On Fire (18 & 19)
P R E V I O U S L Y:
chapter 01 || chapter 02 || chapter 03 || chapter 04 || chapter 05 || chapter 06
chapter 07 || chapter 08 || chapter 09 || chapter 10 || chapter 11 || chapter 12
chapter 13 || chapter 14 || chapter 15 || chapter 16 || chapter 17
Title: On Fire (18/?)
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Rating: PG
Summary: Meet Ginny Weasley, a girl who alienates herself from her family and house when she becomes friends with two Slytherins. One of them is her best friend, and the other is her family’s enemy; both are in love with her. When the war finally reaches its terrifying end, Ginny finds that she can't choose between them. Well, wars have a funny way of making decisions for you...
WARNINGS: CHARACTER DEATH.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR. I'd like to think the plot as mine, however. Title of the story inspired by the song by Switchfoot, and the story itself was initially inspired by Stormswift by Madeleine Brent. However, it's become a completely different animal, so I daresay it doesn't hold much in similar with that story.
Note: Now AU because of HBP. See large note in Chapter 1 for more.
if you returned to me
I would be happy once again
but today you are gone
and there is no turning back
- Josh Groban,
roughly translated from Spanish
Aftermath, Pt. 2:
Mourning
Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling the small scream that escaped from her lips. She reread the tag over and over again, thinking that her mind was playing tricks on her. Yet, no matter how long she stared at the words, they refused to change. Her brother, Fred Weasley, was dead.
Her legs had gone numb from the cold, but the only feelings her mind registered were muddled mixtures of anger and grief. She couldn’t believe the letters and numbers from the tag, which were forcing their way into her consciousness. She could have sworn that she had seen Fred laughing and pulling pranks just a second before. Yet here he lay, like a flame that had been snuffed out and could never be lit again.
After a few moments of stunned blankness, she identified her first conscious thought: why, of all of her brothers, did Fred have to die? She wouldn’t have minded seeing Percy’s foot and nametag before her; after all, he was the one who defected from the Weasleys and betrayed them all by allying himself with Fudge and the Ministry. The only betrayal that Fred had ever committed centered on (mostly) harmless pranks. Fred had a strong sense of loyalty and family, and never even considered turning his back on his parents and siblings.
Yet, the Fates had decided to twist the knife that was already firmly embedded in her side. Her fun-loving, mischievous, loud, and quite obnoxious brother, one half of the duo that was Gred and Feorge, had been taken from her. Tears poured down Ginny’s face as memories of Fred flashed before her eyes. She remembered watching Ron cry when Fred had turned his pillow into a spider, laughing at his outrageous pranks, storming at him indignantly when those pranks turned on her, and laughing through her tears when he promised to send her a toilet seat from Hogwarts. It was last year that he and George had escaped from that toad Umbridge’s power at Hogwarts, yet she could recall the stink from their swamp as clearly as if she had smelled it yesterday.
As each memory passed through her mind, she realized that she had missed countless opportunities to tell him that she loved him. All of those times that she had interacted with him, they had known subconsciously that they loved each other; after all, she and Fred were siblings, which meant that they shared blood and a certain intuition about each other’s feelings. Yet, after Percy had left them all, the entire family had had to work on strengthening that unspoken bond between all of them. Even then, the importance of expressing her feelings had never crossed her mind. Granted, her brothers would have been bloody uncomfortable to hear “I love you,” or “I care about you,” but they would have treasured the memory, even as she would have.
Ginny knew that there was only so much that one could say in actions; sometimes, the words themselves needed to be expressed. She knew that she had forever missed that opportunity to tell Fred. She hung her head guiltily when she remembered that the last time she had seen him, she had been chasing him around the Burrow, threatening to hex him if he didn’t return her hairbrush. Had he remembered that before he died? Did he leave his life, thinking that she hadn’t loved him? She could only hope that her actions had been loving enough, and hadn’t fallen woefully short of the truth.
