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Chapter Text

It was only in the late hours of the evening when he allowed himself to think of her. He’d stand outside in the cold, ignoring the bitter wind biting his skin, and picture her face. He’d imagine her pout or her glare or how her eyes would crinkle as she smiled. When his body became almost too numb to move, he’d head back inside. There, he’d sit at his piano and play, her last words resonating through the notes:

I’ll come back for you.

But she never did.

All that remained of her was the fading scent of her perfume upon his pillow.

He was alone again.

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20 April 2008
Catacombs of Paris
Paris, France

They were coming for her.

The wards she had set in place earlier had been tripped, and her wand vibrated violently in alert. Ginny silenced it with a flick of her wrist while casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself. One could never be too cautious.

Camouflaged against a wall of bones, she peeked around the corner and waited. A few seconds later, three shadowy figures descended the spiral stone stairwell. The tallest of the three, broad-shouldered and lean, led the way. His steps were sure but cautious. He held his wand at eye level, the light from its tip illuminating his features: green eyes, a dimpled chin and aquiline nose, dark, wavy hair streaked with silver along the temples, and a thin white scar that cut diagonally across his right eyebrow.

Her former partner, Maxwell Higgins.

Ginny silently cursed her luck. 

Higgins was a greedy Curse-Breaker who had betrayed her almost two years ago at a dig in the Valley of the Kings. He had taken off with nearly half her treasure, trapped her in a cursed tomb and shadowed her missions ever since. She was beginning to regret not bringing her apprentice down here with her.

Tightening her grip on her wand, Ginny tried to listen for Higgins’s annoying aristocratic voice. It was hard to tell if any of the men were speaking because sounds didn’t carry well down here. There were no echoes in the haunted silence of the catacombs, only the distant gurgling of water from a hidden aqueduct nearby. It was enough to give her a semblance of noise cover; however, it worked both ways.

Ginny’s gaze went to the rusted gates that barred her entry to the crumbling tunnel across the way. Before the undergrounds of Paris were constructed into an elaborate ossuary, it had been a limestone mine. Long since abandoned, access to the tunnels was restricted; however, they were shaping up to be her only means of escape without directly confronting Higgins and his henchmen. Apparating wasn’t an option either, not in a physically restricted and magic-controlled space like this. As for Portkeys—well, she should have nicked one from Gringotts before she left.

She felt inside her pocket and touched the large gem, her well-earned spoils: the Tavernier Blue. After two hours of traversing through the twisting labyrinth of mortared stone and bones and another five hours breaking the curse of La Samaritaine, Ginny would be damned if she was going to give up the diamond so easily. It was her big score, something to write down in the history books. Ginny Weasley, the Curse-Breaker who found the genuine 115-carat Blue Diamond. It had a nice ring to it if you asked her. And no one, not even a two-faced rat like Higgins, would steal it from her.

Unfortunately, Ginny’s options were limited. It all came down to fight or flight. After quickly assessing where she was, where she could go and who she was up against, she chose flight, or strategic escape, to be precise. She would have to brave the hazardous tunnels of the mines.

Without any further thought, Ginny made a break for the gates. Her feet barely touched the floor as she ran. She was a blur of movement, immediately drawing Higgins’s attention and his wand. He fired a Reductor Spell at her head and missed, exploding a wall of carefully arranged tibia bones.

The other two wizards cursed in French, and Higgins held up a hand, signalling for their silence.

“Ginevra, darlin’, there’s no need to hide.” He took a careful step forwards and raised his wand. “Come out and have a chat with your dear old friend Max. I’m sure we could reach some sort of arrangement for the diamond.”

Ginny ignored his baiting. Instead, she focused on non-verbally unlocking the gates. They made a rusted creaking noise as they swung open like an old screen door hinges in desperate need of oiling. At the sound, Higgins blindly lobbed another Reductor Spell her way, this time hitting the wall just above her head. Bones and dirt came hailing down, dusting her hair and tickling her nose, threatening a sneeze that might give away her location.

“My dear, I could do this all night,” he sing-songed. “Don’t be foolish, Ginevra. You’ve no place to go. You’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

Certainly not outwitted, she thought smugly before making a mad dash down the tunnel.

Higgins and his men took off in pursuit.

Ginny broke out into a sprint. She ran even as her muscles seized and her lungs burned. She found a morbid pleasure in the chase. It was thrilling. Maybe it was where she was, deep in the catacombs of Paris, but she couldn’t help but feel history coming alive beneath her feet.

