♥ " The Memory Thieves 1/2" for vilgsacolin ♥

[fienabler]

Title: The Memory Thieves
Rating: PG13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: EWE
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta who did a wonderful job considering the fact I dumped this on her at last minute. Thanks to my flist - and to one person particularly who let me ramble at them. Thanks to the mods for being patient with me.
Summary: Ginny Weasley is a girl who knows how to get to the truth. When she is hired to recover a debt from the elusive Draco Malfoy, however, she soon discovers that some mysteries are far more complicated than she could ever have imagined.

The Memory Thieves 1/2

1

"I need you to do me a favour. I need you to get something for me."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, leaning further over the railing to peer down to where the metal and stone of the dockside disappeared. The water below was unashamedly brown and murky. It was laced with a number of suspicious looking objects. Even as she watched, some flotsam was pushed into view by the current, a Muggle plastic bottle floating in the middle of it. The first time that Ginny had smelled the water here, her first thought was that the aroma was distinctly unlike any that could be even remotely associated with the sea. Her companion had laughed. "We don't have deckchairs, either," he had pointed out.

"Well?"

"I don't do things like that anymore," she said finally.

The man stood beside her chuckled, stretching out his arms in front of him. "Oh, that's right. You're attempting to be on the straight and narrow now - all noble and reputable and such."

"I always was," Ginny said, unable to hide her irritation. For a brief moment she considered pushing away from the railing and Dispparating away. There were Muggles nearby, though, some of which were employed by the man that she was talking with. Eddie Carmichael, former Ravenclaw and Michael Corner's best friend, could be difficult-infuriating, even-but she had no intention of causing extra trouble for him. She owed him.

They had reconnected at a Hogwarts reunion, five years after Voldemort's defeat. Afterwards, he had thrown work her way, and had continued to do so. As an importer and exporter he had certainly been able to find enough rumours and potential stories to keep her fledgling career as a freelance journalist going. Then, when it had become apparent that she had a long way to go before having her name on an article would even mean it would be looked at let alone printed, he had found her other jobs, as well. If some of them had been less than strictly legal it did not matter - not entirely, at least. In return, she had occasionally used some of the information she gathered to help him. The relationship was an odd, symbiotic one. Ginny had reassured herself that at least she was bringing news of criminal dealings to the public's attention.

For old time's sake, Eddie said the first time. Legal is relative, he said.

"You like to bend the rules," he said, his tone matter of fact. "You like to see how far you can push. It's all that Weasley blood you've got running through you. This doesn't even do that."

She looked at him, taking the time to read his expression carefully. Eddie was handsome enough, in a rough sort of way, with blue-grey eyes and sandy coloured hair. He stood nearly a foot taller than she did, and until Ginny had realised that her wand work was much better than his for all the qualifications he'd gained, she had been more than a little wary of him.

"Let me guess, there aren't any rules to begin with?" she asked.

"Not officially." He turned around, putting his back to the water. "I wouldn't ask if I had another choice. Three other people I've hired to do this have failed, though. The man in questions is... slippery."

"You're not inspiring much confidence that I'll be able to do this."

He waved his hand dismissively. "You're different, Ginny. For a start, you have one significant advantage that the others didn't."

"Oh?"

His eyes swept down her appreciatively. "You're a woman - an attractive woman. He's a womaniser. It's a perfect fit. Besides, it's you, Ginny Weasley. I know he won't be able to resist at least talking to you - and that's markedly further than anyone else has got with him. Besides, I imagine that recovering this debt could prove to be quite enjoyable for you."

"Why would you say that?"

Eddie smiled knowingly, and said, "Because the man who owes me is Draco Malfoy."

-

There had been a saying, after Voldemort had been defeated, and the magical world had started to try and put itself back together again: not everyone can do a Draco Malfoy. It was muttered, usually over a drink, in a dark corner of a bar, and in a similarly dark tone. There had been more than a little resentment when the fate of the Malfoy line's only son had been revealed, and it did not involve even a day of incarceration. Somehow, when the rest of the world had been crumbling under the weight of what had happened, the Malfoys had performed yet another great escape.

True, Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, but Narcissa had spent only two years in custody before being released, and their son had even been held up as an example of an unfortunate soul who had been corrupted by Voldemort and his followers. By the time the Malfoys were finished, Draco's fate had been the fault of an unvigilant Ministry. He should have been protected, or so the papers had said. So, finally, the Ministry had agreed.

In Ginny's opinion, it was a somewhat dubious conclusion to draw. Admittedly, her fifth year at school was a bit of a blur, but she remembered the parts pertaining to Draco well enough. She remembered waking in the night afterwards, breathing hard because she was sure that the Death Eaters were in the school again. She remembered stumbling across him skulking in corridors, and all the times she had caught him staring at her.

No, Draco was far from blameless. Ginny was certain of it.

The Malfoy holdings had been seized on Lucius's arrest. The public had watched as each Knut had been counted by a reparations committee. The gargantuan fortune amassed by the family had been earmarked for a thousand scheduled tasks. It was meant to repair the damage that had been done. Draco's newly established status as a victim, however, had ensured that a small portion of it had been returned to him. Now he was living in a townhouse in one of the nicer wizarding areas of London, while his mother had taken up residence at a large summer house in the Channel Islands.

His status as the poor, misunderstood poster child of the Ministry's failure had only been emphasised by his personal appearance. Ginny had seen it, in newspaper articles and magazines. She had read and reread them, and lingered over the accompanying pictures. While he had grown up to be undeniably handsome, his appeal was not the steady, authoritative presence that his father had possessed. Lucius had been a tall, strongly built man. Even at his trial after Voldemort's death, garbed once again in prison uniform, it had been clear that he was a physically impressive man.