Her thoughts immediately turned to her family members. She hadn’t told any of them, even her mum, that she loved them. Was it too late for them as well? After a quick glance around, Ginny sighed with relief when she saw that no other Weasleys were on the floor. Thinking of her family brought up an important fact; Fred had always been inseparable from his best friend and twin, George. Ginny blanched when she thought of how distraught George must be without his brother. Had anyone told him about Fred’s death? She certainly hoped that he had not been left to suffer unknowingly, much like she had.
Ginny frowned a bit as she remembered that she had been left alone. Was anyone even thinking about her at that moment? Did anyone care that she had opened this door and discovered the cruel death toll on her own? Or was her family attempting to shield her, once again? Ginny once again fervently hoped that no one was shielding George from news of Fred’s death. She could still recall the concern in his eyes during the battle when he had asked her about Fred’s whereabouts...
Her frown turned thoughtful as her eyes glazed over when she realized that Fred’s death had been indirectly foreshadowed by that incident, just as Blaise’s death had been predicted by his own words. Ginny wanted to smack herself for not noticing that importance sooner. Twice, events had indicated the future, yet she had naively refrained from reading between the lines. For a moment, Ginny wondered if this realization would boost her grades in Divination. She quickly pushed that inane thought out of her head and refocused on the body of her deceased brother.
The sight of the tag instantly sobered her, and her musings returned to Fred. Since she had never had the chance to tell him how much she loved him, she decided to finally pay her respects to him. She opened her mouth, trying to articulate how she felt… but found that she couldn’t. She was such a jumble of fear, anger, sorrow, and guilt that she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Nor did she know how to continue from that beginning, and where to end. After much struggling for the right words, Ginny simply said, “I love you, Fred. I miss you… so much,” she ended with a sob. She bowed her head in grief, longing for her brother once again. Unable to continue, she slowly stood up before she became a blubbering mess, and mentally bid him a final farewell.
She stared at his sheet-covered body for a moment, steeling herself for the rest of this last row of bodies. She still had to find Blaise, for she hadn’t told him how she felt about him, either. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she sidestepped to the next body. Her mouth fell open in shock when she recognized the name on the body’s nametag. She quickly moved to the last two bodies, her eyes widening when she read those tags, as well. Blinking in surprise, she crouched before the body in the middle, staring off into space as she comprehended what she had just read:
Name: Zabini, Anthony
Age: 49
Wand: Oak w/ dragon heartstring, 11 ¾ inches, rigid
Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other
Name: Zabini, Blaise
Age: 16
Wand: Oak w/ dragon heartstring, 11 inches, pliable
Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other
Name: Zabini, Victoria
Age: 44
Wand: Birch w/ unicorn tail hair, 10 ¼ inches, swishy
Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other
Ginny knew that since the other two shared Blaise’s last name, they were both related to him. But what was the nature of that relation? She idly tapped a finger against her cheek, searching her mind for vague names mentioned in the society pages of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Finally, a completely different memory surfaced in her mind.
It had been another October evening; after dinner, she, Blaise, and Draco had adjourned to their customary classroom discussions. Blaise was currently amusing himself by playing with her hair, while she and Draco intently discussed their childhoods.
“Honestly, Ginevra,” Draco drawled, “I don’t know how you survived all these years with six brothers. I’d never give up being an only child for anything in the world.”
Ginny earnestly replied, “Well, it wasn’t that awful. I got quite accustomed being the baby of the family... until now.”
Behind her, Blaise’s hand had ceased touching her hair. “I would have given anything to have lived in your family,” he stated quietly, his breath stirring a few of her hairs. Both Draco and Ginny were shocked into silence by this comment.
“Blaise,” Draco scoffed from the other side of the room, “you can’t possibly-”
“I mean it,” he coldly cut him off. Surprised at his tone, Ginny twisted around in her seat and looked at him questioning. He met her gaze boldly and unrepentantly, his eyes almost black in the shadows. “You don’t know what it’s like to live in my family,” he explained. His eyes lightened to their familiar blue as he stared off into space and continued, “I’m the last of the Zabinis, not including my mother and father, of course. All my life, I’ve been expected to live and act in ways that would honor my ancestors. Never mind the current society that we live in, which encourages me to define my own wants and needs. I was only allowed to be a Zabini...”
