood lighten at the blush that raced to her cheeks. He merely smiled to himself, leaning onto the base of his sink. Normally he would have already buttoned his shirt out of propriety but watching her face flush was too much fun to abide to the rules of etiquette.

"So this is what staying the hell away from you looks like. I'll have to keep that in mind," he said, slowly fastening his brown buttons.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," she spat back with the same venom she'd held at breakfast but Draco could hear the quiver in her voice. She was trying to cast a shadow of coldness over him but it wasn't working...that well.

"I would never," he answered smugly.

"I didn't come in here to have a chat, I came because I have something you need," she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Aren't we overly confident," he replied, growing angry at her dismissal of him.

"Stop it, Malfoy! I came in here to give you this." Not moving any further into the room she thrust the wrapped thing at him.

He sighed, pushing himself off his basin and seized the object from her hands. It was heavier than he'd had expected and he nearly dropped it before pealing away the folds of brown fabric.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he looked upon the weapon. The book's illustration had not done its subject justice from its mirror-shine blade to its bejeweled hilt; it was a beautiful piece of weaponry.

Surprised he looked up at her, How had she known he would need it?

As if reading his mind Ginny answered him, "Pansy said it was required."

He couldn't believe she'd actually stolen it from the Ministry of Magic. If she were to be caught with it, it would surely be her job if not more. "Where did you find this?" he asked, confident in knowing her answer but wanting to hear it from her own lips.

"That isn't important," she answered curtly. Stepping backward from the dagger and himself she moved to the open entrance. The air in the room had grown so silent, Draco almost jumped at Ginny's abrupt exit, "I'm needed outside."

"Of course," he replied.

*~*~*

The tomb was more than the mere crypts and pyramids she'd visited on her previous holidays. It oozed a more regal aura, like the magic it held inside was seeping through the sandstone bricks. The lion head rain spouts stared down from their stucco perches dry and agape.

Ginny hated the heat that oppressed everything around her, and she couldn't wait to be inside the tomb they were slowly approaching. She still had memories of when they had traveled to Egypt before, and she could remember the cool if not stuffy air that the pyramids and tombs held deep inside them.

But as far as her memory went none of those tombs had large signs outside them that read: Welcome visitors to the Aker Museum in four different languages. "Do we just walk in?" Harry asked. "No we just stand out here looking like daft fools," Draco mumbled. "I suppose so," Ron said. Ginny assumed he hadn't heard the blonde because it wasn't possible that Ron would willingly ignore him.

They all moved forward as a group, Ginny stood near the end. She was no longer the driving forward initiative type and the nervous cramps that racked her stomach were a sign that now was not the time to start again.

They were on the temples last set of stairs when they were approached by a floating being, clad in antique British Royal Army fatigues.

Before anyone could introduce themselves he quieted them with a translucent hand. When he spoke, he had a bored drumming voice, "Welcome to the Aker Museum. We are sorry to inconvenience you but unfortunately we are closed for the season due to reconstruction. Please do come back soon."

"Sorry," Ron apologized, pausing to read the officers name tag. "Mister Hollingsworth. But we're not tourists. I'm here as an Auror, investigating a case on missing artifacts."

A smile of mock pity nearly curled the officer's face. It was obvious to all he doubted Ron's honor. "May I see some identification sir?"

Ron pulled from his back pocket his Auror's ID and his Apparation license. The ghost's gray-blue eyes roved over the two plastic cards as he read them before he straightened and looked back over the small crowd a clear look of annoyance on his rugged features.

"I'm to believe that all of you are identification toting Auror's also."

Ron turned back to them, his crystal-eyes searching Harry and Hermione for an answer. "Umm...." he began.

Sympathy for her brother stabbed at Ginny's heart but not as painfully as Pansy's elbow digging into her side. Ready to snap, Ginny turned in her direction but was more than surprised to see that she was only loosening another white-button on her blue shirt as she climbed a step to sidle-up next to Ron.

"I'm sorry Officer Hollingsworth," Pansy began in a honey-sweet voice Ginny had never heard her use before, "But our Great Leader here can be a bit daft sometimes. It seems he completely forgot to inform us to bring any form of identification-"

"All of you?" he asked doubtfully but Ginny could see he wasn't actually looking at Pansy's face when he spoke to her.

"Yes, sir. We're so very sorry." Pansy answered, biting hard onto her bottom lip.

"Sorry indeed," he said, casting a glare at Ron.

"I understand such an attractive English Officer such as yourself must get tourists all the time asking for favor after favor, but for once could you just look the other way... I mean we won't be inside long and I can assure you we won't bother a thing."

The officer stared back at Pansy, measuring her with his eyes and Ginny was almost impressed the way Pansy never wavered under his comprehending gaze. "I don't usually do this, but I'm letting you in and there are going to be very strict rules you must abide to."

*~*~*

Ron could barely see his hand much less the people around him. He could only discern where his companions were by the sounds of their voices which was hard because every sound they made echoed down the seemingly endless hall. The had walked deep into the tomb since parting from the security ghost and the headache inducing must of renovating supplies hadn't curtailed.

"No magic!" Malfoy shouted, his voice revealing the outrage he felt. "How in the bloody hell does that lifeless sot expect us to get about without any magic…At all? And what was that he kept going on and on about? Catalysts and catastrophes it sounds like a load of rubbish if you ask Me."

"Is he ever going to shut his face?" Harry asked, from his left. Ron could hear by his slightly slurred words he was asking through clenched teeth.

"Not likely, Potter," Pansy answered.

She was walking ahead of him and Ron only knew this because every so often he would catch a whiff of her flowery shampoo. She had surprised him by how easily she'd persuaded the guard to let them in after she had gone up there.

"How did you do that back there? With the guard I mean."

"Simple, Weasley. I just gave him a peep of something he hasn't seen in a while. He might be as dead as a founder but he's still a man," she answered, matter-of-factly.

The uncomfortably close drawling voice let Ron know that Malfoy was trailing less than a stride behind him.

"Lovely to know that you'll sacrifice the little integrity you have left for nothing Pansy, but I would much rather hear how Weasley expects to navigate us through this bloody maze in the dark."

"The guard said that there are both Muggle torches and lamps inside the hypostyle hall," Ron explained, trying to keep a hold on his patience with the crotchety git in his ear. He chanced a look behind him but there was nothing but black.

"That's wonderful Weasel but-"

"Oh shove this," Pansy exhaled, stopping so suddenly Ron clumsily ran into her, his face burying in her thick hair. "Lumos."

Everything around them was suddenly alight with more than just the spell from Pansy's wand. It was a harsh shock to his vision and Ron stood still in an attempt to regain his composer.

"What did you do?" he asked, squinting as he tried to take everything in.

But the widow didn't have time to answer as the thumping sound of marching echoed down the dark hall. The foul cold air rushing passed them and the foreboding sound spread a rash of goose pimples over his arms. Something was happening, something bad was happening and this feeling caused Ron to instinctively turn for his sister but as he faced her something standing far behind her and Malfoy grabbed his attention.

*~*~*

The harsh yellow light from the temple's lamps burned Ginny's eyes. She had grown accustomed to the darkness of the tomb and had to squint against the sudden kindling to turn and follow her brother's pale eyes.

She had to blink twice before realizing what she saw before her was real.

Loose brown rags hung from their dried bodes, waving in the still air as they slowly inched towards them. Strings of black hair fell into their socket less eyes dropping from their glabrous heads and it was clear the mummies were less surprised to see her than Ginny was to see them.

She hadn't been aware she was holding her breath and was grateful when she heard the first whistle of a spell zoom by her ear and felt something wrapping around her arm jolting her from her lethargy. "We're running Weasley?" Malfoy said in her ear over the casting of curses.

"I can't," she argued, trying to wrestle her arm away from his grip as he dragged them backward down the hall counting his steps. "I have to help my brother!"

"Have it your way then?!" he replied nonchalantly, but instead of obeying her wishes he shoved her harshly into the wall. She swore at him, bracing herself for impact but it never came.

*~*~*

"Hermione!"

She turned to find Ron, pointing to a stone doorway to their left. Years of friendship and fleeing together Hermione instantly understood and pushed Pansy into the lit room quickly following in after her. Reaching for the copper door Hermione held back a gasp as she was met with nothing but stone wall and hinges. She turned away from the useless threshold searching the glass-shelved walls and decorated displays for anything heavy enough to bar the empty doorway, magically or otherwise. Finding only empty canopic jars and useless ushebtis in the cultic equipment cases Hermione felt herself growing desperate and she shouted a few carpentry spells at the door hoping maybe it could mend itself but the stubborn stones stayed parted.

Panic began to rise in her as Ron and Harry began retreating into the threshold, hexes flowing off their lips. She could see their bright eyes were searching for a way out and by her side Pansy was moving back from the door, her cheeks sucked into the sides of her face and head angled up as she studied the stone-frame.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked surprised to hear how shaky her voice had become.

"Shut-up Granger, I'm trying to think," Pansy snapped, not taking her eyes off the stone.

"Now's not the time to work miracles, Pansy," Ron yelled, poking his head in for a moment.

"He's right," Hermione added, not striving to insult her but trying to get help in defending themselves. "Now arm yourself, we need to be ready when they come!"

But Pansy ignored both her and Ron, walking up to the stone frame and tracing over the raised hieroglyphics that were engraved in the gray rock with her long fingers. Surprising Hermione, she began reciting the ancient stone words.

"Come forth door."

Hermione was almost impressed as she listened to her perfect pronunciation of each biliteral with the absences of vowels that Hermione herself had fallen victim to pronouncing.

"Do not cause injury to me."

Her terms began jumbling in Hermione's mind as Pansy's pace quickened. Hermione couldn't distinguish the words as the debutante's fingers trailed down each small character.

"They are safe. They are protected and guarded."

"Weighers of heaven and earth in scales."

She was really going to save them. Hermione thought to herself desperately pulling Harry and Ron by their shirt collars away from the door. The same girl who couldn't pronounce 'precipitation' days before actually had a good idea.

"Guard until eternity."

At her last words, Hermione felt her breath catch painfully in her throat as the stones snapped into place leaving her staring at a solid dark wall, the rough feel of Ron and Harry's shirts numbing under her fingers.

"Pansy?" she asked trying to keep her voice from quivering, hoping she had heard Pansy wrong. "Do you have any idea of what you just said? Of what you've just done?"

"Well, I'm not sure really. Saved us I suppose," she answered, wiping the dust from her fingers on the short leg of the dark trousers she wore.

"No." Hermione answered, studying the hieroglyphics again. Pansy turned on her, her blue-eyes searching Hermione's face for an answer. "You've locked us in here."

"So."

"Well in your words 'for all eternity,'" Hermione shrieked.

*~*~*

Draco saw everything through the camouflaged door. It was like a brown linen haze that he could watch both his enemies and his escorts through. He felt a wave of relief as their company retreated and the dynasty old guards ran passed his line of vision and out of sight.

"We've gone unnoticed," he whispered to his companion, but the tiny redhead remained quiet.

Draco was suddenly aware that she hadn't said a single word since they'd stepped into the room. Not one declaration of saving her brother or insult of how he was a pantywaist for running.

"Weasley," he whispered into the darkness of the room. He couldn't see passed his arm and he waved it into the general area he'd pushed her. His hand connected with nothing but the silent air and Draco felt his stomach drop.

