Last update of this year, as between finals, working and the holidays, I won’t get a chance to update. But my notebook will be with me wherever I go, and I hope to get a good amount of writing done during the hectic season! Happy holidays to all!
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Chapter 9: Sins of the Father and All That...
“I never should have listened to you,” Draco snapped, as he paced around in circles, feeling like a caged animal. The darkened room felt oppressive and small, far too small for the amount of anger he was feeling.
“What other choice did you have? This was the only way, the only option you had at the time!” the victim of his anger shot back, his voice alluding to the fact that his patience had been pushed to the very edge of its limits.
“Look what’s happened to her! How could this have been the only way? Did you see her?” Draco shouted, stopping in his tracks.
“She’s alive, isn’t she? That means there’s still a chance for this to work. I know it’s difficult, but would you rather the alternative? I thought you were stronger than this, Draco. You told me that you were ready to do anything.”
“Sod off! How would you feel if you were in my position? Three damn months, I’ve been helpless to do anything, watching this nonsense happen while I watched from the bloody sidelines! You don’t seem to understand!” he yelled.
“There are forces out there harming what is yours. Of course I understand, boy. It’s a Malfoy thing, being possessive our ‘treasure’, and getting right upset when others infringe on our hoard,” his uncle Vincent sighed. Draco glared at him, and attempted to contain his emotions. All these months, unable to do anything, and she was now in the other room – so close yet so far away – and he was still helpless. The strange twist of fate that had brought them to this point had rendered him useless to her; a fear he’d always had about their relationship.
“It’s more than just infringing, look at the state she’s in!” Draco snarled, his control shattering.
“I realize you are upset, and after months of being alone, unable to share your… lovely and endearing... temperament with anyone, you’re more than ready to jump down anyone’s throat who crosses your path. But there are more important things to focus on. Like the fact that you should not be here when she’s finally awake. Check in on her, say your farewell, and then go do what you have to do. Otherwise, this will never end,” his uncle said, gesturing to the door behind him. Draco sighed heavily.
“I thought that this part of my life was over. Well, you know what they say, sins of the father and all that,” he said bitterly. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
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He sat down on the bed next to where she was lying, on her side, curled into the foetus position. It was hard to believe that she was alive, she was so still, and the dim lighting gave her skin an ethereal sheen that was haunting to see. But he watched carefully, and counted the seconds between breaths. He reached out to touch her face, to brush her hair away from her eyes, but pulled it back at the last second.
“I feel strangely compelled to talk to you, even though I know that you either can’t hear me, or you’re too drugged up to even understand what I’m saying. Speaking of which, I can’t say I’m not relieved that you were stoned when I dropped by tonight. I can only imagine the ‘greeting’ I would have received otherwise,” he said dryly.
He pictured in his mind what she would have done, would have said and how wonderful she looked when she was infuriated and sighed. There were times, when despite the overwhelming height and weight advantage he had over her, she’d still try to push him. She made him stumble once, by catching him off guard, a moment of triumph that she reminded him of as often as possible.
“We’re going to make this right. All you have to do is keep your neck out of trouble and remember. Of course, you could promise not to take my head off the next time we come face-to-face, as a courtesy because, after all, I will be taking care of the rest. It’s fairly good deal for you, Weasel, and you well know that I don’t feel this charitable very often so you’d better make sure that you keep your end of the deal,” he said. Leaning down, hovering above her, he resisted the urge to touch her, to feel her warm skin, to reassure himself that she was really there and safe. “It’s really important, Ginny. You have to remember. Everything else depends on that. Whatever happens, whatever you think you know, however they try to twist it, you have to remember.”
He stood up, his resolve to let her sleep beginning to crack. Inhale. One, two, three, four. Exhale. She was breathing, he could stop counting, she was alive, and for now, she was safe. That needed to be enough for now. He turned to walk away.
“You don’t know it yet, but we defied fate once already. I take that as a sign that we can do anything together. So hang in there, with me, and the impossible will become completely possible,” he said softly.