Her expression changed into one of sympathy and understanding as she turned her eyes back to the bodies before her. The names on the tags that lay on either side of Blaise’s body must belong to his parents. So, despite their efforts to keep the Zabini name blemish-free and living, their family line had finally ended.
Ginny sat back on her haunches, and wondered what it would be like to be the only one left of her family. Could she survive each day, knowing that she would never see her brothers’ smirks, her father’s avid curiosity, and her mother’s face contorted in motherly concern? What would it have been like for Blaise to know that he were the last of his line? Generations after him would look at his deeds and judge him for them, never caring about the person he was or the circumstances that he lived in. The memory of his ancestors would forever be dishonored if he did something stupid; however, they would be remembered fondly if he managed to make a success of himself. In the mean time, there he was, torn between the past and future, never getting the chance to enjoy the present… and his own life.
Astonished by the terrible life Blaise must have led, Ginny turned her eyes back to his shrouded body with newfound respect. She would have run away instead of remaining and making do with her lot in life. She couldn’t imagine the amount of strength and confidence it would have required living in those circumstances. Yet… that very same life required him to become a Death Eater, and he hadn’t been strong enough to refute that call. Ginny had once thought him a coward for becoming one, but here she was, admiring him for his strength and resolution in doing it!
Her brows furrowed in confusion, for she was not at all sure of how she was supposed to feel about Blaise. She hated him for betraying her friendship and trust, yet admired him for his strength and courage. On the heels of that admiration were remnants of her love for him. Overwhelmed by her emotions, Ginny let loose her frustration in the only way imaginable; she buried her face in her hands and cried. She cried for every moment she had loved him, and every second that she had hated him. As the tears fell, she felt like she had barely known him. If only she could have taken a closer look at him and understood him better, instead of jumping at the chance to hurt him. If only she had found a way to use that knowledge to help him escape his fate as a Death Eater. If only…
She sniffed a little as her tears dried in streaks down her cheeks. Somehow, she doubted that she would have ever been able to change his mind. Even after a few months as his friend, Ginny knew that Blaise was stubborn to the point of arrogance. Once he decided on a course of action, he never wavered from it because he never thought his choice was wrong. No matter what Ginny would have tried, she knew that she would have had no luck in convincing him of the error of his ways.
Yet, knowing all of that about him, she had chosen to ignore the fact that he was a Slytherin and eventual Death Eater. She had conveniently overlooked his name, his house, his family, and his life, focusing instead on the fact that he had noticed her. After all, that was what Ginny had always wanted: to be noticed. She had always wanted to be heard, to have her opinion respected and taken into consideration, to have her say in the world around her. When she had seen Blaise on the train that fateful September day, she had finally found someone who cared enough to listen to her. Blinded by that fact, she had forgotten who he was and had decided to forget her own house, family, and friends, for him… and Draco.
Ginny dropped her head in shame when she thought of Draco. He must have been in the same predicament as Blaise had been. Both of them had come from rich, pureblooded families, and they were both only children. Draco was also the sole Malfoy heir, and he must have faced the same expectations that Blaise had. Instead of considering his lifestyle, she had simply walked away from him and Blaise.
Thinking back on the past few weeks, Ginny wondered if maybe she had been right in avoiding him and Blaise after that meeting with Voldemort. Merlin only knew what those two would have been capable of if they believed becoming Death Eaters was their duty to their families.
All of this doubt and questioning confused Ginny again; at this point, she was floundering in her sea of emotions, wondering just how she could make sense of all of this. The confusion she felt about Draco was further complicated by the fact she had been in love with him. Had he even felt an eighth of how she felt for him? Was he thinking of her when he decided to follow Voldemort? Or had she been as meaningless as a flubberworm, only a nuisance yet not worth any of his concern? For that matter, had Blaise thought about her when he made that same decision?
Rage seeped into the muddle of emotions and flowed through her. Both of them had obviously never thought about her or what she would think of their fates in life. They never thought to wonder if she would understand them or immediately hate them. Of course, she reasoned with herself, she had immediately hated them. But that was merely a reaction to this gross miscommunication between them! She wouldn’t have gone straight to Harry if she knew that there was a logical reason behind their decision.