"Weasley this isn't funny," he hissed, moving blindly into the room and then his feet met air.

*~*~*

Curiously, Ron watched as Hermione and Pansy went over the different characters again. It had to have been the fourth time they had done it in the last half-hour. Their voices intertwined as they mumbled each word trying to open the stones again. It had never occurred to Ron to question where the wizarding world had learned to split stones but now it was quite obvious. Bill had always said that the Egyptians had been the greatest architects and as he watched Harry's unsuccessful Reductor curse bounce off the solid barricade, he couldn't help but think that his eldest brother was right. Their walls were very well made.

"Ha!" Hermione yelped, jumping away from the wall and pulling Ron from his thoughts. "We're not stuck!" she cried, hopping to the wall again, her fingers moving over the characters. "I misinterpreted Pansy's translation earlier. She didn't mean eternity but until the sun meets the stars or the stars meet the sun. It's a bit ruff around here." She circled the worn cartouche.

"How did you muddle for eternity?" Harry asked, holding his wand-hand palm up. "And 'til night meets day?" he asked, holding up the other.

Even in the firelight he could see Hermione blushing with embarrassment, "Well, I was quite frightened if not excited at the time and adrenalin has been known to affect someone's judgment. I don't feel as if this moment's any different."

"Best to hold onto that thought Granger," Pansy said. Her back was to Ron and her face was veiled by her hair but he had the distinct feeling she was smirking behind that curtain of chestnut-brown. "So we're stuck in this crypt 'till sunset, right?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the smaller brunette, curtly. "We should only be barred in here for a maximum," she paused for a moment and Ron could see her doing the math. "Three hours- four at the most.

"What about my sister? Will it be the same for her and Ferret-boy? Will they get out?" Ron asked his sister's safety had more than once crossed his mind since he'd discovered she and Malfoy were missing. Ginny's skill with a wand was unquestionable but the idea that she was missing with Malfoy worried him more than a little. She needed someone who would shield her and Draco-the coward-Malfoy was not the boy to defend her. At the sight of one vengeful mummy the wimp would without a doubt run from the fight leaving her for dead.

"Well?" he asked when Hermione had failed to answer.

"In theory all the rooms are connected so yes she and Malfoy should be safe," she replied. Ron wasn't quite convinced with her answer but didn't know if it was from the nervous wringing of her small hands, or the fact that deep down he was still a bit angry with her for keeping Ginny's secret from him.

*~*~*

The feeling of falling through water was always strange to Ginny, even after summer days spent swimming at a pond by the Burrow, it was still rather strange experience and as her descent eased and she began swimming up to the small white square that appeared to be the only light amongst the darkness she heard the odd sound of a splash and felt something large and solid plunging passed her.

It bumped her as it changed direction and drove passed her in a blur of grey-bubbles and murk. Continuing her ascent to the light and air, Ginny had the overwhelming urge to reach out to it. It was quite long and she caught it by what could only be described as its foot and it took her only a moment to identify it as a shoe.

Being inhibited by the loss of one arm, she found it nearly impossible to swim and drag the heavy body that was attached to the shoe. Her arm and legs burned as she broke the surface, breathing in much needed air.

Ginny had never described air as being sweet before, but as she broke the surface it was the only word she could think of. Her arm and legs burned as she struggled to hold onto the leg and keep her head above the dark water and find a shore. Her muscles burned with every stroke she made in the direction of the embankment and the task of holding onto the foot was becoming fruitless and stupid to her when her foot hit soft earth. The water rose to her chest as she kneeled in the water and turned the dark boot and the attached body upright. White-hair emerged from the brown-water and Ginny smiled in relief.

She didn't know why but something had told her that it was him. His weight, nearly cut in half by the water, made it easy for Ginny to pull him by the collar of his shirt behind her. She could hear him spitting and sputtering as she tried to pull him onto the narrow bank.

Their labored breathing was the only sound that filled the tunnel like tomb as they lay still on the stone bank.

Draco was the first to break their silence, "You saved me," he gasped.

"I wasn't going to let you drowned," she panted, lying still on the slimy clay stones.

"Why not?" he asked gasping for air, and using his back to slowly slide up the wall behind them. "You hate me."

With what little breath she had, Ginny groaned into the soft earth. Now was not the time to talk about such things, couldn't Draco see that. Catching her breath she rolled over on the narrow bank, looking at him sideways from the ground. He was paler than usual, his hair and skin had faded into a singular pristine color, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared down at her. "I don't hate you, Malfoy. I never hated you, despite what I've said before."

"Why not?" he asked again and she could see his chest was slowing as his breathing regulated.

"'Cause I don't hate anyone except..." Ginny trailed off. As long as she'd lived there had been only one person, one thing she had every truly hated but she would die before she ever told him that giving him that ammunition to use against her. "Let me rephrase that, I don't really hate anyone. If I dislike someone then I just don't care."

"So that's it, that's my box?" he stated as a matter-of-fact.

Ginny didn't answer. She didn't believe he deserved one. Why was he so interested in knowing her thoughts on him? She already knew his opinions of her: an employee and a Weasley. Plus, she wasn't concrete on her thoughts anyway.

"We don't have time for this Malfoy," she said, looking up at the small rectangle that was their only source of light. How were they going to climb back up there?

She was just beginning to contemplate different ideas when the silence between them was broke by a low feline growl.

"Malfoy be quiet and start thinking of a way to get us out of here," she ordered.

"I didn't say anything," he argued, withdrawing his wand.

Ginny shook her head contributing the intimidating rumble to a mixture of exhaustion and her overactive imagination, but the feel of Draco's fingers curling around her arm chased those thoughts from her mind replacing them with panic.

He swore in her ear dragging them up from their sandy perches. They slowly walked backwards and Ginny had the unnerving idea that Draco was using her as a shield.

"Do you know where we are?" Ginny questioned him, hoping that she could hold her footing as her boots slid across the slippery sand and stones as they continued to move backwards.

"I have an idea," he offered and she could hear the subtle and sudden panic that had risen in his tone. Draco always had everything under-control, including the pitch of his voice, and the fact that it was at an alto at the moment, unnerved her. "Let's just move, Weasley," and without warning Draco sprinted in the opposite direction his fingers still firmly clasped around her arm.

*~*~*

Ron sat back watching Hermione work on the door. She'd certainly figured out how Pansy had locked them in here. It seemed before this tomb was turned into a museum this corner had been a preparation room used by priests to prepare the bodies for mummification. They needed complete privacy and the secret spells they used needed absolute containment so they locked themselves inside as they worked. But none of that information got them any closer to being out of their stone prison.

He felt a weight drop beside him and expecting Harry's familiar voice, Ron nearly jumped as a female cooed into his ear.

"You're worried about the little Weaslette aren't you?"

Ron didn't answer. He was in no mood to entertain Pansy at the moment and only wanted to eat his sandwich in peace.

"Don't be," she said with such confidence that it took him back for a moment. "She's with Malfoy and I'm certain they're both okay. If anything at the sight of those walking paper-rolls, Malfoy's now miles from here."

"I don't care what Malfoy does, Pansy. Just what he does with my sister."

Hoping to end their conversation Ron took a bite of his sandwich, the meat and bread tasted odd in his mouth but conjured food always did.

"Then you should watch the little vixen more closely," she said, smiling before standing and quickly moving to the other side of the room to sit next to Hermione.

"What?" Ron asked, through a mouth of bread and hash. She was really beginning to annoy him with her nonsense. Yesterday, Malfoy was a Boggart and today his sister is a vixen. Was everyone Magical Creatures to her?

Focusing his thoughts back on his sister, Ron took another bite of his sandwich. He didn't have time to contemplate Pansy Parkinson.

*~*~*

Draco's only goal was to place as much space between himself and the sounds that reverberated from what could only be the place he was destined to go. He was vaguely aware of the Ginny's throbbing pulse beneath his fingers as he gripped her wrist. All those days running from her brother's had finally paid off as she'd surprised him by matching his speed and holding her own against her natural clumsiness as he rushed them down the hall.

He was just beginning to feel the first signs of fatigue in the slow ache of his rib-cage when Ginny set her feet bringing him to a jerking halt that would have made a Firebolt proud.

"Stop, Draco!" she ordered, tethering him by her arm to the spot on the small sandstone bank.

"Not now, Weasley," he said, yanking her forward but she held fast.

"Draco, I'm not taking another step 'till you tell me what's going on."

He looked around nervously, insuring himself that they hadn't been followed, "We don't have time for this," he argued.

"Yes, we do."

He looked back at her, from the determined knit in her eyebrows it was obvious that she was going to hold true to her threat and not move another foot until he explained his actions.

"In the Chronicles of Cairo it was written that Ramses the Great, traditionally used lions when he rode into battle. He even raised one as a pet-"

"Draco, I took History of Magic I don't need a refresher course," Ginny said, trying to rush him.

"He also found them very valuable in guarding things. Where he discovered a Sphinx would undoubtedly fail, lions would flourish and mummified lions could continue their tasks well after their deaths."

She shook her head. "You're mad, Malfoy. Lions don't exist in Egypt anymore and they certainly wouldn't be inside a tomb-"

"How can you be sure?"

"Those aren't lions," she insisted but her voice betrayed her doubt.

"Use your brain, Weasley. Even the bloody museum's named after the Egyptian god Aker...A lion."

"Then what in the hell are they doing down here?" "Obviously inside the mastaba and guarding something, Weasley," he said. "And I give you one guess as to what."

He could see the realization dawning over her face, "You mean we must get past those-those...things," she demanded, pointing in the direction they had just run from.

"Precisely," he answered turning to address his map. This underground tunnel wasn't anywhere on the blueprints that he had, but Draco surmised that it must be built identical to the building it rested under. The lighting inside the tunnels was horrid and he grabbed Ginny's lit wand and pulled she and it closer to him.

Taking the advice of his blueprints turned to his right moving further down the tunnel.

*~*~*

Samir Mustafa had always been quiet, being one of those people who could convey all speech through a look. And now looking was all he was doing as he stood at the edge of Ahamad's Rugs: The Only Way to Fly's parking lot watching the remarkable sunset as his tall ginger haired friend walked about the half-hazard heaps of rolled carpets and rugs inside the dusty pavilion. William Weasley was being directed by a slimy man with too little hair and too much gut.

Bill pulled painfully on the tooth of his earring. It was a habit he had for curbing his temper and curbing his temper he needed. As far as he knew he'd never been the disciplinary sibling, letting his Mum's pressure for another mother hen to fall on Percy who had accepted it readily. But after receiving his friend's owl this morning, Bill was ready to murder his youngest brother. When he'd loaned Ron the blueprints he'd never imagined that his brother would've dared to travel down here. What in the bloody hell was the boy thinking?

Bill was pulled from his murderous thoughts as the squat-owner stopped in front of an unusually large rug. Waving his short wand over the dirty carpet and making its fringe ripple.

"Are you positive this is the flying-carpet they rented, Mister Karim," Bill asked the sales clerk.

"Oh yes, my young friend, this is the exact carpet. The two young women that spoke to me were very adamant about having the best and this sir is the best. I could give you a very good deal if you're interested," he said, galleons and greed sparkling in his dark eyes.