It was said that King Charlemagne’s treasury was once kept here, protected by curses as powerful as those that guarded the tombs of the Pharaohs. She could almost see it; the light from her wand danced over the ruins, casting a shimmering illusion of better times, a glowing restoration of its former glory: treasuries overflowing with gold and jewels, legions of statues carved by the finest artisans. But that was no more. Now, this place only held bones, darkness and death.

But still, it was exciting.

Squeezing her way through a broken wall, Ginny found herself in a stone-paved tunnel that she was almost positive led topside to Place Denfert-Rochereau. All she needed to do was avoid dead-ends, collapsing tunnels and vertical shafts on the way there.

No problem.

She stood perfectly still and held her breath, listening intently to the men’s approaching footfalls. Beams of light from their wands crisscrossed along the ground, creating elongated shadows on the walls. They were so close that she could hear them panting. When she tried to move forwards again, there was a loud crunch, and she immediately stopped.

Shit!

Hand over her mouth, Ginny dampened her wand and waited. Higgins and his men had stopped, too. They were whispering.

Ginny looked down at the ground to see what she had stepped on. What little light came from her wand showed that her heel had overturned one of the smooth stones. She stared intently at it, and its empty eye sockets stared back.

It was a skull.

She glanced up at the pathway ahead with all its smooth, pale stones that looked exactly alike and shifted her feet hastily. She couldn’t move without walking on the skulls and stand still without standing on them. Either way, she was going to make a noise.

She could hear the wizards drawing closer to her hiding spot and she snuffed out the light on her wand altogether. What was she to do now? She could hope that they’d pass by or give up, but those scenarios seemed unlikely. She could use a Levitation Charm to pass over the skulls, but the ceilings were so low that even someone of her short stature had to crouch. If Higgins were to find her here, she’d be trapped like a lioness in a cage.

Just then, light from several wands pooled through a large crack in the wall. Higgins’s smug face peered through the opening. “She’s in here!”

Having run out of options, Ginny was about to turn around and meet her adversaries head-on when she heard hollow whistling from below. She cocked her head to the side and listened carefully, tuning out the grunts of the three wizards trying to squeeze through the opening. The whistling stretched out like a moan, and she realised that air was escaping from a vent shaft nearby.

It was the sound of opportunity.

Relighting her wand, Ginny took off briskly, wincing as the skulls cracked beneath her feet. Luckily, she was graceful enough that she rarely stumbled, unlike Higgins and his men, who had to all but crawl on their hands and knees.

The tunnel eventually widened out, and the ceilings were higher. Ginny broke out into a full run. She could hear the wizards yelling behind her, drawing nearer. Suddenly, narrow bursts of stale air blasted her in the face and she knew she was close.

Extinguishing the light from her wand, Ginny silently cast Ascendio as she leapt, hovering over the narrow chasm. Once safely landed on the other side, she cast an Uprooting Spell and violently thrust her wand upwards. The floor of skulls lifted beneath the wizards’ feet, picking them up and throwing them forwards. Their screams echoed throughout the tunnel as they were unceremoniously tossed into the shaft.

Ginny lit her wand again and shone it down into the shaft. Luckily, the crevice was narrow enough to prevent the wizards from plummeting down to their deaths. Still, it was deep enough to trap them and, by the looks of it, break two of the men’s legs. She could hear their moans of pain from below and felt little sympathy.

On the other hand, Higgins fared a bit better than his companions, though just barely. Instead of rolling around on the ground in agony, he hung limply from the precipice’s edge.

“Weasley!”

His eyes were wide and panicked, and she almost felt bad for him. That feeling of charity, however, vanished when Higgins used what little strength he had left to aim a curse at her. She easily expelled his wand, watching as the thin piece of wood sailed past his shoulder and fell down the shaft.

“Don’t be foolish, Higgins.” A smug smirk slipped onto Ginny’s features. “I’m afraid you’re outmatched.”

“Weasley!” Higgins struggled to lift himself, his fingers slipping on the crumbling limestone. “Weasley, I demand you help me up!”

She said nothing; she just rolled her eyes at him and walked away.

“Weasley! You’re not going to leave me here!”

“I’ll send someone down to retrieve you shortly,” she quipped over her shoulder. “Do try to hang on. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Weasley!”

She ignored his cries for help and continued towards the exit. He shouted a few choice profanities at her back before the whistling wind cancelled out his calls.

Silence once more.

Ginny walked for at least ten minutes before feeling a damp chill, pimpling her skin in gooseflesh. She shivered slightly and drew her robes around her. She could hear the gentle pitter-patter of rain from above, or perhaps it was a storm drain runoff. Up ahead, she could see a small pool of light spilling onto the floor and she looked up, spying a narrow set of stairs.