Shaking her head, Ginny stared at Blaise’s nametag miserably. All of this knowledge was meaningless, now that Blaise was dead. Merlin knew it soothed some of her hurt, but what was the point in soothing the hurt when she couldn’t tell him that she loved him? What good did understanding after the fact do, when it should have happened much earlier? With a sinking heart, Ginny knew that she had been an idiot this entire time for not trying to find the reasons behind Blaise and Draco’s defection.
She mulled over the word “defection” for a moment, remembering that she had used that same word to describe Percy’s betrayal of her family. If there was a reason for Blaise’s defection, was there also a reason for Percy’s? Ginny snapped out of her trance-like state immediately, berating herself for thinking that there was something good left in that git brother of hers.
Turning her attention back to Blaise, she tried to say something to him like she had done for Fred. Once again, she found herself speechless. One part of her just wanted to leave and figuratively “lick her wounds” elsewhere, while blaming Blaise and Draco for the mess that they had made. Yet, another, more sensible part of her mind rooted her feet to the floor, forcing her to acknowledge her own fault in their ruined friendship. Helpless to her own conscience, Ginny searched her mind for words to express what she felt.
Finally, she sighed deeply and whispered, “What happened to us, Blaise?” Well, she obviously knew the answer to that question, so she tried again. “Why did you do it?” No, she now knew the answer to that question, as well. With some reluctance, she finally bit out, “Where did I go wrong in this mess?”
There. She had finally admitted her own guilt in this situation; immediately after saying it, Ginny was amazed at how clearer her emotions seemed. Boosted by her admittance, she tentatively continued, “Why didn’t you tell me why you did it? I would have understood, Blaise,” she nearly pleaded with the figure before her, acting as though he were still alive. “I would have helped you find a way out. You didn’t have to do all of this for your family. In fact,” she changed her tone to a lighter one, “I think the future Zabinis would have respected you for breaking apart from your supposed duty to your family, and doing what you thought was right.” She paused and murmured, “Of course, that’s only if you really did feel that Voldemort was wrong…”
Realizing that she was opening a Pandora’s box of questions, Ginny shook her mind to clear it, and changed tactics. “Now,” she said sorrowfully, “there won’t be any future Zabinis. Generations from now, people will only remember you as a Hogwarts student who was tragically lost during this battle. Right now,” she continued earnestly, “the only thing separating you from the other bodies lying here on the floor is your name and…” she paused as she looked at his nametag again, “your wand.”
She shook her head sadly and continued, “I wish I could know if you really thought it was worth it. Was it worth dying for your obligations to your family, Blaise? Was it worth losing the right to follow your own heart, only to end up on this cold floor? Did you think it was worthwhile to hurt me,” she bit out the last word with a choked tone, “to do your duty? Was I really worth nothing to you?” she finished in a full sob.
Tears escaped her eyes as she closed them. After a few moments, she realized that her tears wouldn’t stop; she rose to her feet and shakily whispered, “I wish you had trusted me more.” With one last, longing look, she quickly turned and blindly found her way past the bodies to the door. Sparing a final glance at the room, which was now a blue and white blur through her tears, Ginny finally stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
The soft click from the door’s bolt echoed through the quiet infirmary. Ginny’s tearful expression quickly turned to one of apprehension when she saw a nearby clock; she had spent nearly an hour in a cold room, surrounded by lifeless bodies. Horrified by being surrounded by death, she tiptoed her way to the infirmary door, hoping to calm her nerves with some fresh air. Just as she reached out to twist the knob, she heard heavy footsteps approaching the door from the other side.
Instinct overruled her mind as Ginny immediately scampered to her bed, kicked off her shoes and dove under the sheets, feigning sleep. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she heard the infirmary door slowly creak open; heavy steps echoed through the room as the person entered and made their way to the beds. Ginny was tense with anticipation, hoping that they were here to see her. However, the unknown person stopped near the vicinity of the closest bed to the door, which was certainly not hers.