"No thank-you," Bill said, almost feeling guilt at denying the man's offer. It was obvious from the bursting stock and the empty pavilion that Bill and Samir had been his first patrons since yesterday. "But I do have one more question. How many carpets did you send out yesterday?"

The squat owner nodded as he glanced down at his clipboard. "Fourteen carpets and twelve camel carts, it was a very good day but only two carpets went in the direction of the Aker Museum."

Confused, Bill glanced sideways at Samir but only received a useless shrug for an answer.

"What of their departure times?"

Visually annoyed he glared down at his clipboard again, "Eleven for the first company and thirteen hours for the second. Now can I interest you boys in anything or are you going to continue to waste my time?"

Bill shook his head politely, curbing the temptation to sneer at the squat wizard.

Acknowledging that there would be no sale, the manager gave a quick nod, excusing himself.

"So are we going to take the boat or one of these…" trailing off Samir looked around at the piles with disgust. "Flying rugs?"

"Lions club is on the river, so I say barque," Bill answered.

"Wise choice, my friend."

"About the only one I've made in the last two weeks," Bill said an unusual self-depreciating air around him.

Silence settled between them and Bill knew that his friend was agreeing with him.

"Shall I send Horus for the team?" Samir asked.

"I suppose," Bill answered tugging the bottom of his red earlobe.

A silent sigh passed between them before Samir turned to look at him an obvious glitter to his black eyes, "Just like old times."

Bill narrowed his eyes at his old friend's optimism but he couldn't help the nostalgic nervous but not unpleasant feeling that rose inside him at the excitement.

*~*~*

Blaise took in the harsh brown landscape, watching the blurry haze that rose from the tan dunes around him. Fortunately they had missed the dry season but the heat was still oppressive, and caused vile sweat to accumulate on his brow and neck. It was nearly unbearable and made him, for the first time since he'd cut it, glad his ponytail was missing.

But it was still all a reminder of why he despised Egypt.

His mind was littered with memories of his mother bringing him and his sister on many a holiday here and here is where he'd found refuge before his home had been ambushed by Aurors. But still there was something about the roughness of the dry land and the lasting decay of a dynasty that he detested.

He cast a glance back over his shoulder, he'd sent his goons in half-an-hour ago to 'take care' of the security ghost that according to his informant and his antique watch was posted there, and they should've been back already. My God, how long did it take to 'freeze' a ghost these days? He'd practiced enough patience, hard work, and risk with his own life to extract them from their prison and now he was stuck with them. How had Malfoy dealt with such idiots?

Flicking the silver lid of his watch open he swore as he read the time. His informant was late. Did no one find punctuality important anymore? At least Malfoy did, he thought thinking back to when he'd watched the blonde and his fellowship enter the gates of the dead city.

He turned to glance back over the landscape and spotting his companion Blaise felt a smile of relief and anticipation curling his lips. Finally, things were going to be righted.

"Soon Malfoy," he promised to himself. "Soon."

*~*~*

Ginny watched with a small satisfaction as Draco stumbled before her, but grabbing onto the stone walls of the tunnel he righted himself. But Ginny found she was not so fortunate, as she felt the sudden panic and helplessness that came along with sliding against your will and she could only yell as she stumbled clumsily into the shallow water. She flayed her arms in an attempt to break her fall, but unlike Draco her hands only met air. From the sickening pop that echoed from below her knee, Ginny suspected she had broken something even before she landed painful in the shallow water.

"Weasley, are you okay?" Ginny heard Draco's voice, but he sounded miles away and she wasn't sure where he stood until she felt hands around her waist dragging her to her feet.

"Answer me, Weasley," he ordered. "Are you okay? Did you bruise anything more than your ego?"

"No," she snapped, jerking away from him. Despite the ache that traveled up from her ankle, she oddly found herself to be embarrassed.

"Well since it seems your okay. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that I see away out of here for us," he said dryly, pointing behind her.

Following his finger, Ginny saw something that made her both thankful to be out of this cold tunnel and disheartened as her injured ankle would make it very painful to climb it. Flooded in warm light was a long flight of sandstone steps.

"Hobble on Weasley!" Draco said, taking the first few steps through the shallow water.

*~*~*

From the bright red arrow of the You Are Here Map and the line of Muggle and Wizarding torches that lined the visitor's desk she could see they had found their way back to the heart of the museum: The Tourist Center. It was lit well compared to the first time they had run by. She could see the tan bricked-walls were lined with unbreakable-glass cases that were filled with the different artifacts that had been discovered deep inside the tomb.

Draco made quick work of finding a very large purple desk to lift her onto. Wet fabric slapping marble wasn't a welcoming sound to Ginny's ears as he hopped up to sit next to her on the slab. He pulled her injured ankle into his wet lap.

"Let's see it then," he said, and when she didn't move, he sighed. "I mean your ankle Weasley. Now off with your boot so I may have a look at the damage you did." His eyes narrowed on her for a moment. "You didn't expect me to remove it did you?

Because I rarely take off my own shoes much less-"

Ginny tried to drown him out as she unlaced the worn leather string of her boot. Before she removed the top folds, she could fell the orange-sized well of flesh that had been her ankle at one time.

"-that's what I have house-elves for, but I suppose you wouldn't know anything of that would you," he finished, sliding her sock over the ball that was her ankle. From the pain shooting up her leg Ginny was easily able to ignore the softness of his fingers when he pressed around her injury. She tried to suck in her breath to veil her pain but from Draco's sharp look she wasn't doing it very well.

"You broke it, Weasley," he said, patting her ankle with an unusual softness that mildly surprised her.

"Wow, Draco," she replied sarcastically. "Why don't you tell me something I don't already know," she said, trying to slide her leg off the stone slab, but Draco held it still, applying enough pressure to make her yelp.

"Let me go, Malfoy," Ginny warned, but Draco ignored her threat bending over her ankle with his wand.

"Then at least tell me what're you doing?" she questioned.

"Just trust me," he ordered.

It was an odd request that caught Ginny off guard. Stunned with confusion she sat quietly and made no objection as Draco muttered a healing charm over her ankle and she was pleasantly surprised when her ankle stopped throbbing with pain.

"Thanks," she said.

"You saved my life," he answered teasingly. "It's the least I could do."

*~*~*

"Where did you learn to do that?" Ginny asked, taking a bite of the surprisingly dry sandwich that she had stolen from his leather bag.

"A book," he answered.

He felt her skeptic eyes studying him as he took the first bite of his apple. "Why would you take the time to learn Healing magic?"

"I only learned the basics," he said. "It's not as if I'm a certified Mediwizard or anything."

"That didn't answer my question," she challenged.

"Well, at certain times in your life your shamed into taking care of yourself," he answered, remembering the nights he had sneaked into the Manor covered in bruises and scratches after a scuffle with a fellow trainee.

She stared at him for a moment, weighing and measuring his words, trying to decipher his answer.

"You learned healing magic during your trials, didn't you?" He felt a sudden surge of annoyance. "I couldn't very well go ask my mother, now could I? What about you, Weasley? You're an expert on healing sunburn, but can't even fix a sprained ankle."

"I've been healing sunburn since I was a child so it was just second-nature to me, Malfoy. And originally, I had wanted to be a Healer but I met Peter and took what I guess one could say was my true calling, leaving almost everything 'bout healing behind."

"Almost everything?" he asked.

"Well, I still have a tiny thing for potions," she admitted, drawing a circle in the air with her foot. "My ankle feels tons better. Why didn't you do that before I had to take that dreadful flight of stairs?"

"You didn't ask," he answered honestly, taking a bite of the apple he had.

"Always the man of logic, aren't you Malfoy," she said, punching him lightly in the arm.

Not quite believing that Ginny had dared to punch him, Draco looked down at the skin her fist had it then back up to her. "Well, I do try," he teased and felt a grin tugging at his lips. He liked teasing Ginny Weasley and in more than the fun malicious way but all thoughts of teasing fled Draco's mind as the echo of heavy footsteps approaching reached his ears.

Draco's lazy childhood and adolescence had been spent being high on the excitement he got sneaking in-and-out of his father's study taking servant's passages and secret channels to explore his oversized home and spy on anyone his parents dared to entertain. Over the years he'd developed a great instinct when to hide and a sharp ear for hushed conversations and the sound of muffled footsteps but as he'd gotten older and spent less of his time spying Draco had learned to ignore his honed skill.

But this time something overrode his reserve and told him to listen. He didn't know whose shoes the heavy footfall belonged to but Draco stilled anyway, his eyes looking over everything for a place to hide. There was nothing, no visibly decent place for them both to fit, so he quickly grabbed his bag thrusting his hand in and grabbing the map.

He could feel Ginny's dark eyes watching him with curiosity as his fingers followed along the useless lines of the blueprints. Panic was beginning to ebb through his control as the voices grew near and unfortunately Ginny must have finally heard them, because she turned away from him, "Do you hear that?" she asked, through a mouth of sandwich. Draco got a slap of wet hair as she turned her head to the disembodied voices that were only growing louder as they sat there.

"Must be the others," she voiced to him. "Oi!"

Draco clamped his hand over her mouth before she could croak another word and half-carried half-dragged her along the wall, his hand searching desperately for what he hoped was still there. It felt like an eternity before he felt air where there should have been stone. He kept one ear to the voice as his free arm disappeared into the tan-stone wall, measuring how big his niche was. Disappointment flooded him at the size of his hiding-space but having no other options he quickly forced Ginny's small squirming body into the priest's hole he'd been looking for on the blue-prints. Draco sprang back to the desk on light feet, grabbing the blue-prints and his bag in a messy bundle as he waved his wand to clean the mess they'd made.

Ginny had stopped struggling against him. There was something wrong. She could feel it. It was in the way his muscles had tensed and the way he clasped his hand over her lips. She ignored the smell and the taste of dirt and muck that had invaded her mouth from his fingers. He lowered his head until they sat cheek to opposing cheek with one another. She had never seen him look so serious or so very old then at that moment.

When he whispered into her ear, his breath didn't tickle her neck or send butterflies racing to her stomach; his tone was so grave it felt as if she had fallen through a thin-iced lake. "It's imperative that you follow my orders Weasley. Do you understand?" Ginny deftly nodded her head. "You must promise me that you will not speak a word or move a hair until I allow you." Again, Ginny nodded her head.

Their footsteps drew closer, accompanied by a pestering laughter that was oddly familiar to him but Draco couldn't quite place it. However when a gravely voice cut through the rest only to be answered with a drawling rasp, Draco was positive, who stood on the opposite side of their thinly veiled hiding space.

He knew they're run in on the merchant street in Luxor had been no mere coincidence. Why hadn't he thought of it before? In all his research and all his tactical planning why had he failed to make the obvious connection of his former school mate and his father's associate? But now was not the time to search for useless answers and he filed the questions into the back of his mind.

"Hush, you fools," berated Blaise Zabini, in that superior hiss that was usually reserved for house-elves. "So you're positive that Draco Malfoy has no idea we're trailing him."

"Oh yes," answered the demon shop owner, Mr. Pailvouka.

"And they haven't been followed. No one has any knowledge of them being here, correct?"

"No one knows of there whereabouts. Except for maybe the security ghost but-" Draco could hear the cruelty in the demon's unearthly chuckle- "you took care of him."

"That I did," Blaise answered. "And what of you, Mister Pailvouka, have you a tracker?"

"Oh, no sir, it has been mum's-the-word."

"Excellent," Blaise answered, his tone making the fine hairs on Draco's neck stand on end.

*~*~*

Draco ran a shaky hand through his silvery hair as he sat inside the confined space, his knees drawn to his chest and his back to the opposite wall of her own. His wand was drawn before him but Ginny didn't think he was in any mood to try and test it. She could see the concentration furrowing his pale brow and for the first time he didn't hide his fear. She could feel it wafting off of him in cold waves and it scared her. "Draco what's happening?" she whispered into his ear.

"Nothing," he said, laying a finger over his lips to remind her to stay quiet.

"But I hear voices," she prodded, slowly inching her body through the cramped space and across his feet and shins to climb from the unusual nook. "Who's out there?"

She heard him sigh as he forced her back by her shoulders leaning forward until his mouth could reach her ear, "If you insist on knowing its Blaise Zabini. Now, sit down and shut-up or I'll Body Bind you I swear," he hissed into her ear.

Stunned Ginny sat back hugging her knees. She hadn't recognized his voice, but why should she? She'd only known him through case-pictures and at Hogwarts he had been just another shadow lost among the masses. But she could hear it now, in the admiration and fear of his cronies' tones. It was surreal. The infamous Blaise Zabini, the wizard her brother had been hunting for three years, stood a free-man on the outside of the niche she was hiding in.

Her stomach cramped violently. What was she going to do? How were they going to get out of this? If she and Draco were discovered they would surely be dealt with in the manner that they found fit and she didn't want to entertain thoughts of what three Death Eaters saw as being fit.

How were Death Eaters out of Azkaban? Who could have been dumb enough to grant pardon to such horrid men? No one, she answered herself, feeling her face contort with her anger. They had to have escaped and Blaise Zabini had to have been the one to help them.

These were guilty wizards given new lives when they had stolen so many and that fact sent a bitter fear and stubborn will into Ginny's every pore.

She felt her eyes widen at the sudden thump on the outside of their haven. From the whimpering gurgle that accompanied the gorilla like laughter Ginny assumed it had been the man with the hoofed feet that had been thrown close to their feeble stone refuge.

Suddenly Ginny found herself being torn, torn between helping the captured man and staying hidden with Draco. Zabini, Goyle, and the sandy haired man she only knew from his wanted poster had destroyed so many things in their young lives and they were about to do it again.

She'd begun shaking, her wand warm inside her grip and she knew it might spark with her fury but she didn't care. Then she felt them, Draco's long dirty fingers were like a tranquilizer deadening her hand and pushing her wand into her lap.

"We have to help," she begged, but from Draco's expression she knew it was useless. He wouldn't help and he wouldn't let her help either.

He leaned forward his fingers gently pulling her cheek to meet his. "This isn't our fight," he explained softly in her ear. "All we could accomplish is getting ourselves killed."

Ginny was silent, feeling her vigor and valor fading from her in degrees. As much as she loathed admitting it Draco was right. There was nothing they could do without facing certain death or worse. In both shame and sadness Ginny curled into her knees as the man cried out in surprise and pain.

*~*~*

The purple marble desk he hoisted himself on was oddly out of place among all the sandstone and Lebanon cedar but Blaise wasn't terribly worried as he slid himself over the smooth surface. He relaxed on his new found seat, cuffing his wrist with his fingers as he calmly faced Mister Pailvouka a smirk lingering on his lips.

"Where's my payment Zabini?"

If the question had been directed at either of the other two men there, they would have certainly been startled or at least shown some sign of surprise but Blaise just slouched nonchalantly on his stone perch looking at the small swarthy demon.

"Yes, about that," Blaise answered. "I don't actually have it."

"Well, this is as far as I go," said the demon. His dark eye narrowing dangerously on Blaise, and they made it clear to the former Slytherin that this was an intimidation tactic and intimidation wasn't something that boded well with him.

"You'll go as far as I pay you to go, Pailvouka!"

"I don't have to do anything, you little hairless ape," Pailvouka snarled. "I want my payment and I want it now!

"Can't you wait for it?" Blaise asked, confused and annoyed by the demon's sudden lack of respect and cowardice.

"Wait around for Malfoy to pop back with Harry Potter and that Auror. Are you mad?"

"Then I take that as a no?" he asked mockingly. "Well, I don't have-"

Blaise was cut off by the feel of fingers on his chest as they tiny demon attacked him, talented-nails projecting from his scaly hands and his lips curled back in a toothless snarl. But none of his defensive measures mattered as Blaise grabbed him by the waist slamming him into the marble slab pinning him in place with a tan forearm to the throat. Blaise found that his pleasant mood was suddenly nonexistent.

"Who in the hell do you think you are trying to defy me?" Blaise rhetorically asked, through gritted teeth but Pailvouka didn't cow like he had expected. Like he had wanted.

Instead Pailvouka did something, while brave, was practically suicide. He sent spittle of yellow-green mucus onto Blaise's cheek, the acidic spit burning his skin. The cold rage that ran through Blaise at the repulsive act made him shudder as he stayed leaning over the tiny demon. "Now, Mister Pailvouka. I think there's been a change in our payment plan."

In his strop Blaise grabbed the Disrespectful-Pile of shit by the shoulders lifting him off the table and throwing him to the stone floor. Unsuccessfully trying to catch his breath he pulled out his wand, quickly binding the demon with the black rope that slithered from his weapon. He needed to sort his thoughts because this was not how he had planned it all.

*~*~*

Mister Pailvouka began babbling in odd clicks and disgusting slurps. It was a language Ginny had never heard before, but she understood him the same. He was terrified.

"Now, there's no need for that whimpering sir," Zabini continued in his soft purr. "You should count yourself among the lucky, Mister Pailvouka. The boys would have had much more fun had you been a female...but as it's plain you're not. They'll get their kicks somehow."

"Cover your ears and eyes," Draco ordered. Ginny shook her head no. She might cower with him, but she would not pretend that nothing was happening. "Please, cover your ears and eyes."

Coward, she scolded herself, digging her head deeper into the alcove of her thighs and forearms. It was a label that no Weasley, not even Percy could ever have been guilty of being named. Ginny tried hiding in the darkness of her lids, but the action only attuned her to her less used senses.

The sounds assaulted her, the fizzle and whistle of elementary curses cutting through the air, the nauseating thud and crack of flesh meeting stone, and the terrifying hyena cackle that erupted from the "boys" with every successful hex.

But Draco's warm breath against her forearms and bare foot brought her back on the side of their safe immure. He had stayed her wand and her temper saving both of their lives for the moment but it did nothing to appease her anxiety. She hid her face between her trembling forearms, not caring that the thick end of her wand was digging deeply into her shoulder. Usually, she feared the dark but now it was the only safe place to hide from both her anger and her guilt.

Oddly her brother's words rang like relentless church bells in her mind. You're in trouble, real trouble; he'd told her when they had sat at dinner that night. Is this what he had meant?

She pushed her thumb into her mouth biting down on the nail until pain spread from her cuticle and a selfish euphoria swept over her disguised as hope. Why was she so worried? Ron was going to come for her. Ron was going to save her.

But he won't, came a soft voice drowning her delirium. He didn't come for you and your mother before and he won't come for you now.

Yes, he will. He'll come for me, she reassured herself. It was a selfish thought but she wanted him there. No, she needed him there. She needed him to tell her it would be okay, that there was nothing that she could have done, that she had made the right choice by hiding and not fighting. She needed him to tell her that she was safe.

*~*~*

Some could scream for hours, the noise piercing his ears until he could bare it no longer and would force something large and foul passed their lips before binding them closed. He'd been forced to stop his practice after accidentally suffocating a bloke from Beauxbaton, who'd been holding valuable information but Blaise hadn't cared, at the time all he knew was he wanted the cunt to shut-up.

Yes, he didn't particularly care for the Screamers but he would take them over the Comatose any day.

The Comatose, the ones who refused to let a whimper escape their throats or fear read from their eyes. His father once said they were simply too stubborn, but Blaise had always silently disagreed. He believed there was something more than strong will working within them; they were unreachable in another world untouched by threats or pain no matter how much he inflicted upon them.

From the squeaks he made, Mister Pailvouka was proving to be the former and Blaise hoped he wouldn't have to perform a silencing curse on him because as much as he disliked it, he couldn't participate. This was his boys' time to practice before they were to face Weasley and . . . Malfoy.

Superstitiously, his eyes searched both ends of the hall for any sign of movement. "Is he dead yet?" he asked gruffly.

Squatting next to the body, McNair lifted a thin green arm and let if fall lifelessly to the stone floor, "I think so."

"Well, it's about bloody time," he grunted, hopping down from his perch. "I would've been finished an age ago."

"No reason to get snappish, Zabini," McNair commented, standing to his full height. "You're beginning to sound like Malfoy."

Blaise felt a sudden violence surge through him at his understrapper's paralleling. "Don't you ever compare me to that blood traitor again McNair or you and Mister Pailvouka here will find yourself in the same boat. Do you understand?"

Blaise waited for the groveling, but McNair made no move to apologize. He just stood like a pale thin statue, his dark eyes trained on something behind his leader.

At the terror he read in the young mans eyes, Blaise armed with a wand in his hand swiftly turned to face what had shocked his normally long-winded partner into silence. He'd been ready, a curse already set on his tongue, but at the sight before him all he could manage was a weak swear as he stumbled backward.

*~*~*

The light from Harry's wand was dim barely bouncing off the sacred jubilee depicted on the hall that he and Ron were walking down. They had split into twos to cover better ground and like the bad movies Dudley used to watch they had done nothing more than get them lost inside the tomb. Harry couldn't wait to finally find Hermione and Pansy. Confident because Ron was following closely behind he quickly rounded the corner and painfully collided with Hermione and Pansy who both yelped in surprise.

"Sorry," he apologized, embarrassed for knocking them down.

"It's alright," Hermione said, accepting the hand he offered.

"So did you two find anything?" Ron asked.

"Nothing but sand and artifacts," Pansy answered wiping the dust from the backside of her trousers.

His stomach involuntarily tightened at her report. Where were Ginny and Malfoy? This tomb wasn't so big that they could possibly be that lost.

Unless they didn't want to be found, a thought accused. Harry shook his head at his own mind. Maybe Malfoy would have abandoned them but not Ginny. She was loyal and would be entirely too worried about her brother to ever think of leaving him behind.

He looked across the hall at his friend, who was running another hand through his hair. Being an Auror Ron had learned to disguise his emotions well but now he looked white with worry. It had been a long time since Harry had seen him that pale and it wasn't his own safety that he was concerned about. Ginny was missing.

"Where in the hell could they be?" Ron asked, kicking the sandstone wall with his foot and with a yelp of pain filling the silence that had settled over the hall.

~*~*~*~

He and Ginny walked soundlessly down the corridor. They hadn't spoken since Ginny had thanked him for helping her up from the ground of their hidden alcove. But what did he expect her to say? He had just forced her to sit idly by while a man was tortured and killed. It was a mystery to Draco why Blaise had drawn it out, forgoing the Killing Curse. Defense Against the Dark Arts had taught them it was quick, painful, and effective. But what Blaise had had them do it was clear he'd wanted the shop-owner to suffer before being left behind like a piece of rubbish.

Draco had never been happier to hear gasps of surprise and the scuffle and taps of stumbling feet as Blaise and his company laid shocked eyes upon the undead mummies that had been eager to greet the new trespassers. As anxious as he'd been Draco had almost smirked as he listened to Blaise's voice shake as he shouted orders for a retreat. Natural born leader my arse. Draco assumed they'd run all the way to Luxor with their tails tucked firmly between their legs before they'd have the bollocks to stop, but even the comedic aspect of the situation hadn't broken Ginny's sudden spell of silence.

From the sheltered life she had described to him she'd probably never seen anything like it before. He sure hadn't. Even during his trials to join the ranks, his father had never allowed him to dirty his hands. Always insuring that he was given the menial tasks a fact that at the time had hacked him off, but now he was grateful for.

She walked ahead of him, quietly lost in her own thoughts and wanting more than the sound of their heels on stone he grabbed for her wrist but clasped his fingers around her hand. For a moment he held it open in his own, her palm and knuckles were covered in the same soft film of mud that had seeped beneath his fingernails and into the stitches of his clothes, but he was shocked to discover that he'd never noticed how dainty it was before even if she'd chewed the thumbnail down to the quick.

Slowly his eyes crept up her arm to a face pale with the shock she had been suffering. There was a pink rim that lined her eyes and he could see she was holding back tears. But tears for whom? The Brain-Eater? Surely, not.

"You're not crying are you?" The question was harsher than he'd intended and she jerked her hand from his as if he'd burned her.

"No, but if I was, it would be none of your business," she replied softly, but Draco suspected she had more gall behind it and irrationally that annoyed him.

"I don't care if you're angry with me, Weasley. We're alive and that's all that matters."

"But he's not," she rebutted, her rasping voice trying to rise but failing.

Draco stood silent for a moment looking down at his now empty hand, so he was right; this is what the silence was about.

"I don't understand why you care? You didn't even know him," he said.

"As if you did."

Draco didn't answer, now was not the time for confessions but he wouldn't lie to her either. He stared down at her, letting her mind come to its own conclusions.

"Oh Merlin, you did know him didn't you?" she asked, covering her mouth with her filthy hand.

The accusatory look she gave him compelled Draco to turn from her, he needed to walk away but he something wouldn't let him. Something in him needed for her to hear him out. He didn't care if she hated him for it, but he'd made the only choice for them and she had no right to judge it.

"So what if I did, Weasley. So what if I knew what kind of thing he was, so what if I let him die. He likely deserved the way he went, now what does that have to do with me?"

"Did my mother?" she asked and Draco was surprised when he felt his back meet the stone wall, her open hands promising a bruise on his pale chest. Draco jerked back up but couldn't go far as she held him in place between her and the wall. "Huh, Malfoy?! Did my Mother deserve it?! Did she?!"

She shoved him once more for measure before walking away her anger wafting off her. Her statement struck Draco surprisingly hard not from her words but the sadness and anger that filled them. After all the compassion she had given him when it was his time to return it he had failed.

He closed his eyes pinching the bridge of his nose, not wanting to see the tears he knew were racing the sweat down her freckled cheeks. What was he to do now? What words could he say that would remedy this situation?

"I'm sorry. I'd completely forgotten about your mother, Weasley," he admitted. "It was careless of me but-"

"But?" she asked. "There is always a 'but' with you isn't their Malfoy?"

"But," he continued, "You can't make me feel guilty for saving our lives. I won't let you."

"I still think we could've done something," she argued.

Draco groaned, their redundant fighting was tiring and now was not the time for either of them to be righteous. They didn't just have walking artifacts hunting them but Blaise Zabini too and he couldn't be so easily unraveled.

"Look, Malfoy," she started clearly tired of their feuding too. "My feet hurt. My ankle is killing me. I'm cold. I'm tired and as much as I hate to admit it I'm scared. All I want to do is to find my brother and go home."

Her words sent a stab of cold worry into Draco. "Your brother? Go Home? What about my map? Don't you still want to find that?"

"You and your ruddy map can go straight to hell, Draco. I won't put my brother in any more danger for you."

"What about Blaise, Ginny? Do you think that if we just leave that quarter down there it's going to stay put or that he'll just use it to resurrect his dead cat?"

His question caught her off guard and she was quiet, her eyes searching the walls of their hall for an answer. "Fine, I'll find your bloody map," she replied, anger brimming from her voice before she turned around to walk away from him.

"And don't think that mentioning Blaise to your brother would be beneficial either," Draco ordered to the retreating back that quickly turned to face him.

Her dark eyes were wide with uncontainable outrage. "I will not endanger my brother and my friends to lie for you, Malfoy."

"I didn't say that you should lie to your beloved brother, Weasley. But if he knows Zabini's here he'll only put himself in more danger."

She laughed with out mirth. "You really have gone mad haven't you? You're making absolutely no sense."

Draco slowly exhaled through his nose, trying to bridle his aggravation for her sake. As much as she didn't appear it, Ginny was rather fragile at the moment and for someone who claimed to love and protect her brother so much, she knew very little about his behavior.

"If your brother discovers that Blaise Zabini is anywhere near this tomb, he will go after him like a cat on a mouse, which is exactly what Blaise wants to happen."

"My brother's not that rash," she claimed, shaking her head.

He raised his eyebrow to disagree. "Okay...maybe he is but how would you know what Blaise wants?"

"Rules of Chess Ginny, loser always moves first," he stated honestly and not casting her second glance, he clasped her hand in his own like a mother did a child dragging her behind him.

~*~*~*~

"I was so daft. I knew I should've put a Tracking Charm on her," Ron said through clenched teeth. He didn't mean to annoy his companions with his repetitive mantra, but he needed to chastise himself. He had been so enthralled with his operation to entrap Malfoy that he'd lost his sister. Not only had he lost her but he had lost to the one wizard he was trying to arrest.

He had been confident, more hoping, that Ginny would have found her way back to the entrance. He would have found her sitting outside the tomb enjoying the sunrise, but all they'd found was an abandoned security desk. Which Ron had automatically found odd. Why would the Security Ghost have abandoned his post? Yes, they weren't the most reliable form of defense being transparent and all but they weren't prone to leaving their stations. Especially, after the ghost had been so vigilant before.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Harry said, in that patronizing voice that he'd adopted from Hermione.

"He's right Ron," Hermione piped in. "I'm not even sure if a Tracking Charm would have worked here."

"Yes, but at least I would've done something. Instead of letting Malfoy steal her away," he argued.

"Well Weasley, she wasn't exactly struggling to get away from him," Pansy said, ducking her head into a room. "Empty."

At her words anger and vigor began to replace his worry and fatigue as he rushed to catch up to Pansy by the empty room. "Wait, you saw where Malfoy took my sister and just decided to keep quite this whole time," he accused.

"Well, yes," she argued taken aback by his sudden aggression. "It's not as if it was going to help us find them. I'd assumed that they'd moved on by now. It's not as if we stayed put."

She attempted to slide past him but Ron caught her by the arm holding her still. She wasn't going to be so cryptic now. "Where are they Pansy?"

"Let go of me Weasel," she threatened, her bright eyes slitting and her muscles tensing under his fingers. He could feel her reaching for her wand but he wasn't worried.

"C'mon Ron, let her go this is wasting time and not helping anyone," Harry said, standing next to Pansy.

Ron knew his best friend was right but he couldn't let her go just yet. She'd been feeding him riddles and now he wanted the answers.

"Sorry Harry but not 'till she tells me where my sister is," he answered.

"Ron let her go!"

Confused he released Pansy's thin arm and spun to face the voice he'd known all his life. Ron didn't remember running to her, just the knee collapsing relief at holding his baby sister.

~*~*~*~

Ginny stared up at Ron from the floor of the cloaked room. Using her brother's blueprints Draco had led them back to the room where she'd fallen through the floor because everyone but herself agreed that since the priests had bypassed it the first time it had to be the safest place to parley.

"So allegedly you two have just been lost this whole time?" Ron questioned and briefly Ginny wondered if this is what his suspects felt like when being interrogated.

She ignored her wrung hands as she nodded her head. She'd told her brother all that had happened until they'd reached the main room and then let Draco take over from there. She'd listened carefully as he fabricated a well thought out and very believable story. That involved mummies and reducio spells.

"You discovered the Altar room? Are you sure? Where was it? What was is it like? Is it really made out of gold? Were there any Ushabtis?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Ginny felt the dark cloud that had settled over her lessen as she watched Draco's face. She knew and so did he that his plan was only afloat by the Trio's decision to assist him and he was desperately trying to appear polite which was a clearly difficult task.

"One question at a time, Granger," he bit out.

"So you're sure the mastaba is located down there?" Hermione asked, pointing at the missing tile.

"Positive...But there is one small complication," Draco answered. "But no need to worry I have a plan."

*~*~*

The look Harry was shooting Draco was absolutely murderous. From the narrowing of his bright eyes behind his askew glasses to the tapping of his wand on his denim trousered-thigh, Ginny could read he was far from impressed by Draco's plan. And she couldn't help but agree.

"Let me get this straight, Malfoy. You expect me to bait and then out run two lions, so you lot can run in and grab your bloody artifact?" Harry asked.

"Well, you always have been a throw yourself to the lions kind of chap, Potter," he answered. "Look, I would have sent in Granger and Weasley Junior here, but between you and me they're a bit on the clumsy side and we can't have them, being eaten, so what do you think?"

"Not. Bloody. Likely," Harry answered, pausing between each of his words for effect.

"Well it's not as if I'm sending you in alone. You'll have Weasley over there," he said, waving a hand at Ron as if it should have been obvious.

"Are you deaf Malfoy!? We're not doing your stupid plan," Ron answered.

"My hearings just fine Weasley and unless you can come up with anything better I suggest you take my 'stupid plan' into consideration," Draco drawled out lazily.

"Why should I?" Ron asked. "We can easily just walk out of this tomb with no endangerment whatsoever."

Worried because her brother was right, Ginny cast a glance at Draco but sliding his wet silver fringe to the side he seemed completely unperturbed by Ron's answer. He had clearly foreseen her brother's opposition and had planned a counter attack.

"Because a little bird told me that Blaise Zabini's vying for this artifact as well and you can't tell me that you want to see it fall into his hands could you, Weasley?"

*~*~*

From the small amount of wand-light that was pouring onto the still water it seemed that Ginny hadn't fallen as far as she'd originally thought. With wide eyes she knelt beside Hermione as they stared down the missing tile into the flooded hall below. Moments before she'd watched as her brother and Harry had climbed down the rope-ladder Hermione had conjured and disappeared into the darkness.

There was tension in the air around them, that clenched her stomach as she waited for her brother and his friend to pass by and hopefully trailing far behind them would be the two lions.

Faint mingled screams and the slapping of trainers against stone grew in volume, filling the small room. She stared down the hole, straining her eyes to catch any glimpse of red or black hair and in a blur of dark cloaks and boyish screams she knew they'd sprinted passed them. The taste of salt and copper assaulted her tongue as she chewed on her bleeding quick ignoring the quickening of her breath as she questioned her faith in Draco and his plans.

She glanced up at him he looked so different than he had when they'd been hidden behind the desk. Leaning against the sandstone his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. He was staring back at her, his face completely lax displaying the indifference he felt at the situation. She couldn't help but glare at him.

She'd just sent her brother and Harry down a manhole to what could possibly be there deaths and he looked no more concerned than if he'd just sat down to afternoon tea.

Slowly he lowered his arms, pushing himself away from the fall, "Shall we go then. Who's first?"

Ginny's mind went black for a moment and she could do nothing more than blink at him.

"You, Weasley."

"No, I'll go first," Hermione proclaimed, surprising both Malfoy and Ginny. "I'm not only older but-"

"No, Hermione it's fine. I've been down there. You haven't," Ginny said. She watched as Hermione digested her decision but she didn't care what Hermione's opinion would be. She'd made up her mind and no one was going to change it.

"I don't agree with it, Ginny but you can go. I just want you to be safe so do exactly as I said and you should be fine," Hermione said, and Ginny could hear the same concern laced through her voice that she heard when Hermione would talk to her brother and Harry.

A nervous smile twitching her lips, Ginny scooted to the end of the stone, letting her feet dangle down the dark hole. The whicker rungs burned her fingers as she slowly climbed to the bottom of the ladder. She could feel Hermione's shadow and the sudden jostle of her added weight against the rope-ladder. The water lapping against the walls of the hall, soaked through the bottom of her trousers and Ginny stopped bracing herself with a deep breath before jumping through the darkness towards the embankment.

Overcompensation, sent Ginny painfully into the wall and she pulled herself up on her sore ankle rubbing her shoulder and arm as she retrieved her wand from the pocket of her trousers.

Lighting her wand as Hermione's soft footfall followed her Ginny nearly gasped in amazement. Even in the harsh glow of her and her companion's wands, Ginny could see the grandeur this hall must have held before it had been flooded.

"I have read about sacred pools but this is ridiculous," Pansy said, the light of her wand dancing from side to side.

"No, this isn't a sacred lake just overspill from the Nile," Hermione corrected, guiding herself with the help of the stone wall. "It was probably a causeway or maybe an underground hypostyle hall. If I had more time I could probably tell you which. Hey-"

Ginny nearly turned around at her friend's sudden alarm, but was pushed against the moist wall as a heavy body slithered passed her to take the lead. Her wand illuminated the dirty but still pale hair on Draco's head as he stepped ahead of her, his quarter of the map in his hand, his stride quickening with each step. As she followed him around a sharp corner, Ginny wondered why if he had wanted to lead the way why hadn't he been the first down the ladder, but she held her tongue, continuing to follow him deeper into the tomb.

*~*~*

The air from the tomb was a dehydrating-cold that dried her throat as she and her companions moved cautiously into the Altar Room. But Hermione believed it should have been titled differently as it was unlike any altar room she had seen or studied in History or Magic.

The large underground quarter was lit in the same fashion that bordered the rest of the tomb and tinted the odd objects that filled the room in gold. The stone floor was covered with row after row of the same altars metal that reflected the light from the torches. Unconsciously, Hermione moved down a step her eyes searching amid the podiums but to her disappointment there was no map insight.

"Now what're we going to do?" Pansy asked, expressing Hermione's dread. Slowly, she moved down the steps. Walking among the podiums she idly studied the identical books. It was clear they were more lost than Hermione had feared.

"I don't understand," Ginny said, rushing down the steps, her wet trousers and hair slopping water onto the floor. "What is this place?" she asked, turning in Malfoy's direction.

"Well, I haven't an idea," Hermione answered.

"Then who does?" questioned Pansy. Her long frame was barely visible on the opposite side of the room and many rows stood between her and the entrance. "Where are we, Malfoy? Is this the right room or not?!"

"It has to be," Malfoy said. He was looking over the sea of podiums and books. His expression was dark and unreadable as his eyes darted from one row to the next and then from one companion to the other. He reached in his bag extracting the piece of hide that he'd been carrying about and slightly shook it as if trying to find life. "It just has to be."

"That's reassuring," said Pansy, curiously tapping one of the many altars with her wand.

"What about your map, Draco?" Ginny asked, moving closer to him.

"My quarter can only bring us this far. I suppose we must figure out the rest on our own," he answered. He stuffed the cloth back into his leather bag, snapping the silver fasten into place.

He and Ginny looked back over the different altars. What were they going to do? There must have been at least two-hundred different altars standing before them. What were they supposed to do with that? What did a legion of books have in common with his map?

She watched him step forward, his light brow furrowing, his pale eyes moving over every object in the room as he assessed the situation.

"The books," he whispered to himself then louder he stated, "The books. The map's inside one of these books."

"It's inside of a book?" Hermione asked. Her voice was filled with doubt but her dark eyes soon grew wide with realization, "Of course they would hide it inside a book." The former Head girl turned to face the wooden shrines. "But the question begs, which one?"

"Now, that I haven't quite figured out yet," Draco answered, taking the final step down the stairs wearing an expression that could only be disappointment.

Ginny understood why he wore such a long face. It would take them much longer than they had anticipated for Pansy to shuffle through all the different altars and books. She was the only one who could touch them after all.

*~*~*
His father hand handed him all the clues to the riddle, every piece to the puzzle: Pansy, the Egyptian, Weasley, the Auror, Mister Pailvouka the shop owner, and Ginny Weasley, the Untouchable. And until now every piece had fallen effortlessly into place, fitting smoothly into the overall picture but Ginny Weasley. She was like trying to fit a square peg of granite through a circle-hole of marble and now matter how hard Draco tried, no matter which angle he chose, he couldn't figure out what her function was.

What was her job? he asked himself but his mind only answered with trivial things. Ginny had been so many things had done so many jobs: research, stealing, and stupid menial tasks that she was overly qualified for. But not one of those things could possible he what Father had meant for her. She has much better uses than your bed.

Draco internally looked over his jigsaw again, his mind connecting and assembling every piece into place and yet the void continued to mock him.

What was her primary use boy? a voice that sounded ridiculously like his father questioned.

Unconsciously sneering at the challenge Draco let out an anger-filled breath, clearing his mind and opening the dossier that was Ginny Weasley and as easily as he tapped into his memory his riddle was answered.

"Weasley," he beckoned, feeling the tingle of excitement replacing the numb of disappointment.

At the drawling sound of her surname, Ginny turned to find Draco moving toward her. The dripping shoulder-bag, he'd been attached to the entirety of trip, tapping freely against his thigh.

"What?" she asked, curiosity growing in her as she watched his pale-eyes begin to glitter.

Wagging a long finger at her Draco was nearly smirking when he reached her. "You're going to find my map for me." It wasn't a question. It was an order.

Ginny felt her mouth drop open with confusion, "What? How?"

"Your party-trick, your hidden talent, your bloody sixth-sense… Well, whatever in the hell you call it, its going to find which of these shrines is holding my map captive."

"No, I can't. I can only feel cursed objects. It'll be just like the map. I won't feel anything," she answered, hating that she had to sever Draco's proposal, but his eyes showed no signs of disappointment.

"That's not true, Weasley. What about my Mother's money purse? It has hardly a stitch of magic in it at all and you felt something from it, didn't you?"

It didn't take much for Ginny to realize that Draco was right. She hadn't felt any evidence that his mother's purse had been cursed but she'd seen entire scenes of Narcissa's life. Maybe her 'skill' had grown, maybe it had morphed into something else, or maybe it had been just a fluke but Ginny didn't have time to question her unwanted gift.

"I'll do it, but I can't guarantee that it will work."

"Good," he said waving an arm around. "Pansy will open the doors and you'll test the book it's that simple."

Suddenly worried that Narcissa's purse was an isolated incident, Ginny spun him by the arm to face her. "Okay, but what if I touch the map, and don't feel anything and by pass it," she whispered to him.

Draco gave her a half-attempted smile. "Then it's best that doesn't happen."

*~*~*

A nagging pessimism kept Ginny from believing that this hunt wasn't anything but a hopeless cause. She and Pansy were beginning work on the fourth row altars but it felt as if they'd been doing it for hours. Opening, alter after alter and testing book after book.

But the result was always the same: Nothing. Sure, she'd gotten a tiny flash from a few of the golden books but it shown nothing more than a spark of static.

Pansy paused, her long fingers wrapped tightly around the golden handles. She let go, turning on her heel to Draco who was standing to her left, stroking his chin. Pansy's crystal eyes and crossed arms showed the contempt she was feeling. "I'm tired of doing this, Draco," she said, defiantly. "This is useless. Your map's obviously not here."

Leaning her back against the previous altar, Ginny couldn't help but agree with Pansy. This was exhausting and a complete waste of time. But Draco looked unaffected by their cynicism and Pansy's threatening tone.

"One more," he ordered, quietly.

"Come on, Draco," Pansy whined and Ginny had the distinct feeling Pansy was two stages away from throwing a fit.

"One more," he said more assertively. His pale eyebrows knitting as his glare shifted from the altar to Pansy and back again.

"Fine!" Pansy screeched, turning to face the altar again. "Fine!" she repeated, grabbing the golden handles and reciting the engraved password in an unintelligible whisper. "But I swear this is the last one," she finished, pulling the pair of small doors apart, revealing the golden book they held inside.

Ginny sighed, lazily pushing herself away from the altar's wall. Fatigue and tension were beginning to weigh on her and walking over Ginny's shoes felt as if they were made of lead. Turning away from Pansy, she silently thanked the lanky widow for her fit. This was going to be the last bloody book she had to touch and when it was done, she would leave this bloody tomb, hop a train to get out of this bloody country, get home to bed and sleep off this bloody awful day. But at her first glance of this new tome, Ginny knew that would not be the case.

Disappointment didn't follow this knowledge as Ginny would have expected, instead an almost ethereal feeling fell over her.

The book was by far the most exquisite she'd seen. Gold and turquoise mapped out the hieroglyphic characters as it sat on it's on thrown of ebony. It demanded to be watched, to be respected, to be worshipped.

"Well, go on," Draco prodded, and as if she was being snapped out of hypnosis Ginny was suddenly aware that she hadn't moved. Taking a deep breath to compose herself she plunged her hand into the dark altar, laying her palm flat on the cold metal.

It was as if she were laying flat on a broomstick, watching the scene play out from above. The room was dark, lit only by the fires of a few alabaster bowls but she could make out dark figures preparing the room below her. Near naked men dressed only in small brown kilts and each bearing a unique gold amulet worn over their chests. But one stood alone and out to her, he was adorned in bright robes that swept down his long frame as did his auburn beard. She could see he was placing something inside the shrine they circled but even squinting her eyes she could not make it out, but something inside her knew what it was: Draco's map.

Wands, scepters, and wooden staffs were drawn and in a mixture of light and electricity the small piece of animal hide and black ink lurched into a more square and polished shape.

"Ginny?"

At the sound of her name Ginny fought to hold onto to her insight, to be certain that what she had seen was real but the feminine voice was persistent and beckoned to her again. She let go and fell from the safety of the ceiling, through the altar she'd been floating above to the cold floor. Her vision was over and Hermione's voice was anchoring her back to reality. The dark room was dissolving away, mutating into the reality she knew before, and the first familiar face she saw was Draco's.

His metallic eyes were dark and creased as he stared down at her. It was clear he wasn't familiar with an empathetic seizure but she didn't have time to hold his hand through it.

"It's the book!" she gasped, surprised how sweet the air felt filling her lungs.

"It's the book. It was transfigured or something, I'm not sure. There were so many of them that I'm not sure what they did?"