In contrast, Draco had grown tall and yet remained slender, almost whippet-thin. In pictures he always appeared to be slightly hollow eyed and pale. His cheekbones were sharp, his lips were full. He was never photographed smiling - or even smirking. He could have been sixteen again, struggling for control of his life. Ginny had long since decided that it was a carefully stage-managed look.

Every job started with research. It started with combing through the basics, looking for an angle that she could use - could exploit when she wrote her article. That had been the first thing that Ginny had learned. The second had been that she was unusually good at it for someone with a limited supply of patience.

Granted, the task that Eddie had set her could hardly be classed as her usual sort of work, but the principles were the same. To get Draco to pay the debt he owed, she needed to understand his habits. One small piece of information that she stumbled across might be the only thing she had to convince him that paying up was the best option. That had led to her kitchen table being covered with paperwork, in addition to her living room floor, and one wall.

"There's a word for this," George had said one visit.

Ginny looked over at her brother, slumped on her couch. There was a distinct look of amusement on his face as pushed aside a bulging file. "And what would that be?"

"Stalking."

"That's not exactly inaccurate," Ginny had admitted, thinking of the way that she had spent the early hours of that morning picking through the bins behind Draco's house. She could still smell the hair gunk she had accidentally plunged her hand into, despite the fact that she had washed it a dozen times over since.

It might be the next thing to stalking, but it was the best way to figure out how to actually get to see him. On that point George had not been able to offer an alternative. Her brother had proved to be a reliable source of inspiration when it came to how to go about investigating her stories, but even he had not been able to come up with anything that Ginny had not already thought of this time.

So far, for a man who was hardly inconspicuous, Draco had managed to avoid every attempt that she had made. The owl she had sent had disappeared for three days before returning still clutching her letter to him. Her attempts to visit him at home had inevitably ended with a house elf telling her that Mister Malfoy was not at home. The last time that Ginny had tried, she had jokingly told the elf who had answered the door that Draco needed to institute a signal to tell people when he was at home. He could have a standard flying, like the queen. When the receptionist at the office where he worked had heard her name, she had battened down the hatches and refused to say another word. Apparently she actually kept up with current affairs in addition to making the office a prettier place to work.

In the end, Ginny had reluctantly admitted to herself that Eddie may have had a point. She had to take advantage of her advantages. If that included relying on her looks to get the job done then so be it.

That decision had lead to her current position, making her way down a set of steep stairs into Mojo, the latest, greatest, most exclusive nightclub to gain the Malfoy seal of approval - or so her sources told her. Ginny had never been to the club before. She had not even been sure that she would be able to get in. In the end all it had taken was a daring neckline and a flutter of her eyelashes at the half-man, half-troll minding the door. Music poured in around her as she paused briefly in the doorway before beginning to look around.

When she found him, Draco was slouched discreetly in a booth positioned to the left of the dance floor, surrounded by a half-a-dozen others raised tables. It gave him a perfect view of the club. Ginny hovered to one side, sipping at the overpriced drink she had bought while contemplating her next move. The light was low, but she could see Draco clearly, his blond head bright in the gloom. On the table in front of him were a dozen empty glasses, and next to him sat a small, slender woman in a brilliant blue dress. Occasionally, he would lean over to say something to her.

Ginny frowned. She had not counted on finding him there with a date. That the woman was not being the most attentive of companions meant little. Except, possibly, that Draco was still as singularly charmless as the last time she had the misfortune of encountering him.

Ginny waited impatiently, half-hidden behind a surprisingly luxurious plant. Eventually, her patience was rewarded as Draco slid from the booth, levering himself into a standing position. She watched as he made his way toward the back of the club and then followed.

He vanished through a doorway buttressed by a pair of huge columns. The air was cooler here. It raised the fine hairs on Ginny's arms, leaving her shivering. She realised belatedly that whatever Draco was doing, it certainly did not involve getting another drink as she had assumed.

With a deep breath, Ginny steeled herself against the chill and followed, emerging through the door onto a long terrace. Behind her the sloping roof of the building rose up. She stopped abruptly, disorientated. When she had entered the club, it had undoubtedly been below street level. Now it appeared to be on the top floor. She looked around, distracted momentarily by the view of London at night before remembering why she was there to begin with.

Draco was standing to one side, his forearms resting on the top of the wall that ran around the edge of the terrace. In the darkness, a brief flare of red-gold light told her why he had stepped outside. They were alone, but for a trio of women seated at a table in the corner, talking and laughing.

His stance, unfortunately, gave her an inappropriately satisfying view of his backside.

"I won," he said as she approached, not bothering to look in her direction. "I bet Astoria you were watching me and I was right."

Ginny bit back her surprise. "What did you win?" she asked, coming to a halt next to him. She stood at a right angle, her side resting lightly against the wall so that she could observe his expression more easily.

A light grin played about his lips. The tip of his cigarette flared before he lowered his hand again. "Is that the sort of gently probing question you ask when you're interviewing someone?"

"This isn't an interview."

"That's not what the half-dozen or so people you've contacted about me seem to think. They can't all be wrong. My assistant, Sophia, took great pleasure in mentioning that you had called by. I had to listen to her regaling me with some of your greatest hits for the rest for the day. I'm not sure which my favourite was. The time you outed two members of the new Wizengamot as having been financial backing for the Death Eaters was a good one. Although, I did like the story about the Italian witch who gave up her fortune to a wizard after touching a charmed bank note. Compulsion charms are subtle little things to figure out."