Ginny was a little disappointed by this, but curiosity got the best of her when she heard a grunt and shuffling robes. Quieting her thoughts, she focused on listening to whatever this mysterious person was doing in the room. Her careful ears picked up the faint sound of bedsprings creaking as something was laid on the bed that this person had stopped at. The same heavy steps echoed again as the person moved to the doorway leading to Madame Pomfrey’s private chamber; she heard her or him knock once on the door, then open it on their own. There was a soft rustle of robes, and then the door was shut from within Pomfrey’s chambers.
Noticing that the room was silent again, Ginny cautiously opened her eyes and slowly sat up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had been dropped on the bed. Before her eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, she heard running feet approaching the infirmary door from the outside hallway. She immediately dropped flat on her bed and resumed acting as though she was asleep. The footsteps soon reached the open door of the infirmary, and Ginny was surprised to distinguish two sets of footsteps. One consisted mostly of rusting robes; the other was a stalking gait with sure steps. Just as she finished processing this information, the stalking gait faltered by the bed that was nearest to the door.
“Potter?” someone asked.
Ginny’s eyes flew open in shock, but she immediately closed them and willed her breathing to slow down. She recognized that voice, all right; it belonged to Draco Malfoy.
She forgot about listening to the newer occupants of the room as her mind teemed with questions. Why was he in the infirmary, instead of at Azkaban, where the other Death Eaters probably were? Was he hurt? Had something happened to someone she knew? Before Ginny moved on to realizing the name Draco had said, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a woman’s loud gasp.
Ginny’s mind immediately returned to the other people who were in the infirmary with her. Ginny had heard that gasp loads of times in this very room; Madame Pomfrey must be there.
“Headmaster, Mr. Malfoy,” said a gravelly, deep voice, which Ginny knew belonged to Professor Snape. Before she could even wonder what he was doing there, he continued in a quietly amazed tone, almost as though he were talking to himself, “I never thought I’d live to see this day.”
What day? Ginny longed to cry out, but she held her tongue and waited breathlessly.
She didn’t have to wait for long. “The Boy-Who-Lived,” he paused for effect, “is now dead.”
Note: The woods for the wands are from JKR's list of Celtic woods that she used for Harry, Hermione, and Ron's wands. The other attributes of the wands are of my own imagination. Also, the underlined words after the "Affiliation:" part is basically what was circled on the tag.
Title: On Fire (19/?)
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Rating: PG
Summary: Meet Ginny Weasley, a girl who alienates herself from her family and house when she becomes friends with two Slytherins. One of them is her best friend, and the other is her family’s enemy; both are in love with her. When the war finally reaches its terrifying end, Ginny finds that she can't choose between them. Well, wars have a funny way of making decisions for you...
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR. I'd like to think the plot as mine, however. Title of the story inspired by the song by Switchfoot, and the story itself was initially inspired by Stormswift by Madeleine Brent. However, it's become a completely different animal, so I daresay it doesn't hold much in similar with that story.
Note: Now AU because of HBP. See large note in Chapter 1 for more.
my hands are tied
my body bruised, she's got me with
nothing to win and
nothing left to lose
and you give yourself away
- U2
Draco’s Detour
This time, Ginny really had to force herself to keep quiet. Her mind was teeming with so many questions that she momentarily forgot where she was. Voldemort had been defeated, so Harry had evidently killed him. But why had they only discovered Harry’s death now. Had he been alive before? Clenching her eyes shut and gritting her teeth, she forced herself to keep quiet. She wouldn’t be able to hear the rest of the conversation if she allowed herself to get swept away by her emotions once again.
“How?” Pomfrey cried out, pain evident in her strained voice.
There was a momentary pause, then Dumbledore replied, “There is only one person who could have done this... Severus?” he asked gently, as though indicating that Snape knew of whom Dumbledore was referring to.
Ginny heard another rustle of robes, then Snape dutifully murmured, “Yes, Headmaster. I fear it is he who has done this. I will search for him immediately, but in the meantime, I suggest that Mr. Malfoy here is sent somewhere safe. There’s no telling how the Daily Prophet will render his presence at the discovery of Potter’s body...”
“But Professor-” Draco interjected.
“No, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore gently insisted. “Professor Snape is correct in his assumptions. We must get you to a place of safety as soon as possible.”