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“Going to have a chat with Ballan?” Vincent asked, as Draco reappeared in his study. His nephew looked ragged, worn around the edges. He’d aged considerably in such a short time, but Vincent supposed that was the price to pay for rebelling against an ancient curse.
“A civilised conversation is more of what I had in mind. Maybe he’ll give me a straight answer on something,” Draco groaned, his head in his hands as he sank into a soft armchair. He was exhausted; physically, mentally, emotionally.
“Are you planning on retrieving the sword from its cache?” Vincent asked.
“I’ve already got it, I didn’t want to take any chances,” Draco said. His uncle glared at him, shooting out of his seat. Draco straightened up, startled by this reaction.
“You brought it here? In the same spot as the two of you? That’s exactly the kind of catalyst that could destroy everything. Why, in the name of the gods, boy, would you tempt fate by laughing at her like that?” he cried out. Draco’s temper snapped.
“This isn’t fate, this is my life! And her life! And it’s been meddled with, but certainly not by fate!” Draco shot back.
“But to bring that sword into the same place where you both are, that’s inviting the curse to seek its fulfillment. You stopped it once and I don’t know that it would work again,” Vincent warned gruffly.
“It’s not getting what it wants. It’s not happening,” Draco said, his eyes blazing with defiance. His uncle just scoffed at him, knowing that his arrogance would undoubtedly be his downfall one day.
“Before you leave, did you do what I asked you to?” Vincent asked. Draco nodded solemnly, reaching into his pocket and extracting a number of vials filled with silvery liquid, and placing them on the end table.
“They’re all there.”
“Excellent. Now, get out of here,” Vincent said, with an affectionate smile for his nephew.
“I hope you know what you’re going to tell her when she wakes, because she’s going to have a lot of questions, and you know how good she is at getting answers from people who aren’t very forthcoming under normal circumstances,” Draco said warningly.
“I’ve got it figured out, don’t you worry about her,” Vincent said. After a moment, he reached out and grasped his shoulder. “She’ll be safe here, I promise.”
“Good. And if she’s not, I’ll kill you,” Draco said, casually enough, but with enough cold rage behind it to make it a lasting threat. “When she wakes up, you should take her out to the clearing to see the unicorns. She’ll appreciate that.”
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“Ooh, Morgan, it looks like she’s waking up!” a voice crowed in the dark, the sound reverberating throughout Ginny’s head painfully. As her eyes drifted open, she began blinking furiously against the brightness that filled her sight, throwing her hands up in front of her face to ward against it.
“Be quiet, Faye, she probably has a raging headache and doesn’t need the shrill sounds of your voice to add to her pain, the poor dear,” another voice chimed in, this one speaking in much softer tones. Ginny carefully peeked around her hands, trying to figure out whom these voices belonged to, where she was and what she was doing there. The last thing she could remember was Darien leaving her flat in a huff. Oh… Darien…I forgot about that whole disaster, Ginny thought, noting to herself that she’d be lucky if he ever spoke to her again. Malfoys are not very forgiving when their egos have been wounded.
“I should probably run and fetch Vincent, she’s not going to know where she is, or who we are. Better have a familiar face around, I think,” the first one spoke. Ginny’s vision cleared significantly, and she was shocked to see that she was in a well-lit bedroom, and there were two elderly women hovering over her, peering down at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She blinked, confused, as the two women were looking back at her with exactly the same face. In fact, the only difference between the two of them that Ginny could discern were that they were wearing different coloured robes. The one on her right was dressed in blue, the other in green.
“She’s a clever girl, I’m sure she’ll figure out where she is. She has been here before, after all,” the one in blue said. At her words, Ginny’s eyes darted around the room. Indeed, it was rather familiar. It was the bedroom she’d used during her first trip to the Malfoy family home in Bulgaria. She was in Bulgaria? How did she get there?
“Morgan, just run and fetch him. Now, easy love, you’re head’s going to start to spin as you try to sit up,” the soft-voiced one spoke, speaking directly to Ginny as she made a move to sit up.