He paused, smirking. "Unless you're trying to tell me that someone else is going around using Polyjuice again, that is." The last was side with a gently mocking, infinitely grating undertone. "That's what happened last time, isn't it? Didn't you get caught trying to get into a secure ward at St Mungo's while wearing someone else's skin?"

"That was a misunderstanding," Ginny said. "And I wasn't given the chance to explain."

"Lucky for you that your fiancé - sorry, he's your former fiancé - is so well placed in the Aurors. You might actually have ended up as an inpatient yourself if things had gone wrong."

"It is an advantage," Ginny agreed, delighting in the surprise that flashed through his eyes. Clearly he had not been expecting her to agree with him. He did not need to know that she would sooner have asked for his help rather than turn to Harry.

"Is Potter still in love with you?"

"You'd have to ask Harry."

"He is," Draco said decisively. His grey eyes slid back to look over the city. "He wouldn't compromise his precious morals if he wasn't."

"Harry has a girlfriend."

"Of course he does."

"You know, I didn't want to talk to you about Harry. In fact, he is decidedly unrelated to why I wanted to talk to you."

Draco raised an eyebrow, interested. His cigarette flared once more and then he discarded it with a flick of his fingers. Ginny knew to anyone standing below - wherever below might be - it would appear that a cigarette butt had appeared out of mid-air.

"Oh?" He let his eyes skim down her, leaving Ginny uncomfortably aware of just how low her dress was, and how well she filled it. "I'm flattered, really. It's obvious you've gone to some effort to look attractive, and I can't deny that whatever cosmetic charms you've layered on have made a noticeable improvement. However, I feel I must point out that attempting to seduce me probably won't make for a very good story - not unless you're writing for a very different type of publication nowadays."

Ginny snorted. "Aside from the fact that I'd sooner seduce a goblin, don't think for a moment that I'm the sort of girl to move in on someone else's date."

"So this is for a story then?"

Ginny shook her head. "Eddie Carmichael sent me."

The change in Draco's expression was dramatic. The confident, arrogant little smirk that had been playing around his lips slipped away. It was clear that he was fighting the urge to tense. "I think we're done talking. Run along now."

"He wants the money you owe him."

"Did I tell you I'm a close personal friend of this club's owner?" Draco added. "One word from me and you'll be on your backside in the gutter."

"I could say the same, although it might take me a few more words to do it. Exposes are generally a bit longer."

"I have nothing to hide."

"You don't, but your mother does."

Draco whirled on her. He took a sharp step towards her, until there was less than a hand's width between them. There was a lanky, quick grace to his movements that made the hairs on the back of Ginny's neck rise up in warning. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"I did a little digging," she said. "I think a few people would be interested to know how she was able to afford that summer house she's living in. The one on Jersey, out of the way, out of direct Ministry control. The Channel Islands have some very interesting laws when it comes to residents, don't they? Even magically inclined ones."

"I'm surprised at you, turning errand girl for Eddie Carmichael. Tell him that if he really wants to discuss our bet, he should come to see me in person."

Ginny blinked, and saw a triumphant smirk spread over Draco's mouth.

"You didn't realise he hadn't done that, did you?" he asked. "Maybe you should ask yourself why he's so determined to get someone else to do his dirty work for him. Then decide if it's really worth the trouble." He stepped away from her, in the direction of the door. "And Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever make threats like that again."

He disappeared through the door, leaving Ginny standing outside. She stared after him for a moment before following, meaning to catch up with him. It was clear that there was more to the matter than she had considered, and the fact that he had reacted in such a way when she had mentioned his mother spoke volumes. Eddie had told her that he was simply claiming a wager that Draco had lost to him in a gambling debt, but perhaps there was another story there.

A hand landed on her shoulder as she crossed the threshold, pulling her backwards. Ginny squirmed, trying to track Draco's blond head as he merged with the crowd. When the grip on her shoulder did not loosen, she spun to glare at the person holding her only to be confronted with a man mountain.

"I think should be heading home, miss. You've clearly had enough."

Ginny blinked up at him, stunned.

As she was escorted across the club, she did not notice a blue-eyed figure watching her carefully.

-

"Feel free to go back to stalking."

Ginny caught the magazine that was thrust at her, blinking sleepily as George seemed to melt into clarity. Only moments before, she had been fast asleep, dreaming away her Sunday morning after a late night poring over her research. There were answers there - she knew it. Whatever Draco had hinted at the night before, however, eluded her. She had ended up falling into bed in the early hours of the morning, her mind gritty and tired. She had already decided to blame any future headache on her blond adversary - not least because she had the sneaking suspicion he had actually managed to invade her dreams as well as her waking thoughts.

Then George had turned up at the door to her flat, and now she was sitting at her kitchen table, staring at a picture of what was undeniably her face, and Draco's, plastered over the front of one The Daily Prophet's Sunday supplements. In it, Draco was leaning on the edge of the wall, smoking while she talked to him.

"Page three," George supplied helpfully. "That's where the good stuff is."

Ginny flipped to the right page and cursed, several times, in a distinctly unladylike manner. This photo was much more incriminating. Draco was leaning over her, his head inclined towards her, and although Ginny knew that their conversation had been less than friendly the light had been bad enough that it could have been interpreted another way entirely.

"Sodding hell," she said, scanning the text. "Magic-laced banter my backside. More like verbal battery."