Silence permeated the room, then Draco replied resignedly, “And my mother?” He paused, and Ginny lay there, wondering what looks were being exchanged at that moment. Draco suddenly blurted out, “Surely you’re not going forbid her from coming here! She’s been dying to see him...”
The care and sympathy in Dumbledore’s voice was evident when he interrupted, “I know, Draco. But it is much too dangerous for her to be here.” Ginny was momentarily startled when Dumbledore called him by his first name. She’d only heard him refer to Harry or one of the teachers in that way.
Before she could muse further, Draco was now shouting, “Don’t you have wards on this damn castle? She loves him!”
“Mr. Malfoy!” Snape barked, clearly indignant at Draco’s language.
Before a fight started between the two Slytherins, Dumbledore interjected, “She knows of the danger she is in. She knew it all along, Draco. While your intentions are admirable, they are also pointless.”
Draco sounded nearly deflated with defeat when he muttered quickly, “Fine. Then will you let me stay here for a moment? I still haven’t said good-bye.” His initial indignation dissolved into a choked sob at the last word.
“Certainly,” Dumbledore replied. “But I must ask that you finish quickly. Time is of the essence now.”
“Right. I’ll only need fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Very well. Poppy, my dear, please see to Harry. In the meantime, perhaps you would join me, Severus…”
Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably and began, “I desire a quick word with Mr. Malfoy, Headmaster. I shall join you outside momentarily.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore repeated; from the lilt of his tone, Ginny was certain that his blue eyes were twinkling once again.
The room was filled with the sounds of sweeping robes, quiet footsteps, and light murmuring. Ginny had lost all sense of perspective, what with her shock at hearing about Harry’s death. Hence her great surprise when she heard Snape in close proximity of her bed, murmuring, “Your mother is completely unaware of his condition?”
“Yes,” Draco muttered back. “She deserves to know. Professor, please…”
“I’ll do what I can,” Snape replied vaguely. “In the meantime, what do you plan on doing right now?”
Draco snorted and drawled sarcastically, “Well, I’ve certainly lost all off my usefulness.” He sobered quickly and muttered, “There’s no reason for me to exist, is there? Mother’s going to be heartbroken for the rest of her life, I can’t torment Potter any longer, I’ve lost the only true friends I’ve ever had, and now I have to go into hiding to save my sorry ass. I’m more than tempted to throw myself at the next Death Eater I see.”
There was a rustling of robes, and Ginny could imagine Snape placing a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder as he answered, “I’m surprised by your melodramatic tendencies, Draco. No wonder you were able to play your part so well.”
Draco merely snorted in reply. Snape sighed and continued, “You know that our sorry excuses for Aurors will need all the help they can get to find the Dark Lord’s remaining followers, don’t you?” There was silence, but Draco must have nodded because Snape persisted, “You could help them, Draco. Only you and I have valuable information. I’ve transferred all of my memories to a pensieve and let the Ministry look inside. Perhaps you should do the same?” More silence, and Snape cajoled, “It would ease your pain, Draco.”
“That’s just it, Uncle,” Draco spat out, “There’s nothing to ‘ease.’ I’m completely hollow inside.” Ginny could well imagine the pain that he was going through - the shock of her own discoveries had left her completely numb to all that went on around her. In fact, she was still struggling to realize the gravity of the situation at hand.
A long pause followed Draco’s outburst, and Snape said quietly, “It will help you, Draco. I cannot make up your mind for you, but if you happen to change it… you know where to find me.” With that, Snape left in a swish of robes and determined steps.
Ginny thought that Draco had left with him, for her ears only discerned Pomfrey’s pattering feet and the sounds of rustling sheets from near the entrance. She was just about to open her eyes and finally contemplate all that she had heard when she heard Draco sigh. She nearly jumped out of her bed, startled that he was still there. Thankfully, he didn’t notice her precarious situation, for his retreating footsteps indicated that he was walking towards… the opposite side of the infirmary.
Curious at his actions, Ginny calmed herself again and listened hard. She was surprised to hear him say out loud, almost to himself, “I’ll tell her. I’m sure she wishes she were here, but she can’t - you know how it is.” He paused and whispered, “It was a pleasure. She’ll miss you.”