She went up.

After several minutes of climbing, Ginny finally surfaced onto a ledge where she spotted an antiquated ladder leading up to what looked to be a manhole. She climbed again, pausing once to wipe away the droplets of rainwater that dripped onto her face. When she finally reached the end of the ladder, she used her wand to push the heavy storm-drain cover aside and entered what appeared to be a small crypt.

She took a quick pass through the chamber before locating a magical wall. She tapped it twice with her wand and materialised through. Staggering forwards, Ginny turned around and took a few steps back. She looked up. It was a statue: Le Lion de Belfort. She gave a tired laugh of relief and let her head fall back, breathing in the fresh air.

The moon above was full and bright, so bright that she had to look away. Running her fingers through her damp hair, Ginny wiped a wrist across her sweaty forehead and grimaced at the smear of dirt she felt she had left behind. She was filthy and in desperate need of a bath. Luckily, the few Muggles milling about the square were oblivious to her dishevelled state.

Dropping her hand, Ginny used a quick Cleansing Charm and transfigured her robes into a Muggle-like jacket before lifting the Disillusionment Charm off herself. She scanned the streets for her apprentice, but the former Slytherin was nowhere to be found. She had been tasked with keeping an eye out for trouble, but Ginny wondered if Higgins had got the drop on her first.

Eventually, her keen eyes caught movement near a building on the corner. She spotted a tall brunette with a long, swishing ponytail. She could have easily passed for a Muggle if not for the fact that she was currently casting an Invisibility Spell on a pair of unconscious men.

Ginny sprinted over. “Tracey, hey!”

Tracey Davis turned towards the redhead with her wand at the ready when her hazel eyes widened in recognition. She immediately lowered her wand. “Merlin, Ginny! Are you all right?”

“I should be asking you the same question.”

Tracey had the decency to look contrite. “Sorry, I saw Higgins go down and was planning my valiant rescue effort when two of his men came back up the stairs and chased me down the square.” She motioned to the unconscious men. “Had a bit of a showdown, as it were.”

“I can see that,” drawled Ginny. “Good thing you won.” She placed her hands on her hips and heaved a long-suffering sigh at the two wizards. “I suppose we ought to leave them a note about their mates trapped in one of the shafts. They’ll need their own rescue shortly.”

Tracey pulled a face. “Do they really need to be rescued? They did come to filch us, after all. I vote we leave them to rot.”

Ginny tried not to smile as she conjured a piece of parchment and began writing with her wand. “I’ll take your vote into consideration for the next time.”

“There’s that annoying Gryffindor nobility of yours again.” Tracey folded her arms crossly and watched Ginny set the note on one of the wizard’s laps.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course you would.” Tracey dropped her arms and began to smile conspiratorially. “So, did you get the diamond?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow in incredulity. “Did you really have any doubts?”

She fished the blue diamond from her pocket and tossed it to Tracey. The older witch caught it, looking over the flawless gem with awe before wiping the look of admiration off her face.

“Not really,” said Tracey with a shrug. “I’m just always worried that one day you’ll sacrifice the treasure in order to save some poor sod’s life.”

“Slytherins—such humanitarians.”

“We try.” Tracey held the diamond up to the moonlight and examined it. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” She sighed almost wistfully before tossing it back to Ginny. “Let’s get this back to London before my devious Slytherin traits tempt me to knock you over the head and fence this natural work of art for a kingly sum.”

“Like you could land a blow,” Ginny scoffed, flipping the diamond in her palm. “However, if Gringotts tries to renege on the agreed twenty percent, I’ll be fencing this pretty rock myself.”

Tracey laughed, and Ginny examined the diamond one last time before slipping it into her pocket.

“Now as you say, let’s go home.”

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Several hours later, Ginny was back in London and parting ways with Tracey. The two delivered the Tavernier Blue to Gringotts and received a substantial commission in return. With nothing else to do for the next few days, Ginny went to her rented room above the Leaky Cauldron, intent on sleeping until hunger pains or the call of nature forced her awake.

She had only just passed out, fully clothed with her face buried in a pillow, when there were a series of gentle knocks on her door. She ignored them at first, hoping the knocking was her mind playing tricks on her or that the knocker would eventually go away. However, when the noise only persisted, Ginny quickly realised she wouldn’t get her wish.

Groaning into the pillow, she rolled onto her back and mumbled, “Who is it?”

“It’s your brother.”

She immediately sat up, scrubbing her face in alert. “Which one?”

“Your favourite.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “Charlie?”