She angrily tossed the magazine on the table, only to immediately pick it up again so she could glare at the picture a little longer. The Draco in the photograph was leaning closer now, his mouth close to hers. For a moment, Ginny thought that she could even smell the smoke from the cigarette he had been smoking, and with that thought another memory stirred briefly before being swallowed. Instead, she was reminded of the intensity in his eyes. It was enough to make her shiver. Many things could be said about him, but no-one could ever claim that Draco was lacking in presence - albeit a brand of it unique to him. It was not too difficult to understand why he was rarely seen out alone.

"When did you start reading gossip rags, anyway?" she asked, making herself look away again.

George's expression suddenly became bashful. "I don't," he protested.

"But Angelina does?" Ginny guessed. She watched as George's ears became tinged pink. Their relationship, she knew, was still in its early stages. She also knew that she should not tease him. George had struggled to form attachments in the last few years, and this time he was finding it even more difficult. Still, it was pleasing to watch the little dance that he was performing with Angelina - had been performing ever since she had volunteered to help him out at the shop over the Christmas period a few weeks earlier.

"Shut up and drink your coffee," he said, pushing the cup towards her. "Better yet, drink your coffee and explain what happened."

Ginny wrinkled her nose, but did as she was told. As the caffeine began to seep through her body, she found it easier and easier to talk. Before she knew what had happened, she had related everything.

When she was done talking, George simply stared at her for several seconds. "He threatened you."

"No," Ginny said firmly, guessing what he would say next. "I can take care of myself."

"We've got a few new interesting ranges at the shop."

"George," she warned.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Fred accidentally came up with a potion to give someone bright green warts? You could probably convince Malfoy his todger was about to fall off."

"No," Ginny repeated, shaking her head.

She stood up, taking her coffee cup over to the sink. The view through the window was one of Muggle London. Ginny's small flat was buttressed up against the back of Diagon Alley. By some peculiar quirk of fate, and, Ginny suspected, some illegal expansion charms used by a previous occupant, it now stood half in the magical world and half in the Muggle one. She had often wondered what influence the residual magic would have on the local wildlife. At that moment, sitting on the windowsill was a fat, sharp-eyed pigeon that had taken up residence in the area a few weeks earlier. Most of the owls that arrived for her did their best to avoid it.

"Or there's a new forget-me-gone potion," George continued. "It comes with added hallucinations due to the fact I added some out of date deadlyius by accident. I could combine the two, actually. I wouldn't even charge you."

"I am not drugging Draco Malfoy."

"I could do it for you. Really, it'd be a pleasure."

"No, George. No." She thought of her living room and the stacks of papers that she had accumulated during her research. If the answer was not in them, then she would just have to look for another source. "I need him alive, and intact, and without any embarrassing bodily ailments - at least for the time being, anyway."

Movement in the corner of her field of vision made Ginny turn around quickly. The pigeon flew up in a burst of feathers, disappearing into the sky. A second later there was a knock on the door.

"Expecting someone else?" George asked.

"I was expecting to be asleep," Ginny answered. She crossed the room, an ominous feeling making her muscles tighten. When she opened the door, she was not entirely surprised to find a pair of Aurors standing on the other side.

"Ginevra Weasley?" the taller of the two asked. When Ginny nodded, he added, "My name is Edmond Miller and this is Maple Dunwoody. I was wondering whether it would be possible have a word with you."

Ginny folded her arms across her middle, drawing her dressing gown around her. "About what?"

"The disappearance of Draco Malfoy."

2

Ginny had always found being interviewed by Aurors to be a somewhat awkward experience. She suspected they felt much the same way.

On the three separate occasions it had happened thus far, both parties had yet to find a happy level of appropriateness. On one hand, the Aurors were aware that they were interviewing her as a potential witness or, occasionally, criminal trespasser. On the other, she was Ginny Weasley. Draco had not exaggerated when he had pointed out one of the advantages of having once dated Harry. It was more than that, though. Everyone knew she had been one of the students involved in the resistance at Hogwarts. Treating her like a suspect no doubt felt, well, criminal.

The fourth occasion was no less awkward than the previous times. Ginny invited the pair into her flat, fixed them both a drink, and tried not to let the excitement she was feeling bubble over as they explained their presence. Draco had disappeared. It was another twist in what was already becoming an intriguing story. She was less impressed when they informed her that she had been spotted arguing with him recently.

Luckily, for once, Ginny had the truth on her side. There was no need to elaborate, or hide what she had been doing. If she missed out small details - such as precisely what she had said to stir Draco's anger - it was only because she was certain that the Aurors would be able to find out that same information without her prodding. That was if they did not already know.

The Aurors left looking noticeably more relaxed, and with every intention of speaking to Eddie. Ginny had felt a flicker of guilt when she had given up his name, but there had been no way to avoid doing so that she could see. She had needed to explain why she had wanted to speak to Draco in the first place. They did, however, warn Ginny that they may need to speak to her again at a later date.

George, who had hovered in the background throughout the interview, merely gave himself a pat on the back. "Told you so," he said.

-

Around the time her second owl returned, the message it was carrying undelivered, Ginny came to the conclusion Eddie was avoiding her. Shortly after that she came to the decision what she needed to do was take a more direct course of action. She needed to talk to Eddie, even if he did not want to speak to her.

Why that might be the case was something of a mystery. After her adventures at Mojo, and her unexpected appearance on the cover of one of the magical world's more sensational weekly publications, Ginny had expected to hear from him before Sunday was finished. Surely, she reasoned, he would want to know how her conversation with Draco had gone. After her visit from the authorities, and their subsequent mission to interview him, she had expected to have Eddie attempting to batter her door down before the sun set.