“I think my head’s already spinning,” Ginny muttered, bracing herself against the bedspread as her vision did spin a little as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “I was in England before I fell asleep, and now I’m in Bulgaria. That’s quite a spin.”
“Ah, you do know where you are! Excellent!” the one heading out the door declared shrilly. Ginny winced against the noise.
“How’s your head, dear? I bet it’s pounding. I’d give you a potion to clear that up, but I’m afraid it might interact with what you’ve already been taking, so you will just have to grunt through, I’m afraid,” she said kindly. Ginny stared at her blankly and didn’t say anything.
“Virginia! You’re awake! That’s excellent, we were beginning to wonder about you!” the rich voice of Draco’s uncle boomed as he entered the room. Ginny turned her head to stare at him, unsure at the strange mix of emotions that swelled when she laid eyes on him. An overwhelming wave of comfort and safety mingled with bitterness and betrayal. “It’s been quite awhile, my dear! I was wondering when we’d hear from you again.”
“Quite awhile, yes. Over three months, actually. A rather lot has happened since then,” Ginny said, her tone harsh. “For example, your nephew tried to kill me and you’ve refused to accept the post I’ve been sending you ever since.”
“I’m sorry about that, my dear, but I’m sure, after all your time with Draco, that you know that –”
“-That nothing is as it seems. I’ve heard it all before, and frankly, my patience with Malfoys and their cryptic answers, scheming and secrecy has worn rather thin. So, sod off with it. Just say you’d rather not tell me, instead of dancing around the issue. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a politician. I’m better at it than you are,” she interrupted, glaring at him defiantly. The elderly man, a more distinguished version of Darien, stared at her in surprise, and she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks in anger as she observed a sparkle of humour in his eyes.
“Of course, Virginia. We have missed you around here, you know,” he said with a smile, and Ginny felt her anger die away, as her great affection for Vincent slowly began to return. He was all warmth and intellectual discussions, and simply being around him brought back the feeling of family and fondness that had developed over her time with his nephew. As her anger was calmed a bit, she realized that she hadn’t asked the obvious question, and felt rather discomfited.
“Right. So now that I’ve been a right stroppy brat, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me how I got here?” she asked, somewhat sheepishly. He laughed, a full hearty sound that brought on a wave of nostalgia that she had to fight.
“That’s quite a mystery, my dear. We’ve been wondering the same thing ourselves. Elizabeth found you, collapsed in the study, completely covered in soot. We figured that you just Flooed over, and we were quite concerned, what with the bump on your head and the fact that we couldn’t wake you at all. Luckily, our guests here are well-known MediWizards and were able to help you out immediately. Ginny Weasley, this is Morgan and Faye Modron,” he said, gesturing to the two elderly ladies who were now both poking and prodding Ginny with inquisitive looks on their faces. She drew away from their prodding carefully, gasping slightly as her head spun a bit.
“I don’t know why I would come here. The last thing I remember…” she trailed off. The last thing I remember is your son storming out of my apartment after I rejected him, she thought, a hot, unsettled feeling washing over her as she remembered the look in Darien’s eyes. “I don’t remember how or why I would come here.”
“Well, dear, we have a bit of a theory on that matter,” the shrill-voiced sister, Morgan, spoke up. She held up a small vial for Ginny’s scrutiny. “You’ve been taking this potion regularly?”
“Not regularly, just when I’ve needed it. A little more, lately, it seems, but not on an everyday basis,” Ginny explained, recognizing the bottle as the one from her bathroom. Morgan exchanged a pointed look with her sister.
“Have you been going a bit batty over the past couple weeks?” the soft-spoken MediWizard, Faye, asked her, peering at Ginny, much to close to her face for Ginny’s comfort.
“Pardon me?” she asked, slightly affronted by that question. It was one thing to think yourself mad, but quite another for a perfect stranger to broach the subject.
