peki wrote 'And With My Childhood's Faith' for sue_bridehead
Title: And With My Childhood’s Faith (Part 3)
Author: peki
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Umm, all six books?
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance.
Author's Notes: A huge ‘thank you’ to my wonderful beta for being so incredibly patient when the fic kept getting longer and I messed up all the commas :-D You rock.
The title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet #43.
Beta: dragonlilleth
( Part 1 )
( Part 2 )
But what - or rather, who - she saw when she came upstairs from the dungeons made her breath hitch in her throat.
The first morning light was filtering through the open entrance door, and a small, exhausted group of people was climbing up the stairs. Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, all colour draining from her face.
Harry Potter had returned to them. And he had brought a prisoner.
“Let go of me, Potter,” Narcissa Malfoy hissed as Harry led her inside followed by Ron and Hermione. “This is disgraceful…how dare you--”
“Oh, shut up already,” Harry snarled. He was thin and looked slightly weatherworn. His hair was even more mussed than usual, and his clothes were messy and sprinkled with dirt. Ron and Hermione looked just as shabby, but they were alive and healthy, and the surge of hope, of happiness, was so sharp that for a moment, Ginny felt faint with it.
“Harry?” she gasped. “Ron?”
“Ginny!” With his long legs, Ron reached her first. He folded up his lanky frame to hug her hard, and she squeezed him with no less desperation. “God, it’s good to be back here.”
“It’s so wonderful to see you!” she sobbed out, weak with relief. When he let her go, she stumbled forward to fall into Hermione’s arms, who hugged her just as tightly as her brother had. Then, she went over to Harry, who was still standing with his hand clamped around Mrs Malfoy’s arm, staring at her wondrously as if she was the best thing he had seen in a long time.
Ginny took a moment to imagine how he’d look at her if he knew whose bed she had just crawled out of and blushed guiltily. “Hello Harry,” she said quietly, feeling flustered and overwhelmed.
Oblivious to her thoughts, he smiled. “Hello Ginny.” He let go of his captive abruptly to reach out and hug her. She stiffened, fearing that he’d try to kiss her and she’d have to dodge his attempt, but then he let her go and said, “It’s good to see you.” He looked so sincere and happy that she wanted to burst into tears. But was it her fault that things had happened while he’d been gone? It was not like she’d meant to fall for…
“Reunion. How touching,” Mrs Malfoy said dryly.
Ginny glanced at her, but much as she wanted to despise the woman, all she could think about when she looked at her was how happy Draco would be. She’d been reunited with her friends and brother today and she knew what it felt like, the relief. She wanted him to share in that. “So what’s she doing here?” she asked curiously, glad to be able to avert Harry’s attention from herself.
“We’ve been dragging her around for days,” Ron huffed. “She had the last…something we needed.”
Puzzled, Ginny looked at him, then back at Narcissa Malfoy. Her lips were clenched in a thin line and she looked just as haggard and dirty as the rest of them. Surely she hated this. Ginny grinned, suddenly feeling really cheerful. “She had the last what?”
“Harry, do you think we can…?” Hermione started hesitantly.
“Not yet,” he said firmly, shaking his head, and Ginny looked up at him, in wonder at what he’d become. A leader, so authoritative…they’d always looked to him when it came to important decisions. It came with the baggage of his past, his role in the war… But now, it was different. He was different. “It’s not over yet, and we’re not risking it if it’s not absolutely necessary. Not with Ginny.”
Ginny felt her stomach tighten with a hot rush of anger, but she clenched her fists at her sides and tried to suppress it. They had shut her out of their quest, whatever it was, more than a year ago. It didn’t matter any more now than it had then. “All right. So she was hiding something you wanted, but how did she end up here?”
“Well, we couldn’t risk her running to Voldemort after we got what we wanted, could we? So we brought her along.” Hermione looked thoughtful.
“And she was real helpful,” Ron said mockingly. “Hexed two Death Eaters who tried to ambush us, imagine that.”