When the day passed without any contact from her would-be employer, and Monday also failed to yield even a hastily written note, Ginny dragged on her coat and made her way to his office at the docks. There she suffered a sudden bout of déjà vu as the young, pretty witch ensconced behind the reception desk frowned, scowled, and then implied that if she did not leave she would quickly find herself on intimate terms with one of the dock workers hanging around outside.

Ginny left, confused. As she walked away from the building she glanced back up in the direction of the window belonging to Eddie's office. It was dark, the blinds closed. The sight of it made Ginny pause. Even if Eddie had did not want to see her, she had expected him to be at work. Her breath fogged in the early spring air.

Not to be defeated, Ginny found a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, and Disapparated away. Her destination was the home that Eddie had bought in the country when his import-export business had taken off. She breathed a sigh of relief when she appeared with the correct number of limbs still attached. Apparating was by far her least favourite way of travelling ever since she had once accidentally left her nose and eyebrows somewhere outside of Cambridge while working on a story. The fact that she was being chased by a group of former Death Eaters at the time had not helped.

From a distance, the Tudor pile complete with rose bushes and climbing ivy appeared just as empty as Eddie's office had been. Not to be discouraged, Ginny negotiated her way past a few less than friendly wards to peer through a window or two just to check. Soon it was clear that her initial impression had been correct. There was no sign of Eddie in the kitchen, or in the sitting room. As Ginny peered through the low window into his study she felt her confusion deepen. She was certain that she would have heard if the Aurors had decided to arrest him, but made a mental note to check whether they had when she was back in London.

She made herself Apparate back to her flat, frustrated.

Immediately, she let out a startled gasp as she surveyed her living room. It was a mess. Her couch had been pushed out of position. The drawers had been pulled from her desk. It even looked as if the intruder had gone so far as to pull down the curtains as they searched. They hung at an odd angle, now, longer at one side than at the other.

Ginny stared in disbelief. Someone had torn her sitting room apart looking for something. Not a single piece of paper had been left unturned.

-

"I need to find Draco," Ginny mused, shuffling her feet and settling into a more comfortable position. She was perched on the high stool behind Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' till, a cup of coffee in front of her. George was pottering around in the backroom, just through the beaded curtain. Angelina was organising a display of something suitably mischievous looking at the other side of the counter. There was something strangely domestic about the arrangement that made Ginny want to smile, though she held the impulse in check.

It was Wednesday lunchtime, and after another fruitless morning she had retreated to her brother's shop to escape the pressing reminder of her failure that was her flat. Her story, she knew, was floundering. If she did not make a breakthrough soon there was a very good chance that one of the reporters on the payroll at either The Daily Prophet or The Quibbler would get the scoop before her.

Her one advantage was that she had a head start on them. Someone might have ransacked her flat, but as far as she had been able to tell they had not taken anything. Ginny had tripled the wards that she had standing guard on the place - even going so far as to ask Bill to come by to check them. It had taken all her persuasive powers to convince him not to tell anyone else precisely why she had added the extra security. If he had, she fully expected that she would have had visits from every other member of her family.

"No you don't," George shouted through from the back.

Angelina looked up and rolled her eyes, drawing a smile from Ginny. "What do you think has happened to him?" she asked, ignoring her boyfriend as he shouted again from the back.

"Don't encourage her!" he said. "Let's all try to remember that having no Malfoy hanging around is actually a good thing."

"From the way that the Aurors were talking, it looked as if someone had either left in a hurry, or that there had been a bit of a struggle. I did a little asking around, and apparently some things in the bedroom and his library had been upset. A lamp smashed, a chair turned over... that sort of thing. They're working on the theory that some of his old associates called by."

"But what do you think?" Angelina repeated, a knowing look flashing through her eyes.

Ginny leaned back, the chair creaking slightly as she did so. "I think... I think that he's run. I think that I must have said something to him that made him think that getting out of London was his best possible option."

She stopped, and looked towards the front of the shop. Through window she could see that a light shower had just started to fall. Unbidden, Draco's face appeared in her mind. She remembered the way that he had looked when they had talked outside the club. There had been panic there, she thought, though it had only lasted for a heartbeat.

She wrinkled her nose and dragged her eyes away. Reaching out she picked up a small atlas globe from a basket on the counter, by the till. It was charmed to bring up facts about the various countries when they were touched. Most of the facts would certainly not have been part of the Hogwarts curriculum.

"He must have gone home, gotten whatever he had hidden and scarpered. He could be anywhere. People like him have connections, and arrangements. They have ways of moving from one country to another without anyone - especially the Ministry - knowing what they're doing. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a box full of unlicensed Portkeys somewhere. Maybe that's what he was digging out when he knocked over a vase, or broke a lamp, or did whatever it was that made the Aurors think there had been a scuffle."

Angelina reached over and plucked the globe out of her grasp. It warbled in her hands before she placed it down again in the basket. She smiled. "You sound like your brother." There was a protest from beyond the curtain. "I was going to say Ron!"

George poked his head through the curtain. "I don't believe you, but I forgive you. You have some fairly inexcusable qualities, as well, you know."

Angelina stuck her tongue out him.

Emerging from the back room while wiping his hands clean of a suspicious looking purple slime, George said, "Did Carmichael ever tell you what exactly he won?"

"Not exactly," Ginny admitted. "He said Draco would know what I was talking about, but didn't elaborate. Don't look at me like that. I assumed it would just be money. That's what people normally bet, isn't it?"

George shook his head. "My poor naive baby sister - you really have led a sheltered life, haven't you? They bet all sorts of things, particularly at the sort of gambling dens that Malfoy and your friend frequent. It's probably better that you don't know the details, actually. I wouldn't want to corrupt your innocence."

"I think whatever you've been making back there has seriously affected your judgement, so I'm going to forget you just said that," Ginny said dryly.