Ginny was utterly confused at his words. The only other person in the infirmary was Remus Lupin. Draco couldn’t be talking to him; after all, as he’d say himself, what would he want with a werewolf?
Even as she mulled over this mystery, she heard his footsteps cross over the room again, towards her bed. Ginny unconsciously stiffened at his approach; when she realized her unnatural reaction, she tried her best to relax her body and feign sleep once again.
Apparently, her ruse worked, because when Draco reached her side, he immediately muttered under his breath, “Merlin help me, I was friends with a Weasley.”
Ginny arm twitched reflexively at that statement and her breath hitched in indignation; she instantly stilled herself, horror coursing through her veins. Did he know that she was aware of what he was saying? Using all the willpower left in her, she forced her body to stay perfectly still and carefully regulated her breathing. If he knew she was awake, Ginny was sure that Draco would just sneer at her, spit out a few insults, and leave. Her only chance of finding out any sort of truth from him depended on this moment, and she did not want to ruin the opportunity.
But when he paused a long time after that statement, Ginny was almost certain that she was caught. Oh, what she would have given to see his eyes at this moment! That had always been the most expressive part of him, and she was sure that she would know if she was caught if she could just look at him. But, of course, there would be no chance of hearing anything if she suddenly popped her eyes open.
The lull continued, and Ginny finally gave up all hope of trying to eavesdrop on his inner thoughts. After all, how could she hear what he thought when he didn’t verbalize it? From the long silence, she surmised that he was mentally saying good-bye.
Since there was no need for her to listen to him carefully, she turned her thoughts inward. She couldn’t believe that he had described her as a friend. After the way you used me, Malfoy, she was dying to tell him, I feel no more loved than a whore.
Although her sentiments seemed a bit overdramatic, she really did feel that way. As she continued to think about the past few months, she wasn’t even quite sure that they had a friendship, or any sort of relationship. Ginny knew that she had always made sure to include him in everything she did with Blaise, even after they had begun dating. She knew that she still harbored feelings for him, even though she hated herself for falling for someone who obviously didn’t care about her. As she lay there, she remembered his courtesy when they had first met, and how he would regale her with stories from his childhood. Yet, through all of the anecdotes and rare moments of vulnerability, Draco had still been aloof. It was hard to see it during the times that Ginny had spoken with him, but his reticence was still there in the background; she had initially brushed it off as another one of those inexplicable traits that made him a Malfoy, but now she could see that he was hiding his true self the entire time.
To her chagrin, Ginny realized that she had ignored his silence because she had liked it. She had always hated how boring and predictable her family and friends were. The Weasleys all had red hair, were all happy, and all agreed on the same things. Ginny had always thought that she would follow the role that her parents and family had practically assigned for her when she was born. But all of that had changed when Voldemort had possessed her in her first year. Suddenly, she was no longer another Weasley; there was now a darker side to her that no one else in her family had. While her parents and brothers had chosen to overlook the incident and move on with their lives, Ginny knew that she been forever changed that year.
Since then, she had never been able to comfortably fit that role assigned to her; she grew restless carrying the identity that she was burdened with. When she had become friends with Blaise and Draco, she was enthralled by the fact that she never really knew what was going on behind their eyes. All of the people that she had been around her entire life were so open and forthcoming with their feelings; Blaise and Draco were neither of those, so she had been intrigued from the very first time she met them. They also never obligated her to follow any set path. Frankly, if Ginny hadn’t been used and hurt by them, she would be thanking both of them for setting her ablaze again, after all the years she had spent like a guttering candle in the dark.
Ginny’s thoughts were interrupted when Draco whispered, “I hate saying it, Weasley, but I’ll miss you. You changed Blaise and I so much... I don’t think you’re even aware of what you’ve done.” His tone was accusatory, as though blaming her for disrupting years of tradition.
“There’s still so much I don’t understand about what happened. Why did you leave us, right when we needed you the most?”
Because you were using me, you bastard! Ginny wanted to sit up and scream out loud. Instead, she was so happy that she was finally getting a look at the inner workings of his mind that she forced herself to stay still. Apparently, her ruse was still working - he obviously thought she was still asleep.