“I’ve been telling you they’re after me, too,” Mrs Malfoy said scathingly. “Ever since my son disappeared--”
“Well, forgive us,” Ron snorted. “We don’t even know if that’s true, if Malfoy wasn’t working for Voldemort all this time--”
“He isn’t,” Ginny interrupted.
They all looked at her, surprised. Mrs Malfoy’s eyes were glittering with an unholy light, as if all hope and affection had long since died away inside her. “You know about Draco’s whereabouts?” she demanded.
Did she ever. Ginny grinned. “Well--”
“Mother?”
As one, they turned towards the voice. Draco stood rooted to the spot at the other end of the hall, by the doorway, as if he didn’t dare move for fear that the scene in front of him would vanish and turn out to be a dream. His chin was wobbling strangely.
“Draco?” Mrs Malfoy said in a high-pitched voice that sounded completely unlike her.
He shuddered as if a huge weight had just fallen off him, then bolted from the spot and flew through the hall. His mother met him halfway, and then they were embracing tightly, her thin hands clutching fiercely at his shoulders. “Oh, Draco…” The rest of her words were indiscernible, whispered into his ear as she held him.
Ginny saw his shoulders tremble, his hands move unsteadily over his mother’s back and, at that moment, she felt just as joyful for him as if her own mother had come to Hogwarts. She so wanted him to be happy. He needed something to be happy about, so he would want to live.
She looked cautiously at her friends. Ron, Hermione and Harry were watching the Malfoys with expressions of shock and revulsion. “What is he doing here?” Harry asked in a tight, strangled voice.
“He’s been here since the beginning of the school year,” Ginny told them carefully. “He’s kind of a prisoner, but he goes to classes with the rest of us--”
“Great,” Harry said. He sounded bitter and jealous. “Malfoy gets to study here again. Great.”
“McGonagall’s orders,” Ginny said firmly.
Ron furrowed his brow. “And you’re doing…what, exactly?”
“I’m his guard.” Ginny was proud that she succeeded in keeping down her blush. She was his guard, kind of his friend, definitely his lover…God, how would she ever explain this to anyone?
Luckily, further nosy questions were prevented by Professor McGonagall, who hurried towards them just then, flanked by two Aurors Ginny didn’t know. “Mr Potter! At last, oh thank goodness! Miss Granger, Mr Weasley…” She wrung her hands, then, apparently deciding to forgo decorum, hugged Harry.
Harry looked startled. “Er, hello, Professor.” He extricated himself carefully and gestured towards Draco and his mum. “I’ve brought a prisoner. Do you have a dungeon where we can chain her up or something? And then we need to tell you a few things.”
McGonagall peered at Narcissa anxiously. “Oh dear, how did this come about? Well, to my office, you three, I want to hear everything. Miss Weasley, take Mrs Malfoy down to Slytherin for now please, and make sure she stays there. Mr Malfoy, go have breakfast.”
“But--” Draco started defiantly, but McGonagall cut him off with a determined gesture.
“No buts,” she decreed, looking harassed. “There will be no fuss. Have breakfast. Mrs Malfoy, I want to hear your story before I allow you to be alone with your son, and I expect full cooperation or I’ll ask Alastor Moody to arrange a cell in Azkaban for you.”
Narcissa let go of her son and inclined her head stiffly. “It’s all right, Draco, go.”
He went, looking mutinous. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Ginny whispered as he passed her. “Don’t worry.” He barely glanced at her, but his dark scowl eased somewhat.
Relieved, Ginny jerked her head towards the entrance to the dungeons. “Let’s go.”
Mrs Malfoy walked ahead of her, her nose in the air, her muddied robes billowing dramatically. Ginny blinked. She’d always assumed Draco imitated his father when he flounced about like that.
“I would like a bath and some new clothes,” Narcissa Malfoy remarked as they walked, as if Ginny was some sort of servant she expected to jump at her every wish.
Ginny snorted. “Later.”
“Hmph.” