(A/N: I feel I should remind my readers that Ginny was Not At All A Nice Person in the last two books. Sorry.
Beta proofing provided by MirielleGrey, who advised on some of the behavior we see - or rather, don't see - in this chapter. I tried not to infodump, but you've got to admit I've answered a great many questions.)
(Disclaimer: No, there has been no recent realignment of the Cosmic Axis to make me suddenly owner of Harry Potter and his world. Pity, that.)
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"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
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XVII: Payment Due On Past Mistakes
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Under Hermione's hard scrutiny, Ginny began to fidget. She wisely said nothing further, and after a moment, Hermione said, "Sit down. I'll make some tea - and this had better be good."
Tea took only seconds, using magic, and Hermione was back in the living room with a tray of three cups before Ron and Ginny had settled onto the sofa and chair, respectively. Hermione set the tray on the table, ignoring the paperwork already there, and selected a cup for herself. She sat on the sofa, the only spot left to sit, but as far from Ron's end of the sofa as she comfortably could. "All right, let's start. Ron, do you know what this is about?"
Ron shook his head. "Gin showed up at my flat and said she had to talk to you, but absolutely not in your office. Convinced me it was a matter of life and death. Beyond that…" He shrugged helplessly.
"I see. All right, Ginny, start at the beginning." Hermione restrained her urge to interrogate Ginny… at least for the moment.
Ginny took a moment to sip her tea and collect her thoughts. "When I saw today's Prophet, I recognized the man in the photo. We've met before. I didn't know at the time his name was Jack Swivingham," she added hastily, "and I certainly didn't know what sorts of dodgy business he was involved in! He…"
"Where could you have met him, Gin?" Ron interrupted. "Don't tell me you've been slumming in Knockturn Alley! That's no place for…"
"A decent young witch like myself," finished Ginny. "Merlin, Ron, you're channeling Percy again! No, I haven't been to Knockturn Alley, thanks for the vote of confidence. No, I've seen him at…" She hesitated, and kept her gaze on Hermione as she finished, "…at Blaise Zabini's manor house."
"Zabini?!" Ron's tone was a perfect blend of incredulity and disgust.
"Will you get over your old anti-Slytherin prejudices?" Ginny snapped. "Blaise is a respected politician in the Ministry - and a rising star there, practically a member of the Minister's cabinet. He's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Perhaps," said Hermione neutrally. "So how did you come to be at his home?"
"Blaise will occasionally have a few people to his manor," Ginny explained, evidently choosing her words with care, "private, informal get-togethers. I don't know if you…"
"Fire Parties?" Hermione put in dryly, and smirked at Ginny's surprised look. "Oh yes, tales of them have reached even my ears. For obvious reasons, I've never been to one." She looked at Ron and explained, "As far as I can tell, Ron, they're very exclusive parties, by invitation only… and only Purebloods seem to get invited."
"It's not a question of blood, Hermione," said Ginny defensively. "Blaise isn't like that. He'd never have reached his current position if he believed the old supremacist line - you know that as well as I do."
"I know that no modern politician can afford to spout the old supremacist line," rejoined Hermione. "But he certainly believed it when we were at Hogwarts."
"Well, then, he's changed," Ginny insisted. "Some people do, you know! Fire Parties are just… just a chance for folks who've been raised in a common culture, wizarding culture, to get together and relax. There's nothing sinister about it!"
"And yet, somehow, I feel sure that Ron, or your father, would never be invited." Hermione shook her head sharply. "Never mind. I assume you met Swivingham at one of these parties?"
"Not as a guest," hedged Ginny. "He was… that is…" She paused, obviously trying to find the right words. "If you've heard of them, you've probably guessed that a fair bit of, shall we say, social networking goes on at a Fire Party…"
"Is that how you were invited? Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, figure in the public eye and all that?"
"Not exactly. I was seeing David Midgen at the time - back when he was starting up his new music network, the alternative to WWN, you know? He brought me to Blaise's first party, and…" Ginny stopped.
"And you've been attending them ever since? How… upwardly mobile of you," said Hermione sardonically.
"So why're they called 'Fire Parties'?" put in Ron, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Does Zabini have a volcano in his living room, or something?"
"It's a play on Blaise's name," Hermione replied absently. "His, and his co-host's… hostess, I should say…" She broke off abruptly and stared at Ginny's fiery red hair, as the penny dropped loudly in her head. "Blaise and Flame," she finished softly, her voice a challenge.
Ginny met her gaze without flinching. She said nothing.
Hermione waited.
"Yes," Ginny finally admitted, equally softly.
"You're Flame… you've been the hostess for Blaise Zabini's 'old-boy-network' social gatherings," Hermione spelled it out. "Are you and Blaise…?"
Ginny lifted her chin defiantly. "I don't think that has any bearing on the current discussion."
"I'll be the judge of what does or doesn't have any bearing on our discussion," Hermione shot back, while Ron stared at his sister as though she'd just sprouted horns. "You were describing the 'networking' that goes on at these parties - is Zabini involved in that directly? As a facilitator?" Ginny hesitated again, and Hermione pressed on, very sure of her ground now. "May I assume that there's a back room or two at Zabini Manor, where deals get made and bargains get struck? Purebloods consolidating their influence and power? Call it what you like, Ginny, that's the reality of it!"
"Hermione, please understand…"
"And if Swivingham wasn't a guest, why was he there? Providing, oh, let's call it 'entertainment'?" Hermione's voice had turned scathing. "Since I doubt you'd call it by its right name…!"
Stung and ashamed, Ginny lowered her gaze to the floor. "The back rooms only," she mumbled. "I didn't know about it, Hermione, I swear. I kept seeing this bloke, but it wasn't until I read today's paper that I knew who he was, and what he'd been doing at the Manor."
There was another moment of silence. "Well," said Hermione at length, "I daresay it would embarrass Zabini if the public learned that he'd hired a Knockturn Alley crime boss to provide hookers and illegal drugs for his parties, but I don't see that as a threat on your life."
"No," agreed Ginny, "there's more," and she gulped her tea. "I, er, don't suppose you have anything stronger…?" At the looks she received from Hermione and Ron, she took another gulp, then set the cup down. Drawing a deep breath, she began, "We gave a Fire Party last Friday. There were some new guests, I'd never seen them before, and Blaise didn't introduce them to the general crowd as he usually does for newcomers. They seemed to be very important wizards, by the way Blaise was talking to them. They went straight to the back room. I followed - normally I host the main party, you see, so I stay there, and Blaise plays host to the back rooms - but this time I went back there, and I overheard Blaise talking."
"With these new, important guests?" Hermione prompted.
"Yes. Um, Swivingham wasn't there Friday, of course… he was behind bars. I heard Blaise saying something about how Swivingham was sure to be convicted now, because his elves were going to change their minds and agree to testify at his trial."
"How did he know that?" Hermione asked sharply. "This was Friday, you said? The elves had only told me on Friday - it couldn't have been more than a few hours before your party!"
"He figured the elves would testify, because of the rumor about… about Harry." Ginny fell silent, waiting.
If Ginny had been alone in Hermione's living room, Hermione might have accepted that Zabini had heard the rumor somewhere inside the Ministry. One look at Ron's red face and gaping mouth, however, and the truth flashed complete in Hermione's mind. "You told her, Ron?! After I trusted you to keep it to yourself, you told Ginny about Harry?"
"Hey, it wasn't like I was taking an advert in the Prophet!" Ron shouted. "I was only telling Ginny! She's family! And anyway, I think she has a right to know if someone's pretending to be Harry, don't you!?"
"Besides, he was three sheets to the wind," Ginny noted quickly. "It's not his fault, Hermione, don't blame him."
Hermione turned her fury on Ginny. "And then you turned right around and told Zabini…!"
"He didn't believe it, though," Ginny said. "He didn't believe there was an imposter… he, er, thought it was a ruse by you to trick the elves into testifying. He was actually pretty impressed."
"Am I supposed to be flattered? I asked that it be kept secret!" Hermione had no way of knowing whether Harry was listening, but she hoped he was, and that he understood what had happened. She wondered in passing whether he'd be angry enough to confront Ginny - and so confirm his existence.
In the meantime, she needed to bring the conversation back on track. "So Zabini was telling these guests that Swivingham was going to Azkaban?"
Ginny nodded. "And that… that he'd probably betray them."
Hermione jumped on this. "He used those words?" It seemed incredible - but if the Cartel Lords were responsible for Swivingham's murder, and Blaise Zabini had a hand in it…! The implications were staggering. She kept them to herself, however: she still had nothing concrete.
Ginny licked her lips nervously. "I, I think he said, 'He'll probably betray us now to save his skin.' And then it was, 'Don't worry, I'll take care of it. He'll set a good example.' Or close to that." Ginny twisted her fingers together. "And then I saw today's Prophet, and read all about Swivingham, and I knew he didn't kill himself - Blaise had him killed. I, I didn't want to believe it, but…!"
Ron spoke up. "Does Zabini know you overheard him?"
"I don't know. They nearly caught me - I had to knock and go into the room with them, and pretend I had a question for Blaise. You know, so I wouldn't look like I was eavesdropping. But if Blaise suspects anything…!"