“What the bloody hell caused you to run straight to Potter?” he continued, still oblivious to her mental reactions. “After all that time you spent with us, you ran straight back to the person that had never cared about you. Merlin, we cared. Blaise was fucking arse over elbow for you, and I- Well, I was just the best friend and bystander, I suppose.” His voice turned glum and reflective.
Another long pause followed the statement, and Ginny was left to contemplate what he had just said. So Blaise really had been in love with her. Yet, if he had cared so much, why did he use her the way he did? He and Draco had been honest enough at the beginning, claiming that they were only pretending to be spies. Even if they had been open with her and told her that they were meeting Voldemort that night, she would have understood and attributed the meeting to their role. Instead, they never felt the need to inform her of the true nature of their meeting, leaving her with so many questions and doubts. Now, from what Draco said, Ginny was beginning to wonder if any of her assumptions were correct.
“Honestly, Ginevra,” Draco broke into her reverie unexpectedly, “everyone thought that we were playing you the entire time, but I wonder if you were the one playing us.”
Ginny mentally dropped her jaw in shock. What in Merlin’s name are you blabbering about?
“Hmm, that would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” Draco mused to himself grimly. “I should have known that you’d never love Blaise after that horrific crush you had on Potter.”
Ginny was still confused by what he meant, yet he persisted with his accusation. “Tell me,” he asked rhetorically, gritting his teeth, “are you satisfied that you finally got Perfect Potter while you could? Does it make you all bloody warm inside to know that you twisted my best mate’s emotions, and mine as well, just so you could catch his attention?”
No! Ginny was dying to open her eyes and tell him. I’d never do that! I forgot about my crush on Harry years ago! I just wanted-
“Honestly, I should accuse you of Blaise’s death. He lost all will to live the moment you left, the moronic fool. And I let him fall for you! I even fell for you, too! Merlin, I was the fool to let my defenses down.”
Ginny’s blood went cold as she heard this, and her hands moved slightly as she thought about how easy it would be to reach out and punch him, claw his face, strangle him, do something. But she held on to the last vestiges of her pride and control and lay still. After all, he would have told her that he fell for her if she was ‘awake,’ would he?
Draco continued in a musing tone, “Surprising, isn’t it, that Father was right about you, Weasley - poor magic trash, indeed. You lot are definitely a disgrace to the Wizarding World if this is how you treat the people you supposedly love. No wonder Percy left when he could.”
He paused for a moment and sighed, muttering under his breath, “After all you’ve put me through, Weasley, I’d have to say that you, in particular, are a disgrace to mankind. I hope I never see you again.” After snorting in disgust, he stalked away from towards the infirmary door.
When Ginny was certain that he had left the Infirmary, she finally let her eyes open. As she stared at the ceiling, she felt tears of rage and frustration well up from within her. How could Draco think that she was the one using them? She’d never lied to them about anything-
At that moment, she was struck by the fact that she had practically led Blaise on when she had been in love with Draco. In a way, she had done what Draco had accused her of doing and played her own games in their friendship. But, for Merlin’s sake, what she did was nothing compared to what they did, was it?
A small part of Ginny was cheering at the fact that Draco had been in love with her, but the rest of her mind knew that it was useless to hope that he felt the same way now. After all of the accusations and insults that he had just hurled at her, she wasn't quite sure that she cared to know if Draco still loved her.
Ginny pulled the sheets up to her chin, staring at the blurry ceiling as she let the tears trickle down her cheeks. Finally, she couldn’t control her emotions any longer; flipping herself over, she buried her face into her pillow as the muffled sounds of her sobs filled the room. She cried out all of her grief, regret, uncertainty, and broken heart into that pillow, not caring one whit if Pomfrey happened to hear her.
Fortunately, she was uninterrupted; when her sobs were reduced to sniffles, she propped her chin on her elbows as she stared out of the window blankly. The dark night was receding, making way for the faint pink and orange tinges that heralded the dawning of a new day. This new day proved to be more heartbreaking than the last, it seemed.
Eventually, she dropped her head onto her pillow and fell into an exhausted sleep.
N E X T:
|| chapter 20 ||