"Who are they, Ginny? What did they do?" Hermione asked.

But Ginny ignored her and turned to Malfoy, clasping his dirt stained collar desperately." The priests they did something to it. You have to believe me, I saw them. I saw him. The map's the book."

"The map's inside the book?" Pansy asked, trying to pry the metallic cover open.

"No. No, the map is the book," she spat back, hopelessly. "Trust me. Just do the bloody ritual." She quickly covered her mouth a vain attempt to stop whatever was trying to find its way back up. Even as Ginny crawled away from them, Hermione could see that the small redhead was going to be violently ill. She felt the need to go after her, but from experience she knew it would do no good.

"Is she okay?" Pansy asked, not sounding very concerned.

"She's okay," Malfoy said curtly but there was something distorted in his tone. "Now do as she said, get moving Pansy!" Malfoy opened his bag removing something shiny and sharp and thrust it at Pansy.

No words were said and it seemed as if everyone but the small red-head was holding a breath as they moved around Pansy and the solitary altar. Even in the torchlight her crystal-eyes were bright and she sucked her bottom-lip into her teeth mentally preparing herself. She took the dagger by the hilt from Malfoy and brought the blade across the tip of her index finger, drawing a line of dark-blood that dripped down the mirror-blade.

"Do you have the instructions?" Pansy asked her in an almost trembling voice.

Hermione remembered the waterproof paper inside her trouser pocket and pulled it out, ready to hand it to Pansy. All movement seemed to slow down as she watched Pansy take the yellowed paper from her with a thankful nod. She began tracing her finger along the text of the book, smearing blood over the metallic cover, drowning Ginny's retching as she recited the translated script.

Malfoy's greedy eyes moved slowly between the book and Ginny. His attention seemed almost torn between watching her and finally grasping his treasure.

The treasure won.

Grasping it with both her hands, Pansy popped the book from its altar breaking whatever spell had enchanted it as it morphed into a twin of what Malfoy had been carrying.

Everything was silent for a moment, even Ginny's retching seemed to have stopped in the timeless instant but the silence was split as the screech of stone against stone assaulted their ears. A river of yellow poured from the ceiling, sand quickly mounding on the floor as Hermione's eyes darted around the room, her mind trying to digest the scene. But cleverness wasn't going to stop the enfolding walls from crushing them or stop the sand from drowning them. No, only instinct and light feet could save them now.

"We have to get out!" she yelled, weaving between the toppling wooden shrines to get Ginny but Malfoy had beaten her to the girl. Hermione gasped at the sight her friend made. Her dark swollen eyes were open in her ashen face but Ginny looked worse than Hermione had ever seen her before. But Malfoy seemed unperturbed as he helped her up using his own body as a crutch.

"Get the book, the dagger, and Pansy. Then go," he directed, propping Ginny against the base of the entrance and removing his wand.

Her stomach cramped as the stone tiles of the ceiling began to splash and crack against the floor of the tunnel, "I'm not leaving her alone with you."

"I'm not giving you a choice Granger. Now get the hell out of here!" he ordered through gritted teeth, lifting Ginny's sagging body.

The redhead raised herself on wobbly legs, trying to push Malfoy away from her. "I don't need your help, Malfoy. I can walk," Ginny croaked.

Malfoy's face was creased with aggravation as he held onto Ginny's arm keeping her upright. "Do you want to fall on your face Weasley?" Ginny did nothing but glare at him. "Then stop being a stubborn cow and let somebody help you."

Malfoy turned to face Hermione. His eyes narrowed as if she had caught him doing something he was highly embarrassed of and was daring her to say something.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get Pansy and get out of here?"

Turning around to gather Pansy, Hermione almost swore aloud. Pansy was splayed across the stone floor, the leather-piece she had been holding feet away from her body. Cursing Ron and Harry for not being there, Hermione ran to the collapsed girl. Ignoring the brown-map near her hand, Hermione knelt beside her.

"Malfoy!" Hermione heard herself screech when Pansy wouldn't rise.

"What now, Granger?!" he hissed, turning with a barely conscious Ginny by his side.

Hermione had no need to explain herself as a very rude and very lengthy string of French and English streamed from Malfoy.

*~*~*

The thunderous grumble and the ceiling's stones slapping the water as it collapsed made Draco feel as if he was marching through a pregnant storm cloud and not an imploding tomb. His shoulder and back burned supporting a near deadweight Pansy as he maneuvered them over the narrow and hidden embankment. Yes, she had already been spindly and Granger had cut her weight in half with a charm but she was still more than he was used to carrying when running through waist high water. But even his burning muscles, the menacing roar of the stones, and the foul water couldn't stop a small grin from escaping his lips. He had another fourth of his map and he was almost free of this tomb and that was all that mattered.

Well, almost all that matters, a small voice interjected.

But Draco ignored it rounding the last corner, he listened to the echoes of Granger's optimistic voice and encouraging words to Ginny as the water continued to rise and they waded through it ahead of him.

Suddenly they stopped. "Harry? What are you doing down here? You should be upstairs with Ron," he heard Granger ask.

"Long story. Where's Malfoy and Pansy? And what happened to Ginny?" Potter asked.

"Long story," she replied. "That I'll tell you later but we need to get out of here. Now!"

"Then let's get you two up," Potter said and as Draco neared he could see the three figures and the rising brown water bathed in the light from the missing tile.

"Ginny and Pansy aren't strong enough to pull themselves up, Harry," Granger said handing Ginny to Harry as the water reached her chest.

But soon Draco was watching Ginny move up through the missing tile without touching a single rung and felt a wash of unexplainable relief as he quickened his trudging.

*~*~*

Ginny didn't walk but crawled away from the hole in the floor. The stones beneath her were shaking and as if her bones had been removed she fell the small distance to the floor, her cheek slapping against the dusty stone. The camouflaged door way was gone replaced by the mummies. She had a bug's eye view from the floor listening to the heavy breathing, the slapping of water soaked clothes on stone as another person collapsed on the stone floor.

She wanted to scream, to cry out and alert everyone but her body refused to obey her. Her limbs protested as she commanded them to work. It was as if someone had hit her with a body bind curse and she could do nothing but watch as the mummies were cast away from the door in a colorful shower of sizzles and flashes.

Relief and panic fought inside Ginny. The threshold was empty, filled only with shadows and rotten air and Ginny wondered if everyone could hear her heart trying to beat it's way out of her chest as she waited for the persons who had rid them of their mummies, to show themselves. She prayed to herself that it wasn't Blaise, that it was someone else, the security ghost, a lost tourist, anyone but Blaise Zabini but as the tall figure stepped into the archway the world suddenly began shrinking as if someone had turned a pair of Omnioculars around on her and as suddenly as it began it stopped leaving her in total darkness.

*~*~*

What's wrong with Ginny?

How should I know?

You're the one that's been with her all day?

Stop bickering and help me pick her up. She needs a Mediwitch.

The first image to swim into Pansy's vision was the warm crowfeet edged eyes of her Mediwitch. Her head was clear and her body felt well rested but there was an aching in her stomach that needed to be filled.

"You're awake," said the nurse giving Pansy a motherly smile that made her feel slightly uneasy. "Your friends will be so happy to hear that. Should I send for them?"

"No," Pansy answered, but surprising to her, her voice came out in a rough whisper.

The nurse swiveled in her chair and grabbed the silver pitcher, pouring a tall glass of water. Pansy nodded her head in thanks and disregarded every etiquette lesson her mother ever taught her gulping the cool water until she felt the last drop on her tongue.

"My friends?" she asked, certain that she had another dozen names picked for them and that friends was certainly not it.

"You mean the two young ladies...Well the gabby one-"

"Granger, Hermione Granger."

"Yes, I believe that was her name," the mediwitch answered, adding some measured clear liquid into a purple cup. "She only needed the cut on her arm mended and the bones in her hand mended where she broke them. The shorter fiery one-"

"Weasley?" Pansy asked, pushing herself up into a sitting position against her headboard.

"Yes, Ginny Weasely," she answered. "She came in much like you but just needed to be hydrated then we let her go."

"What about the boys?"

"Besides a few cuts and bruises they were all fine. They should all be in the dining tent, if you feel up to joining them."

Eager to leave, Pansy went to pull her covers down but stopped, remembering that the entirety of her wardrobe had been stolen. She'd have to stay until Granger or the female Weasley came by for a checkup before she could get any decent clothes and her growling stomach did not want to wait that long.

"Would you send an apprentice or intern or whoever for the two females that I'm traveling with? Because I could certainly use a change of clothes," Pansy said, lying back in her bed.

"Of course dear, I assume you didn't like the outfit that the boy brought for you," Doloris answered, pointing at the faded orange t-shirt and ghastly green trousers laid out on the footboard of Pansy's bed.

*~*~*

Ginny felt nothing as she stood outside the Dining tent looking upon the busy compound her eldest brother had built in less than twenty-four hours, the different wizards who worked under him and his friend Samir ran about the maze of green and brown tents in an orderly chaos she still failed to understand. For any other wizard it might have been deemed impressive but for Bill it was elementary.

Her brother's workers ignored her letting her blend into the green of the tent behind her and she preferred it. She'd been trying to stay out of everyone's way since she'd awoken inside the meditent, concerned blue-eyes bearing into her own. She wasn't disregarding her brothers' or her friends' concern she was just choosing to avoid them.

She was far from happy with herself and could tell no one why. If any of them were to find out they'd surely resent her. It was something she had trouble admitting to herself. She'd let someone die. Ginny Weasley had let someone be killed. Did that make her and Draco murderers? With his nonchalant behavior Draco didn't seem to think so, but clearly he believed there was a difference between what should and what had to be done.

Ginny closed her eyes against the headache worming its way in. She hadn't slept well in the medi-tent even after the dreamless potion the Mediwitch had given her and she was beginning to feel the effects of denying her body rest. She was unable to shake her fatigue even after the frigid shower she took that only left her cold and tired.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her Ginny forced her lids open despite their heavy and sandpaper feel. Staring back at the owner of the curious bright-eyes Ginny was unsurprised and unconcerned at whom she saw. She knew he wouldn't ask her or say anything to her brother. He wouldn't know what to say. Harry never did. So she smiled and nodded her head at him receiving one from him in return before they resumed politely ignoring each other. But even after Harry passed her to walk inside the Dining tent, the feeling of being watched didn't abandon her compelling Ginny to finally take lunch and follow him in.

Looking for her seat Ginny wondered if staying outside with the stalked feeling would not have been such a bad idea. She felt she could have been knocked to the ground with the amount of tension that hit her as she walked down the short aisle and took a seat on the bench behind her brother. From the unusual manner Hermione and Harry were eating their meals and the fact that Ron and Bill weren't eating at all, Ginny assumed that she had walked into an already strained atmosphere.

"I had everything under control!" Ron yelled at her older brother, his knuckles white around his empty plastic-fork.

"Really?" Bill asked, and for the second time in her life Ginny saw his face as red as Ron's. "It sure as hell didn't seem that way to me or the Magic Reversal Squad. What in the hell were you thinking? Oh wait, you weren't."

"You're treating us like a bunch of children. We're grown wizards, Bill. You should start treating us like them," Ron said standing, his fork abandoned in a clatter on his plate.

Never the one to play family mediator, Ginny just sat silently as Bill laid a heavy hand on Ron's shoulder gently pushing him back onto his seat. "Start acting like one and I just might."

"Look you three," Bill began, his tone much softer than before as addressed the three friends. "There are going to be a good deal of questions and I know I can't get all of the answers I need now. But don't think I'm going to forget this anytime soon."

The room sat in stunned silence as Bill stood up, straightening the collar of his green robe. "Now, I want you packed-up. Your train's leaving at five-past-five." Ginny's eyes followed her brother's quick progress to the flapped door and before he left turned to face them. "Don't be late."

Ginny took a deep breath of relief at the dodging of the row and the postponement of the inevitable questions she was sure each of her brothers' had. But her reprieve was short lived as Ron swung around in his seat to glare at her, his ears bleeding into his hair and his face unnaturally plum in color, "This is your fault, you know."

Shocked by his anger and honesty Ginny could only stare at him for a moment. He was right, it was her fault. If she hadn't been trying to help Draco then none of them would have come down here and Bill certainly wouldn't be so outraged. But her stubborn pride kept her from wilting to her brother's anger. "Then don't talk to me Ron."

He didn't. Actually no one spoke a word the remainder of the afternoon. Maybe it was from aggravation or just exhaustion but all were silent as they boarded the train that Bill had booked them on.

The station was barely out of sight when Pansy hopped up from her seat, straightening her faded orange t-shirt and disappearing out of the sliding door. Confused Ginny looked to her other companions for an explanation but found them stacked like fallen dominoes in their seat. Hermione's unruly curls were pressed flat against the pane, her book unread and forgotten on her lap. Harry was leaned against her, the black hood of his pullover hiding his untamed mane and Ron's head was on his shoulder, his eyes shut tight beneath his bright red fringe. Shortly after their train departed Pansy disappeared to the dining cart while everyone tried to get comfortable in their seats.

Ginny felt a sudden jealousy bubble in her at the sight they made but it wasn't just the intimate bond that brought along this particular wave of envy. It was the blissful sleep that she couldn't join them in. Images were flying across her mind as fast as the smoky scenery outside their window, each picture demanding her acknowledgement but she wasn't alone in her insomnia.

Draco was the only other person in their compartment who hadn't succumbed to the fatigue of their journey and Ginny watched him as he used the light of the window to study both existing pieces of his map. After everything that had happened to them in the past forty-eight hours, he still seemed to be the same Draco Malfoy, living in his own world as he tried to match the pieces. Silently sighing, he carefully laid them inside his leather bag, giving the appearance of defeat but she knew better. Draco was tenacious and the two pieces wouldn't stay as separate pieces for very long.

Lying back on his head rest, he closed his eyes and Ginny assumed he was failing miserably at trying to beat back a headache. He looked so young and tired and...alone.

Ginny didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to feel sympathy for Malfoy. He'd done this to himself, pushing everyone away with his toxic personality. But try as she might she couldn't completely disregard his state even after the things he'd said to her and that alone made Ginny feel ill.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, looking up at her as she stood.

Not turning around Ginny answered, "The loo."

*~*~*

Ginny could hear footsteps behind her but paid them no mind. There were many people on this outgoing train and she was sure everyone would end up following one another at some point. She had her hand on the long cold knob, when she felt the man behind her was not merely another passenger.

"I need to talk to you," he drawled in her ear, following as she stepped inside the tiny compartment.

"What is it Draco?" she asked, slowly turning around in the cramped space. "Why aren't you asleep like everyone else?"

"I don't make a habit out of falling asleep in public, Weasley," he answered, his voice just as aggressive as when they'd fought inside the temple. "And I have more important things to take care of."

"If you needed to use the toilet, Draco. You could have just said so," Ginny answered, moving to walk around him but Draco laid his hand on the sink, his long arm stopping her.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Ginny narrowed her eyes looking up at him, "Let's have it then, Malfoy. What do you want?"

"How could you think you are a higher priority than her-"

Anger spiked in Ginny at his accusation and only fatigue and confusion kept her from sparring back at him. "Than who? Pansy?"

"Stop playing the fool, Weasley. You know exactly who?" he spat back.

Ginny stared back at him struck mute with anger and ignorance.

"My mother, Weasley. How could you think that we'd take precedence over her?"

Ginny snorted in astonishment. She'd always known that Draco Malfoy had been born with an overwhelming since of pride and smugness but at this moment it was ridiculously overbearing.

"You honestly believe I care more about shagging you then finding the rest of that bloody map, do you?"

He lifted a delicate shoulder, leaning against the porcelain realm of the sink.

"Then you're a bigger fool then I ever thought you could be," Ginny answered. "I mean... Who do you think I've been doing this for? After everything you've said to me, why in the hell do you think I'm still here? My health."

"Money," he said calmly and Ginny couldn't help but think that his answer was directed as an insult and for a minute she had the urge to thump him and wasn't sure why.

"You just keep getting dumber and dumber don't you Malfoy?" she asked, her voice laced with cynical laughter. "But since we're being so open and honest what other problems do you have with me? Is my hair too red? My temper too short?"

"No Weasley, your perfect except for you passive-aggressive dictatorial attitude thinking you reserve the right to tell me what I can and can not do?" he accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"When have I ever told you what to do?"

"The other night, you told me to stay away from you and I'm telling you that I don't have to."

"That's right because you're Draco Malfoy and Malfoy's can do whatever they bloody well please-" Ginny mocked.

"Are you not even listening to what I'm saying Weasley?" he asked, grabbing her by both arms. For a minute the only sound was the rumble of the train around them until Ginny pushed him away from her.

"Don't Draco," she ordered. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear because you're scared that I might tell Ron or someone about what we saw happen. Because I'm most definitely not going to."

"I'm not telling you this because I think you want to hear it, Weasley. I don't care if this is what you want or not. All I know is that it's what I want."

Ginny scoffed, "So you finally know what you want. What might I ask brought about this little epiphany?"

He stood silent making Ginny wonder what information his mind could be contemplating over. What were the risks it was calculating?

"Well," she prodded.

He sighed. "Would you like the truth or what I'd prefer to tell you?" he asked lightly.

"The truth is fine," she answered matching his tone.

He let out a long breath. "All right then, my only answer could be... You did."

"What? When?" she asked, confused.

"I don't know," he answered, suddenly entranced by the striped wall paper and the taste of the inside of his cheek.

"You don't know?" she asked, vexed by his answer.

"That's what I said isn't it," he snapped as if she'd just stepped on the tail of his new cloak.

"Yes, because 'I don't know' is a good enough answer and might I add reason for you to invite yourself on my loo trip," she shot back.

"Fine, you want the truth Weasley," he started his voice dull and his arms crossed. "When we were in the temple without question you gave everything you could to help. And for what gain? None-"

"Not true," she said jokingly. "Two of my brother's now officially hate me."

"Your brothers don't hate you, Weasley and if they do then they're dumber than I ever gave them credit for but I didn't come in here to discuss your brothers-"

"Why did you come in here?" she asked, cutting him short.

Gray-eyes narrowed but it didn't falter her. "To thank you," he said his voice surprisingly sincere.

Ginny was stunned silent for a moment by his gratitude and then couldn't help but laugh at the situation. He had followed her into the toilet to attack her with outrageous accusations just to turn right around and thank her.

"You make about as much sense as a garden gnome Draco Malfoy," she said, unable to contain her mirth.

He only sneered at her childish insult and giggles but Ginny could see he was swallowing his retort.

"So you attack people to show your gratitude is that it?" she asked, still grinning. "You must have really been grateful to Harry and Ron then."

"I don't randomly attack people Weasley and I certainly didn't attack you... I baited you. There's a difference."

"So you bait people to be thankful that clears it right up," she said, sarcasm dripping.

"No, I baited you so you'd be vulnerable and frank. Nothing gets honesty better than a flared temper . . . Especially yours."

"So everything you just said was a lie."

"Now, I didn't say that did I?...But because of you I am one step closer to Mother's cure."

"Now don't credit me with that Malfoy. There were a lot more people-"

"Don't be humble, Weasley."

"I'm not, I'm being honest."

"So am I-" she said, but was cut short at the loud knock on the door.

Shocked she and Draco stared at one another. Quickly, he ushered her behind him and slid the door open a crack before snapping it shut again. "Your brother's out there," he whispered.

"So?"

"You don't understand he's right outside the door. He's probably curious as to why I shut it in his face."

"So? Let's just go," she murmured, unable to see as to why they were whispering. It was just Ron.

"As much as I'd love to hack your brother off Weasley. I'd also like to leave this train in one piece."

"Alright Mister Cunning then what do you presume we do?"

Gray-eyes searched the walls landing on the low wooden-door under the vanity.

"Get in here," he said, opening the door to the tiny storage cupboard.

"I'm not hiding in a bloody cupboard Draco," she argued, jerking away from his outreached hand.

"Well, I don't see anywhere else you could hide and besides compared to the priest's hole it looks almost roomy," he whispered.

"If it's so great then why don't you hide in here," she said bitterly, squatting down into the small crawl-space between a box of cleaning potions and a pile of paper-rolls.

"You're shorter and will naturally fit easier," he answered smirking down at her and without another word shut the small door.

The cupboard walls were thin and Ginny could easily hear the compartment door slide open.

"Weasley," Draco addressed her brother icily.

"Malfoy," her brother's voice answered curtly. Shuffled feet accompanied the rolling door and Ginny was prepared to plug her ears against whatever her brother planned to do when the door suddenly eased open again.

"Finally we're alone," said a familiar voice. Stunned Ginny sat immobile. Why was Harry in the lav with her brother and why was he so happy that they were finally alone? Curious she pressed her ear against the door trying desperately to hear their conversation through the thin wood.

"I know," Ron answered, "Where's Hermione?"

"Still asleep," Harry answered. "I thought she deserved it after...everything."

"You're right... Well, do you have it?"

"Of course I have it," Harry answered and the sound of a zipper parting made Ginny wish she were anywhere else but stuck in that supply cupboard. Damn Malfoy for thinking this was the best place for her to hide. "Nicked it right after you left but I could only copy one of them."

She strained her ears listening to the muffled sound of whatever was exchanging hands.

"That's okay. This is excellent, Harry," Ron congratulated. "This should be more than enough to get the tosser convicted."

Ginny held her breath trying to catch every word. Who was her brother trying to convict? And why were he and Harry discussing it in a lavatory?

The quiet hiss of the locomotive brakes seemed to jostle all three of them.

Ron swore. "We're almost at the station, we'll have to finish talking about this at home."

"Yeah, I'll go back first so we don't look suspicious," Harry offered, taking whatever he had given Ron earlier and zipping it back up in what Ginny hoped was the pullover he was wearing before. Harry left quietly and Ron followed after leaving the lavatory silent except for the train's quiet hiss of their arrival.

The bitter taste of copper assaulted her and Ginny pulled her thumb from between her teeth. She was trembling as endless unanswerable questions went streaming through her mind too frenzied to focus on but seven words did boldly stick out: What in the hell was going on?

*~*~*

TBC

Special Thanks to: Tegan and The Lovely Lioness for being there.

And Big Thank yous to: Chikkalaura, Reese Darling, Cute Sleeper, Ezmerelda, megh, Awen and Anasis, crazy kitten, prue1912, Fe, sexybabehp17, Miranda, Kirixchi