"He might not have you killed," said Hermione calmly. "He might simply have you Obliviated." She didn't explain that this seemed to be the Cartel Lords' preferred method of dealing with problems: there were obviously advantages to keeping their existence unknown. Swivingham had evidently been a special case: either they couldn't find a skilled enough Obliviator who had access to his cell, or, as Ginny's tale suggested, they were making an example of him.
Hermione's words didn't seem to reassure Ginny. She drained the dregs of her cup and set it back on the tray with a thump. "Hermione, what can we do?"
"We can keep calm." Hermione fell silent, considering. There was, she judged, a real risk to Ginny's life: Even if Ginny knew no more than she'd just told, the fact that she was Hermione's sister-in law might lead Zabini to assume the worst. Moreover, Hermione was quite sure that Ginny did know more than she was telling, even if she didn't realize it. If she'd been present at most of these Fire Parties, she might well have seen chance encounters, heard bits of conversation, which when added together might be damaging to Zabini. And such scattered memories would be nearly impossible to Obliviate without detection… while killing was so easy.
"Tonight, you'll spend the night here," she finally said, hoping Harry was listening. "As I told Ron, my house defenses have been augmented recently… you'll be safe here. Tomorrow, I'll bring in one of the Department's evidentiary Pensieves. I'd like to see for myself the conversation between Zabini and his guests… to determine how dangerous it would be for him, and thus for you."
"And if Hermione doesn't think it's dangerous," said Ron, "then you should probably go to Quidditch practice this week, as usual. If Zabini isn't suspicious, you don't want to make him suspicious, right? Act normally - but you might want to beg off the next Fire Party, say you're sick or something. The less direct contact with him, the better."
"Yes, Ron, I'm sure you'd love that," said Ginny, with her usual tartness when dealing with her brother. She became somber again as she said to Hermione, "And… and if you look at my memory, and you decide it is dangerous?"
"Magical Law Enforcement has some safe houses tucked away, here and there," Hermione assured her. "There'll be no trouble putting you up in one…"
"No! If it's through the Ministry, then Blaise can know! He can find me!" Ginny insisted. "He has…." She stopped.
"Spies everywhere?" guessed Hermione, then in a voice of comprehension, "Or should I say sympathizers? Ah, I see. No wonder you showed up inside an overnight bag. No telling who might be watching the Floo." She took a sip from her cup of tea - and nearly spewed it out in surprise, as she felt something press against her ear. The bud of Harry's Extendable Ear.
"Don't trust her too far," came Harry's voice. "She's not the threat to the Cartel Lords - you are. And if Zabini's working for them, and she's working for Zabini… she may have been sent here. By them. To get at you, when they couldn't."
It was a thought worthy of Mad-Eye Moody at his most paranoid. Hermione knew that Ginny could be mean-spirited and spiteful on occasion, but she'd always believed Ginny to be a basically decent person. Hermione had a hard time believing Ginny could be evil, or that she'd invent a story just to have the chance to strike at Hermione.
But then, she'd not have believed that Ginny would ever associate with Blaise Zabini, with his Pureblood beliefs - which Hermione felt sure he maintained, even if he kept them to himself for political reasons.
Constant vigilance.
"You can sleep in Rose's room, Ginny," she said at last. "I'll put additional wards in place, just to be sure." She heard Harry murmur, "I'm on it," as the bud withdrew from her ear, and knew he'd understood: additional wards on the room itself, in case it was Ginny who proved to be the danger.
"Zabini might not have any plans for your head," she concluded, "but we'll take no chances. Once I've reviewed the Pensieve, we'll know what to do next."
"Thank you, Hermione," said Ginny in relief, and she seemed genuinely grateful. "I'll try not to be a bother." She stood, slung the overnight bag over her shoulder, and headed for the door to Rose's bedroom.
"Yeah, thanks, Hermione," said Ron; but while he likewise seemed grateful, he made no move to rise. Instead, he leaned forward towards Hermione and lowered his voice. "Y'know, it might be best if I spent the night, too. Like you said, just to be sure. An extra person around can't hurt security, don't you agree?"
She just barely kept from rolling her eyes at his transparency. "Of course, Ron, if you think so," she told him sweetly. "You can sleep on the sofa."
He twisted his mouth in annoyance. "Not exactly what I had in mind."
"I know exactly what you had in mind, Ronald Weasley, and my answer's the same now as it was before," she said, her voice low but firm. "What part of No don't you comprehend?"
"The part that keeps a husband and wife out of their marriage bed!" he answered hotly, no longer bothering to keep his voice down. "God damn it, Hermione, this is beyond ridiculous! I know we've had our disagreements, but…"
"Disagreements? Ron, we were never compatible! It was a mistake for us to marry, and I can't have you around anymore! When I told you we were through, I meant it!"