"It's a thought, though, isn't it?" Angelina said. "If it wasn't money then there's a good chance that he's taken whatever it was with him, or that he's gone off to check on it. Maybe you should start by finding out what the bet was for."

"I've tried," Ginny said. "No one wants to speak to me."

George reached over and grabbed the sandwich Ginny had bought him. "They probably think their names are going to end up in print. It would be enough to make most men with overly well endowed bank accounts keep quiet. I know I'd be reluctant to talk to a nosy reporter."

"Maybe you should speak to the woman who was with him," Angelina suggested. "If you can't speak to Draco, she might be your best bet. She might even know where he's gone."

Ginny smiled at her. "That is the best suggestion I've heard of all day."

-

The surprise in Astoria Greengrasses eyes when she first spotted Ginny walking across the office workshop floor was impossible to hide.

Ginny fixed a smile on her face, only half concentrating on the man who was guiding her. He had been wary about giving her access to the workshop to begin with. It was well known that staff of The McConway Company had been tasked with reconstructing several well known landmarks and buildings in the wake of Voldemort's downfall. Much of the work was secretive. Astoria had been working there as an intern for the last six months - or so Ginny had been informed.

Stepping out from behind the large blue-print strew desk she was working at, Astoria unconsciously brushed down the lines of her skirt. It was a rich, dark navy blue and matched the light blouse she was wearing perfectly. Ginny was surprised to see that even she was taller than Astoria. The other woman was beautiful, in a reserved way. The resemblance she had to her sister was marked in the line of her jaw, and the set of her eyes. Of course, if what Ginny had heard was true, the Daphne Greengrass she remembered from Hogwarts was a distant memory. The elder Greengrass sister was currently residing in St Mungos, and had been for some time.

"Astoria, Miss Weasley is here to interview you for an article she's writing."

Ginny nodded as Astoria looked at her once again, still smiling. "It's on the bright young talents coming out of Britain at the moment," she said cheerily.

"It will be good for the firm," the man said, eyeing Ginny briefly, as if to confirm that was indeed the case. "You can use the conference room, or stay out here if you wish..."

"The conference room would be great," Ginny said quickly.

They were barely though the door before Astoria drew her wand. Ginny ended up with her back pressed against the door, her hands held out in front of her. It did not escape her notice that the other woman's hand was shaking gently.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I just came to talk to you about Draco."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie. You argued with him. When he came back he was upset. He said you'd threatened his mother. He called you a..." She broke off, flushing slightly. Ginny allowed her imagination to fill in the blank. It was not too difficult to do. Draco no doubt had developed a wide range of insults in the years since he had left Hogwarts.

"I swear I don't know where he is," she said. "I'm trying to figure out where he could have gone, just like you. I actually thought that you might know. That's why I'm here."

Astoria frowned. "But... his mother - what you said..."

Ginny hesitated before replying. It was clear that Astoria clearly did not believe what she had discovered about Narcissa. She decided it was probable that she bought the Ministry line about Draco as well.

"I was fishing," she lied. "I wanted to get him to react."

"You shouldn't have done that. His mother is very important to him. Really, I don't understand why you all have to keep pressing him like this. Everyone else has moved on, haven't they?"

Ginny felt her heart tighten uncomfortably, but she did not look away.

Finally, Astoria shut her eyes, lowered her wand and sighed. The fight had gone out of her.

"I don't know where he is," she said. "All I know is that he was upset, and when I called the next morning he wasn't there. Narcissa must be terrified. They're so close."

Biting back a frustrated sigh, Ginny said, "What do you know about the bet he lost to Eddie Carmichael?" When Astoria did not respond immediately, she added, "I think it's all connected. That's what Eddie sent me to talk to Draco about, and it's a pretty big coincidence if he disappeared and the two aren't related."

Astoria's eyes widened. She started to shake her head, but then stopped. "He wouldn't talk to me about something like that."

Disappointment sank through Ginny. Whatever answers she had hoped to gain from Astoria were not to be found. No progress had been made. Not for the first time, she felt a spark of anger directed towards Eddie. Draco's disappearing trick could be explained, but Eddie avoiding her was confusing. The distinct, unsettling feeling of being used began to filter through her.

"Ginny," Astoria said impulsively as the redhead was leaving. "There was something - at his house, I mean."

Ginny looked at her. "What?"

"When I was looking around, before the Aurors arrived, I found a scrap of paper. Your name was on it. That's why I thought that you might know what had happened to him."

Ginny frowned. No wonder the Aurors had been so keen to speak to her. The question, of course, was why Draco had written her name down in the first place.

A thought came to her. Stepping back into the room, she said, "Did you touch it?"

Astoria flushed. "Well, yes. I know you're not supposed to, but I wanted to see whether he had written anything on the other side. You must admit that finding that, there, was fairly strange."

As Astoria talked, Ginny stared at her eyes. They were a dark green colour, the outer ring slightly lighter than the inner. Fringed by dark flashes only lightly touched by cosmetic charms, they were remarkably pretty. Even now there was something soft and welcoming in them.

That was not what interested Ginny, however. No, what had caught her attention was the faint violet shimmer than went through them at regular intervals. She could not believe that she had not noticed it before. Astoria was under an impressively subtle compulsion charm, and Draco had been the one to place it on her.

The realisation nearly made her laugh. For whatever reason, Draco had wanted her to know where he had gone all along. He had left her a message he could be sure that no one else would understand.