There was a pause and then, “Second favourite, then.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Ginny slipped off the bed and padded to the door. She withdrew her wand from her robes and undid one ward while enforcing another. She was still a Curse-Breaker, after all. There was no way she would let her guard down, even if the person on the other side of the door sounded a lot like her brother.

Just in case, she cast a quick Shield Charm on herself and opened the door wide to reveal her eldest brother, Bill. He was standing at the edge of the threshold, his hands in his pockets and looking the same as he did when she’d last seen him three weeks ago: his hair too long, his body too thin and his wardrobe befitting of someone who had just got back from a Shrieking Wyvern’s concert.

Merlin, when did she start thinking like her mother?

“Hullo, baby sis,” he said in that cool, easy-going way of his that was one-hundred percent Bill and entirely enviable.

“Hullo, second favourite brother,” greeted Ginny. “How’s Fleur and the little ones?”

“Healthy, happy and safe.” He smiled.

“Good.” After a moment’s pause, Ginny returned his smile and twirled her wand in the air. “All right, time to get down to brass tacks. You know the drill, rock star.”

Bill hid his smirk and gave a curt nod in understanding before pulling his hands out of his pockets. Ginny followed his motions carefully as he retrieved his wand from its shoulder holster and held it to hers. Their wand-tips touched and glowed brightly, verifying each other’s identity.

Satisfied, Ginny lowered her wand and stepped aside, permitting her brother entrance into her humble abode. Bill holstered his wand and walked inside, his dragon-hide boots scrapping along the wooden floor.

“So what brings you here, Bill? Not that I mind the visit.” Ginny shut the door behind him and motioned to the chair beside her bed. “I picked up a lovely bottle of elf wine in Alsace. Care to have a glass?”

She went to her desk and began to rummage around in her travel tote for the bottle.

“No, thanks.” He waved his hand, his expression somewhat grave. “I’m afraid this isn’t a personal visit, Gin.”

“Of course it isn’t.” She sighed, pulling out the wine bottle and setting it on the desk. “What is it, then? Is Ragnok not satisfied with the diamond?”

“No, he’s incredibly impressed with you,” said Bill, as if he expected nothing less. He sat on the edge of her desk and gave her a guarded smile. “This is unrelated business.”

Ginny frowned. Bill was her handler, and a damn fine one at that. He was the one who set up her expeditions and negotiated her pay, but he usually gave her a few days’ grace between digs. It was a chance for her to catch up on some much-needed rest. To assign her a job so soon, only hours after returning, wasn’t typical. It usually meant Gringotts was short a Curse-Breaker.

“Another dig so soon?” She sat down on the bed. “Is someone sick?”

“No illnesses or casualties in the field that I know of.” He paused, absently tracing his fingers over the deep scars on his cheek. “But what I need you for isn’t a dig, Ginny.”

“Oh? What kind of job is it, then?”

“Private work.”

Ginny’s eyebrows all but disappeared into her hairline. “Private work? But my contract with Gringotts forbids moonlighting.”

“Yeah, well, they’re willing to lend you to a mutual client. That is, if you’re willing to accept the case.”

She eyed him carefully. “What exactly will I be doing?”

“I can’t say here for confidentiality reasons,” he said, looking around. “It’d be best if you heard it from the client himself.”

Ginny folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her brother was acting far too evasive for her liking. “Who’s this mysterious client of yours, Bill? Can you vouch for him? He won’t try to double-cross me, will he?”

A wounded look passed over Bill’s face and vanished just as quickly. “Hey, now, I wouldn’t have recommended the case to you if I thought he’d swindle you, Ginny. Remember, I was the one who didn’t want you working with Higgins.”

Ginny made a noncommittal sound at the back of her throat and shrugged.

“I can say that if you find what the client wants, he will be very appreciative.”

“Appreciative, huh?” Ginny’s curiosity was certainly piqued. Appreciative meant handsomely paid. She dropped her arms with a sigh. “All right, fine, but I can’t take the case without knowing what it entails.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, “which is why I’m going to take you to meet the client.”

“Take me where?”

“To Malfoy Manor.”

“Malfoy Manor?” Ginny’s eyes rounded wide like saucer plates. “Are you saying the client is—”

“Lucius Malfoy, yes.”

Ginny involuntarily shuddered. Even at twenty-six, she was still affected by that name. She hadn’t thought about him much since Hogwarts, but he had always remained a shadowy figure from her childhood. He was the wizard who had introduced her to Tom Riddle. He was the man who had helped rob her of her innocence and turned her world upside down.

“I know he’s not your favourite person,” said Bill, cutting through her thoughts.

Ginny bristled. Just because she didn’t like the wizard didn’t mean she was afraid of taking on his case. She was a bigger person than that.

“A client is a client, Bill,” she said sharply. “So when does he want to meet?”

“Now, actually.”

He removed an envelope from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to her. It felt light. She ripped it open and tipped it upside down onto her palm. Out dropped an iron-wrought key.

“What’s this?”

“A Portkey.”

She snorted at the irony of a Portkey being in the form of an actual key. “This isn’t going to drop me off a cliff or into a snake pit, will it?”

“It’d better not since I’ll be coming with you.” Bill snatched the key from her hand and held it up between them. “It’s activated with a password, so we can leave at anytime. You ready?”

She nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

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They arrived at the front gates of Malfoy Manor just as soon as the sun was peeking over the horizon. Pools of pale light spilt across the grounds and over the intricate iron latticework of the gates, transforming it into burnished gold.

It was a beautiful and haunting sight.

Bill handed the Portkey over to Ginny, who took it with a grimace. The key matched the iron-wrought gates and, for a moment, she was tempted to try it in the lock. Instead, she and Bill walked through the gates as if they were a black fog. They materialised to the other side, standing before a cobbled walkway lined with hedges. Up ahead was the grand mansion itself.

The two began to make their way up the walk when Ginny saw a flash of colour out of the corner of her eye. Something was strutting on the grounds: a peacock. She almost walked over to it when it suddenly bleated a two-beat caw that made her jump. She glanced up at Bill, who was silently laughing, and then down at her forearms pimpling in gooseflesh.

A little while later, they reached the monolithic oak doors of Malfoy Manor. They waited. Seconds ticked by, and Ginny was about to touch the silver serpent-shaped knocker when one of the doors creaked open. She expected to find a house-elf greeting her; instead, it was Lucius Malfoy himself.

She tried her best not to gawk at him, but it was almost impossible. Before Tom Riddle, Lucius was the bogeyman from her childhood nightmares. He hadn’t changed much physically, as far as she could tell. There were a few more deep lines around his eyes and mouth, and his hair was longer than she remembered it, more white than the golden blond it had been in his forties, but there was no mistaking who he was.

It had been years since she had last seen him, not since the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been quite the sight then: his hair dishevelled and his face bloodied, unapologetically clutching at his wife and son in the Great Hall. In the aftermath, he had managed to escape incarceration at Azkaban (again) and all but disappeared with his wife from the British wizarding community. Ginny had heard they lived somewhere in Germany or Romania, expanding the Malfoy empire into Eastern Europe and Asia.

“Miss Weasley, I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

Ginny blinked owlishly at him. For whatever odd reason, she hadn’t expected him to greet her so formally—at least not without scorn. Instead, he seemed somewhat relieved by her presence, grateful even. Or maybe she was just tired and simply imagining it all.

“Mr Malfoy,” she greeted, wondering if she should extend her hand. She didn’t, and he didn’t offer his.

“Please, come inside,” he said.

He turned, not waiting to see if she and Bill followed, and both eventually ventured inside. The door magically shut behind them, and Ginny’s shoulders tensed in anticipation for a moment before relaxing. She glanced about the expansive entrance hall, noting that the manor’s interior was even more visually stunning than the exterior. It was also decidedly less intimidating and less Gothic. Furthermore, the place seemed relatively empty. There wasn’t a house-elf in sight.

“You’ll have to excuse the lack of hospitality,” said Lucius, leading them into a drawing room. “I’m only briefly here on business.”

He gestured for the siblings to take a seat on a cream-coloured settee while he went to the bar and poured himself a drink. He offered his guests a glass, but both declined. After he had poured himself a drink, the Malfoy patriarch sat on a chaise in front of the fireplace. He glanced at the empty fire and swirled the amber liquor in the tumbler.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you here.” His dark gaze shifted and fixed heavily upon Ginny. “I need something found, and your services came highly recommended. I’ve been told that you’re the best at what you do, that you always find what you’re after.”

Ginny slowly crossed her legs and placed her hands atop her knees. “That would be an accurate assessment.”

“Ginny just recently returned from an expedition in the catacombs of Paris, where she brought back the authentic Tavernier Blue,” said Bill proudly.

Lucius’s gaze returned to the redhead and he subtly inclined his head. “Impressive.”

Although he sounded far from it. He seemed distracted.

Ginny cleared her throat. “So what is it that you need me to find for you, Mr Malfoy? Gold? Jewels? Perhaps some rare paintings?”

“No, I’m afraid I need you to find something far more valuable.” Lucius took a long sip of his drink and looked at her gravely. “Miss Weasley, I need you to find my son.”

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