"Well, maybe you should've thought of that before you insisted on using your parents' stupid wedding ceremony! Because you can say we're through all you like, but we're still stuck with each other! You can't have anyone else, and neither can I! What good are your brains if you can't figure out a way to fix this!"
"Why, of course, Ron! Since it's our own magic that enforces our vows, all we have to do to 'fix this', as you put it, is become Squibs! No magic, no problem! Is that what you want?!" They were both on their feet now, facing off in high-pitched confrontation.
"No, dammit, but we aren't Muggles either! If we'd done a regular wizarding ceremony, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"Right! Because I've noticed how much importance wizards attach to little things like fidelity! Small wonder Swivingham could find customers! I'm sure you're sorry you couldn't be one!" Hermione screamed.
"Oh, I doubt he felt any need," came Ginny's voice from the bedroom door, a silken voice, gleeful at the barbs it was about to deliver. "I mean, the new clerk at the Wheezes is more than willing to accommodate him. What's her name again, Ron - Felicia? Or is that pronounced Fellatia?"
Both Hermione and Ron stared at her aghast, speechless with rage and mortification. As usual, it was Hermione who found her voice first. "For someone whose life expectancy depends on my good will," she said in a dangerously quiet voice, "you don't know when to keep your mouth shut."
Smoothly, Ginny began to respond.
"Shut," emphasized Hermione. Ginny lost her smile and closed her mouth.
Hermione waited a moment, until she was certain her point had been made, then turned to Ron. "True or false?" she asked, in the same laser-quiet voice.
Ron's face was brilliant scarlet by now, but he responded as he characteristically did, with a frontal assault. "First of all, what the hell business is it of yours? You've made it clear you're never gonna do me again, so what do you care if someone else does? And second of all, since we can't cheat on each other, whatever I did with Felicia wasn't cheating, was it? We weren't having sex! So get off my back!"
She stood, frozen and silent, staring at this stranger in her living room, wondering what had happened to the man she'd thought she'd known well enough to marry. When Hermione spoke again, she was pleased that there was no tremor in her voice, and no hint of moisture in her eye.
"Very well, Ron. I'll get off your back." She stepped close to him and jabbed a finger in his face. "And you get out of my house. Now." She took a step back and added, with stony finality, "And forever."
Ron looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but in a rare display of prudence, remained quiet. He shot Ginny a venomous look that promised dire retribution, and Disapparated.
Hermione turned on Ginny. "Good night," she said in curt dismissal, and headed for her own bedroom. She found herself hoping that Harry put really solid wards on Ginny's room, sufficient to block anything from entering, like oxygen.
"Hermione, wait," said Ginny miserably. "I'm… I'm sorry. After all you're doing for me, that was way out of line. I had no business…"
"You've never lost an opportunity to humiliate Ron," Hermione interrupted. "Ever since we were in Hogwarts. I'm not the only one who rates an apology." She tried to leave the matter there, but indignation spilled forth. "And you're damn right, you had no business! Yes, Ron and I made our mistake when we were younger - I admit it, and we're paying for it. No one's sorrier than I am. But I don't really think you're in any position to rub our noses in it, Ginny!"
"No, I'm not. And I'm truly sorry."
Hermione's indignant anger couldn't be contained. It didn't occur to her, until later, that she was sounding forth to the person who had sparked the confrontation in the first place. "And how can he say that… that… isn't sex? How can he honestly maintain…!"
"I'm guessing," Ginny offered, "that if the magic of your vows let him do it, then it was all right under those vows."
"The intent was sexual gratification with another woman, Ginny. And magic is powered by intent, as much as by the specific words. It certainly violates the spirit of our vows."
"But if Ron's intent was to be bound only by the specific words?"
"Then… then that would mean… from the very beginning… he'd never considered our marriage to be…" Hermione broke off, then gave a short bark of bitter laughter. "Our marriage. Right. We don't have a marriage, do we? We have magically enforced wedding vows. Not a marriage."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ginny said again. But this time, the words carried entirely different weight.
"As am I, Ginny. As am I." Wearily, Hermione nodded goodnight and turned to her bedroom.
Ginny's voice followed her, a temptress. "Hermione, if there's no marriage to save… and if Ron's found a way to find some pleasure despite your bindings… why shouldn't you do the same? Is it so unthinkable?"
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "Yes, Ginny, yes it is. It is un…"
Harry, smiling as he prepared breakfast for her.
Harry, sitting all night by her bedside, for no other reason than to hold hands.
Harry, staring at her in cami and knickers, unable to take his eyes off her, bringing blushing warmth wherever his eyes touched her.
Harry, who wouldn't come back for the wizarding world, but who came back for her.
Harry, noble, stubborn, self-sacrificing, infuriating, irreplaceable, and decidedly more fanciable than ever.
"…thinkable," she sighed, and closed the door behind her.