3

Once she had figured out what Draco had done, and how he had done it, Ginny did not take long to figure out where he had gone. After arriving home from seeing Astoria, she delved into the piles of papers, all neatly stacked again. She tossed the files aside, ignoring the owl that was pecking impatiently on the windowsill outside until she came to the one that she was looking for. It was one of her favourites - one of her best pieces of ammunition. It was the file on Narcissa Malfoy.

Flipping through it, Ginny paused at a picture of a large, almost palatial house gleaming white on a bright, sunny day. The picture was from a distance, and had originally been used as part of a real estate advertisement. Ginny had acquired it after pretending to be an architecture student. She was lucky that her features were not quite so well known as those of her brother or his friends. The irony of her disguise considering where she had just been did not escape her.

Taking the picture from the file, Ginny smiled. Was there actually a chance that the Aurors had not thought to look for him there, at his mother's house? They must almost certainly have talked to Narcissa. So, unless she was very wrong, the woman was keeping her son's presence a secret.

Hastily, she made her way through to the bedroom. From under the bed she retrieved her backpack. It lived there, full of the things that she might need if she found out she had to go away for a few days on short notice. With one last look at the picture, she drew her wand and steeled her nerves. It was a long way - too long, really. If she had any sense, she would try to get a Portkey instead.

The next thing she knew, she was fighting the familiar post-Apparation nausea.

The first thing that struck her was that she was standing in an impossibly lush garden. She did not bother to hide her surprise. At this time of year the plants should have been stunted, if growing at all. The climate was similarly peculiar. It was much warmer than she had expected, and after a second she knew that she was going to have to at least loosen the coat that she was wearing. Only then did it occur to her that she was standing in the garden of the property, not next to it. Not for a second did she imagine that Narcissa Malfoy would have neglected to have wards installed. They had been awaiting her arrival.

Ginny set off along the path to her right, winding through the palm trees and plants laden with heavy bright flowers. There were some signs that spring was still young, but they were almost entirely overwhelmed.

The house was quiet as she reached it. Ginny stood on the patio, next to a pool that swept around the curve of the building, moat-like. She peered up at the building, looking for signs of life. Returning to the path, dipping in and out of the garden as need demanded, Ginny made her way around to the front of the building. She emerged through a small gate cut into a wall that seemed to divide the front of the property from the back and heard a crunch as her feet found gravel. She had just found the driveway when the sound of a curse made her stop.

On her left stood a garage fronted by a pair of large wooden doors. In front of them stood a large, elegant car like something out of one of the old movies that Hermione had made her watch. Its rolling curves were as different from the cars she was used to seeing on the streets of London as Ginny's childhood home to the building she was now stood in front of. The sunlight gleamed off a silver winged figure proudly displayed at the front.

Ginny approached slowly. It had taken only a moment for her to realise that the sound she had heard must have come from inside the garage. What she found as she peered around the door, into the gloom, made her stomach flip flop.

Grease stained Draco's hands. It stretched up toned forearms to where he had rolled his sleeves up. Even as Ginny watched, he pushed one up again leaving a dark trail behind. There was a look of complete concentration on his face as he turned something over in his hands, clearly frustrated with it.

Ginny leaned her shoulder against the door. "Draco Malfoy, handyman extraordinaire. Aren't you worried about your manicure?"

Without looking around at her, he said, "Muggles, and Muggle technology being as en vogue at the moment as they are, my mother has decided that she would like to learn how to drive."

"I thought she moved here so she could remain living in the Dark Ages. Wasn't the age of enlightenment getting a little too bright for her tastes?"

"Not exactly," Draco said, turning the part over in his hands again.

Ginny was strangely gratified to see that there was a small smile playing around his lips. She bit the feeling back, immediately. "That doesn't explain what you're doing."

"My mother has great faith in me." Jabbing a finger towards the car outside, he said, "She bought that thing from a Muggle without bothering to check whether it worked or not. I had to stop her from going and hexing the man to Antarctica when it broke down before she was halfway to the end of the driveway."

Ginny pushed away from the door. Walking over to Draco, she peered over his shoulder at the twisting turning motion of his hands. His fingers were long, dextrous, and even though it was clear that he had no idea what he was doing, the way they moved was strangely hypnotic. The impression, though, was marred by the presence of the faded Dark Mark on his forearm. Ginny stared at it. Even after Voldemort's death, it had not disappeared entirely. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not really. But if you did, and you said yes, I'd tell you to get a Muggle from the nearest garage to fix it. That's for your safety, your mother's, and every other driver out there."

Draco's hands stilled. "You may have a point," he said, after a moment.

Ginny gently reached around him, extracted the lump of metal from his hands and placed on the bench in front of them. "You broke into my flat," she said.

"I did. Those are some interesting wards you have on it, by the way." There was no apology. Truthfully, she had not expected one.

Ginny smirked before she could stop herself. "Tell me, did you trigger the ventus hex before or after the one for the cloudburst?"

"You realise that setting spells like that without warning signs and special permission from the Aurors is illegal, of course?"

"You realise that breaking into someone's home is illegal, don't you?" Ginny countered.

"If you'd contacted the Aurors, you would have had to explain the assorted wards, documents, and blueprints that I'm fairly sure you're not supposed to be in possession of."

"I am an investigative reporter, you know."

Draco's lips twitched. "So I've been told."

Ginny smiled despite herself. She covered the motion by lifting her glass to her lips. "That was a clever trick with Astoria. Risky, but clever. What would you have done if I hadn't figured it out?"

"I had great confidence that you would, although I had hoped that you would do so a little sooner."

"If you'd wanted me to come any sooner you should have just sent me an owl." To that, he had no reply. "Should we talk about why I'm here?"