“Paranoia, insomnia, confusion, sleeping too much, forgetting the day or the time, rapidly changing emotions… Did I forget anything, Faye?” Morgan asked, prodding Ginny with her short, stubby finger as she listed off symptoms. Ginny felt a wave of concern grip her stomach; by all rights, she’d been experiencing everything that Morgan had listed off.
“Feeling as though someone is watching you, the inability to concentrate on one thing for too long, becoming unreasonably snappish and jumpy. You’ve been feeling like that for awhile, haven’t you, dear?” Faye asked softly. Ginny closed her eyes, breathing deeply to quell the panic. They’re going to tell me I’ve gone mad, that I’m displaying the classic symptoms of some mental disorder and then I’ll be locked up in St. Mungo’s forever and no one will believe that I’m not mad, because I’ve been questioning my own sanity myself? All these panic-borne thoughts were flashing through her mind, as she opened her eyes, and met with two identical pairs of blue eyes, twinkling at her with kindness and concern. Both sets reflected wisdom and humour, and her panic receded as she recognize the same kind expressions on their faces as could often be seen on the face of the greatest wizard who ever lived.
“Yes. All of it,” she breathed. Their eyes met, and they nodded.
“Been thinking you’ve gone a bit mad, haven’t you? Well not to worry, you are perfectly sane. Those are all side effects of this potion you’ve been taking,” Morgan announced.
“But I haven’t been taking it, not a lot anyway,” she protested.
“Not that you may have known about, dear. Oh, goodness, where to begin to explain this all to her? How much knowledge does she have about Muggles?” Morgan asked Vincent.
“She’s a fairly well-learned young woman, I imagine she knows quite a bit. The younger generations have become SO integrated with them over the years. Why, when I was in school, we didn’t even have a Muggle Studies teacher!” Vincent declared.
“Sorry to be a bit insistent, but what did you mean by saying that I might not have known I’ve been taking it?” Ginny demanded, her mind spinning furiously as she realized what this could mean.
“All those symptoms you said that you’d been feeling, we think that they’re being caused by a constant dose of a specific potion, and that someone you know might be drugging you without your knowledge,” Faye answered.
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Thanks for reading!
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Chapter 9: Sins of the Father and All That...
“I never should have listened to you,” Draco snapped, as he paced around in circles, feeling like a caged animal. The darkened room felt oppressive and small, far too small for the amount of anger he was feeling.
“What other choice did you have? This was the only way, the only option you had at the time!” the victim of his anger shot back, his voice alluding to the fact that his patience had been pushed to the very edge of its limits.
“Look what’s happened to her! How could this have been the only way? Did you see her?” Draco shouted, stopping in his tracks.
“She’s alive, isn’t she? That means there’s still a chance for this to work. I know it’s difficult, but would you rather the alternative? I thought you were stronger than this, Draco. You told me that you were ready to do anything.”
“Sod off! How would you feel if you were in my position? Three damn months, I’ve been helpless to do anything, watching this nonsense happen while I watched from the bloody sidelines! You don’t seem to understand!” he yelled.
“There are forces out there harming what is yours. Of course I understand, boy. It’s a Malfoy thing, being possessive our ‘treasure’, and getting right upset when others infringe on our hoard,” his uncle Vincent sighed. Draco glared at him, and attempted to contain his emotions. All these months, unable to do anything, and she was now in the other room – so close yet so far away – and he was still helpless. The strange twist of fate that had brought them to this point had rendered him useless to her; a fear he’d always had about their relationship.
“It’s more than just infringing, look at the state she’s in!” Draco snarled, his control shattering.
“I realize you are upset, and after months of being alone, unable to share your… lovely and endearing... temperament with anyone, you’re more than ready to jump down anyone’s throat who crosses your path. But there are more important things to focus on. Like the fact that you should not be here when she’s finally awake. Check in on her, say your farewell, and then go do what you have to do. Otherwise, this will never end,” his uncle said, gesturing to the door behind him. Draco sighed heavily.
“I thought that this part of my life was over. Well, you know what they say, sins of the father and all that,” he said bitterly. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
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He sat down on the bed next to where she was lying, on her side, curled into the foetus position. It was hard to believe that she was alive, she was so still, and the dim lighting gave her skin an ethereal sheen that was haunting to see. But he watched carefully, and counted the seconds between breaths. He reached out to touch her face, to brush her hair away from her eyes, but pulled it back at the last second.
“I feel strangely compelled to talk to you, even though I know that you either can’t hear me, or you’re too drugged up to even understand what I’m saying. Speaking of which, I can’t say I’m not relieved that you were stoned when I dropped by tonight. I can only imagine the ‘greeting’ I would have received otherwise,” he said dryly.
He pictured in his mind what she would have done, would have said and how wonderful she looked when she was infuriated and sighed. There were times, when despite the overwhelming height and weight advantage he had over her, she’d still try to push him. She made him stumble once, by catching him off guard, a moment of triumph that she reminded him of as often as possible.
“We’re going to make this right. All you have to do is keep your neck out of trouble and remember. Of course, you could promise not to take my head off the next time we come face-to-face, as a courtesy because, after all, I will be taking care of the rest. It’s fairly good deal for you, Weasel, and you well know that I don’t feel this charitable very often so you’d better make sure that you keep your end of the deal,” he said. Leaning down, hovering above her, he resisted the urge to touch her, to feel her warm skin, to reassure himself that she was really there and safe. “It’s really important, Ginny. You have to remember. Everything else depends on that. Whatever happens, whatever you think you know, however they try to twist it, you have to remember.”
He stood up, his resolve to let her sleep beginning to crack. Inhale. One, two, three, four. Exhale. She was breathing, he could stop counting, she was alive, and for now, she was safe. That needed to be enough for now. He turned to walk away.
“You don’t know it yet, but we defied fate once already. I take that as a sign that we can do anything together. So hang in there, with me, and the impossible will become completely possible,” he said softly.
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“Going to have a chat with Ballan?” Vincent asked, as Draco reappeared in his study. His nephew looked ragged, worn around the edges. He’d aged considerably in such a short time, but Vincent supposed that was the price to pay for rebelling against an ancient curse.
“A civilised conversation is more of what I had in mind. Maybe he’ll give me a straight answer on something,” Draco groaned, his head in his hands as he sank into a soft armchair. He was exhausted; physically, mentally, emotionally.
“Are you planning on retrieving the sword from its cache?” Vincent asked.
“I’ve already got it, I didn’t want to take any chances,” Draco said. His uncle glared at him, shooting out of his seat. Draco straightened up, startled by this reaction.
“You brought it here? In the same spot as the two of you? That’s exactly the kind of catalyst that could destroy everything. Why, in the name of the gods, boy, would you tempt fate by laughing at her like that?” he cried out. Draco’s temper snapped.
“This isn’t fate, this is my life! And her life! And it’s been meddled with, but certainly not by fate!” Draco shot back.
“But to bring that sword into the same place where you both are, that’s inviting the curse to seek its fulfillment. You stopped it once and I don’t know that it would work again,” Vincent warned gruffly.
“It’s not getting what it wants. It’s not happening,” Draco said, his eyes blazing with defiance. His uncle just scoffed at him, knowing that his arrogance would undoubtedly be his downfall one day.
“Before you leave, did you do what I asked you to?” Vincent asked. Draco nodded solemnly, reaching into his pocket and extracting a number of vials filled with silvery liquid, and placing them on the end table.
“They’re all there.”
“Excellent. Now, get out of here,” Vincent said, with an affectionate smile for his nephew.
“I hope you know what you’re going to tell her when she wakes, because she’s going to have a lot of questions, and you know how good she is at getting answers from people who aren’t very forthcoming under normal circumstances,” Draco said warningly.
“I’ve got it figured out, don’t you worry about her,” Vincent said. After a moment, he reached out and grasped his shoulder. “She’ll be safe here, I promise.”
“Good. And if she’s not, I’ll kill you,” Draco said, casually enough, but with enough cold rage behind it to make it a lasting threat. “When she wakes up, you should take her out to the clearing to see the unicorns. She’ll appreciate that.”
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“Ooh, Morgan, it looks like she’s waking up!” a voice crowed in the dark, the sound reverberating throughout Ginny’s head painfully. As her eyes drifted open, she began blinking furiously against the brightness that filled her sight, throwing her hands up in front of her face to ward against it.
“Be quiet, Faye, she probably has a raging headache and doesn’t need the shrill sounds of your voice to add to her pain, the poor dear,” another voice chimed in, this one speaking in much softer tones. Ginny carefully peeked around her hands, trying to figure out whom these voices belonged to, where she was and what she was doing there. The last thing she could remember was Darien leaving her flat in a huff. Oh… Darien…I forgot about that whole disaster, Ginny thought, noting to herself that she’d be lucky if he ever spoke to her again. Malfoys are not very forgiving when their egos have been wounded.
“I should probably run and fetch Vincent, she’s not going to know where she is, or who we are. Better have a familiar face around, I think,” the first one spoke. Ginny’s vision cleared significantly, and she was shocked to see that she was in a well-lit bedroom, and there were two elderly women hovering over her, peering down at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She blinked, confused, as the two women were looking back at her with exactly the same face. In fact, the only difference between the two of them that Ginny could discern were that they were wearing different coloured robes. The one on her right was dressed in blue, the other in green.
“She’s a clever girl, I’m sure she’ll figure out where she is. She has been here before, after all,” the one in blue said. At her words, Ginny’s eyes darted around the room. Indeed, it was rather familiar. It was the bedroom she’d used during her first trip to the Malfoy family home in Bulgaria. She was in Bulgaria? How did she get there?
“Morgan, just run and fetch him. Now, easy love, you’re head’s going to start to spin as you try to sit up,” the soft-voiced one spoke, speaking directly to Ginny as she made a move to sit up.
“I think my head’s already spinning,” Ginny muttered, bracing herself against the bedspread as her vision did spin a little as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “I was in England before I fell asleep, and now I’m in Bulgaria. That’s quite a spin.”
“Ah, you do know where you are! Excellent!” the one heading out the door declared shrilly. Ginny winced against the noise.
“How’s your head, dear? I bet it’s pounding. I’d give you a potion to clear that up, but I’m afraid it might interact with what you’ve already been taking, so you will just have to grunt through, I’m afraid,” she said kindly. Ginny stared at her blankly and didn’t say anything.
“Virginia! You’re awake! That’s excellent, we were beginning to wonder about you!” the rich voice of Draco’s uncle boomed as he entered the room. Ginny turned her head to stare at him, unsure at the strange mix of emotions that swelled when she laid eyes on him. An overwhelming wave of comfort and safety mingled with bitterness and betrayal. “It’s been quite awhile, my dear! I was wondering when we’d hear from you again.”
“Quite awhile, yes. Over three months, actually. A rather lot has happened since then,” Ginny said, her tone harsh. “For example, your nephew tried to kill me and you’ve refused to accept the post I’ve been sending you ever since.”
“I’m sorry about that, my dear, but I’m sure, after all your time with Draco, that you know that –”
“-That nothing is as it seems. I’ve heard it all before, and frankly, my patience with Malfoys and their cryptic answers, scheming and secrecy has worn rather thin. So, sod off with it. Just say you’d rather not tell me, instead of dancing around the issue. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a politician. I’m better at it than you are,” she interrupted, glaring at him defiantly. The elderly man, a more distinguished version of Darien, stared at her in surprise, and she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks in anger as she observed a sparkle of humour in his eyes.
“Of course, Virginia. We have missed you around here, you know,” he said with a smile, and Ginny felt her anger die away, as her great affection for Vincent slowly began to return. He was all warmth and intellectual discussions, and simply being around him brought back the feeling of family and fondness that had developed over her time with his nephew. As her anger was calmed a bit, she realized that she hadn’t asked the obvious question, and felt rather discomfited.
“Right. So now that I’ve been a right stroppy brat, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me how I got here?” she asked, somewhat sheepishly. He laughed, a full hearty sound that brought on a wave of nostalgia that she had to fight.
“That’s quite a mystery, my dear. We’ve been wondering the same thing ourselves. Elizabeth found you, collapsed in the study, completely covered in soot. We figured that you just Flooed over, and we were quite concerned, what with the bump on your head and the fact that we couldn’t wake you at all. Luckily, our guests here are well-known MediWizards and were able to help you out immediately. Ginny Weasley, this is Morgan and Faye Modron,” he said, gesturing to the two elderly ladies who were now both poking and prodding Ginny with inquisitive looks on their faces. She drew away from their prodding carefully, gasping slightly as her head spun a bit.
“I don’t know why I would come here. The last thing I remember…” she trailed off. The last thing I remember is your son storming out of my apartment after I rejected him, she thought, a hot, unsettled feeling washing over her as she remembered the look in Darien’s eyes. “I don’t remember how or why I would come here.”
“Well, dear, we have a bit of a theory on that matter,” the shrill-voiced sister, Morgan, spoke up. She held up a small vial for Ginny’s scrutiny. “You’ve been taking this potion regularly?”
“Not regularly, just when I’ve needed it. A little more, lately, it seems, but not on an everyday basis,” Ginny explained, recognizing the bottle as the one from her bathroom. Morgan exchanged a pointed look with her sister.
“Have you been going a bit batty over the past couple weeks?” the soft-spoken MediWizard, Faye, asked her, peering at Ginny, much to close to her face for Ginny’s comfort.
“Pardon me?” she asked, slightly affronted by that question. It was one thing to think yourself mad, but quite another for a perfect stranger to broach the subject.
“Paranoia, insomnia, confusion, sleeping too much, forgetting the day or the time, rapidly changing emotions… Did I forget anything, Faye?” Morgan asked, prodding Ginny with her short, stubby finger as she listed off symptoms. Ginny felt a wave of concern grip her stomach; by all rights, she’d been experiencing everything that Morgan had listed off.
“Feeling as though someone is watching you, the inability to concentrate on one thing for too long, becoming unreasonably snappish and jumpy. You’ve been feeling like that for awhile, haven’t you, dear?” Faye asked softly. Ginny closed her eyes, breathing deeply to quell the panic. They’re going to tell me I’ve gone mad, that I’m displaying the classic symptoms of some mental disorder and then I’ll be locked up in St. Mungo’s forever and no one will believe that I’m not mad, because I’ve been questioning my own sanity myself? All these panic-borne thoughts were flashing through her mind, as she opened her eyes, and met with two identical pairs of blue eyes, twinkling at her with kindness and concern. Both sets reflected wisdom and humour, and her panic receded as she recognize the same kind expressions on their faces as could often be seen on the face of the greatest wizard who ever lived.
“Yes. All of it,” she breathed. Their eyes met, and they nodded.
“Been thinking you’ve gone a bit mad, haven’t you? Well not to worry, you are perfectly sane. Those are all side effects of this potion you’ve been taking,” Morgan announced.
“But I haven’t been taking it, not a lot anyway,” she protested.
“Not that you may have known about, dear. Oh, goodness, where to begin to explain this all to her? How much knowledge does she have about Muggles?” Morgan asked Vincent.
“She’s a fairly well-learned young woman, I imagine she knows quite a bit. The younger generations have become SO integrated with them over the years. Why, when I was in school, we didn’t even have a Muggle Studies teacher!” Vincent declared.
“Sorry to be a bit insistent, but what did you mean by saying that I might not have known I’ve been taking it?” Ginny demanded, her mind spinning furiously as she realized what this could mean.
“All those symptoms you said that you’d been feeling, we think that they’re being caused by a constant dose of a specific potion, and that someone you know might be drugging you without your knowledge,” Faye answered.
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