He looked at her for the first time, his expression suddenly becoming serious. "I suppose that would be a good idea."

-

Draco led her through the house, past an impressive dining room and a luxurious sitting room. They passed a large conservatory that was, right at that moment, catching the last of the day's sunshine. Through the doorway Ginny glimpsed an impressive view stretching out of the gardens and surrounding countryside down to the sea. Even at this time of day, the water looked a deep, inviting blue. She could almost trick herself into believing that it would not be frigidly cold.

"This is what stands for our library nowadays. Though, of course, it's nothing compared to what we used to have at the manor. Most of the books from there were confiscated, however, when the Ministry took over the building," Draco said as they at last reached a set of double doors.

He paused, clutching one of the door handles. Meeting her eyes, he said, "Last chance to back out."

"If you've dragged me all this way for nothing, I'll be forced to hurt you," Ginny warned. The familiar feeling of excitement was there again. There were answers in the room beyond.

"I like that you haven't changed," he said. The way he leaned against the door could almost have been taken as a challenge. "You're still as violent as ever."

"Really, Draco, I don't need to know about your proclivities. Just hurry up and open the door, please. Oh, and feel free to explain why we're here in the first place while you're doing it."

Draco smirked. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, gesturing for her to follow. The moment that she had done he closed the door again quickly. Just for a moment, as he moved forwards, and she neglected to move at all, Ginny found herself pressed up against him. She breathed in sharply, catching the scent of cigarette smoke once again, light and almost pleasant, but definitely there beneath whatever freshening charm he had attempted.

He moved away without another word, not giving any indication that he had noticed her reaction. For that, Ginny was thankful. She had to will away the blood surging to her cheeks.

"Do you know what I wanted to be when I was younger?" he asked while crossing over to one of the book cases.

Ginny, who had been looking around with interest at the supposedly reduced Malfoy library abruptly dragged her eyes back to him. An explosion of answers immediately came to mind. At the fore, there was Death Eater, blood-sucking lawyer, corrupt politician, perpetual layabout, career criminal or, possibly, all of the above.

"I've no idea," she said diplomatically.

To her surprise, he did not answer immediately. Instead, he pressed the tips of his fingers to the spines of a number of different books, flitting over them with ease in a practised sequence. It was only when the bookshelf gave a groan and began to move that Ginny realised that what she had actually seen him doing was entering a code of some kind.

He looked at her, evidently pleased with her surprise. "I wanted to be a Curse Breaker. I've always been good at fixing things - magical things, at least. Curse breaking is just a step away from that, really, if you think about it."

"Not to mention that repairman isn't exactly a profession worthy of a Malfoy," Ginny added, trying to keep her expression neutral. She could think of one thing, at least, that he had fixed expertly. Most modern accounts of the events leading up to the final battle could scarcely fail to mention the incursion the previous year, and how it had been Draco's ingenious work that had allowed it to happen.

"That too," he admitted. "When I applied to various banks after the war, I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be entering their employ. Applying to the Ministry was out of the question, for obvious reasons, I think. So I amuse myself by creating little charms and such."

It took Ginny a second to realise that he was looking for her acknowledgement. After walking over to stand next to him, she examined the bookcase. Where it had swung open she could see that the wall was recessed to allow for a series of shelves to be fitted. Her eyes moved swiftly over the objects that were placed there - books, ledgers, small sacks of coin, and other things.

"It's impressive, with no training. I'm surprised you couldn't handle the wards at my flat," she said.

Draco's shoulders shifted. His expression pleased. "If I had known they were there, I could have."

Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. "I'm still not sure what we're doing here. This is all very nice, and if I was writing an article about it, which I presume I'm not since you're actually showing it to me, it would be very interesting as well."

"Well, Ginny, I thought you'd like to see what Carmichael wants from me."

Ginny eyes flew back to the shelves and the objects on them. Suddenly, the assortment before her had added meaning. Her eyes flew over them, touching on the documents, bonds, jewellery boxes and more. Ever since Ron, Harry, and Hermione had successfully broken into supposedly the most secure bank in Europe, people had taken to keeping valuables in their homes again. In this case, however, she supposed that the Malfoys had chosen to do so for another reason entirely.

"I didn't think he would have told you what it was," Draco said smugly. "It would seem, considering your expression just now, I was right. Try to contain your excitement. It's in the middle - the silver egg with the enamel detailing. Don't touch it."

Ginny shot him a glare, her hand frozen in mid-air.

"You do have an obedient side to you after all," he said, clearly amused. "I thought you Weasleys weren't capable taking direction."

With a cheeky glance, Ginny said, "Oh, there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and seemed willing to continue the thought until Ginny pointed at the egg. "What's so special about it? It looks like something you could pick up cheap in Hogsmeade."

"Well, you couldn't. Actually, you'd be more likely to find it in the Muggle world. It's a replica of a type of ornament that some company used to produce."

Meeting his eyes, Ginny said, "Are you really trying to tell me that Eddie went to all this trouble simply to get his hands on a fancy egg - on a fake, fancy egg? He might not have quite as much spare cash as you do, but I don't think he's that desperate."

"It's not the ornament he's interested in. It's what's inside it."

"And what's that exactly?"

Draco inclined his head towards her, as if to tell her a secret. "A memory."

( "The Memory Thieves" 2/2 )

Original Prompt:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Draco in gambling debt and Ginny sent to collect his debt.
The tone/mood of the fic: Drama/Romance
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: Draco won't pay up, and whether it's because he's broke or just doesn't think he needs to pay is up to you!
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: PG-13 to NC-17
Canon or AU? either is fine
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Ginny in love/longing for Harry.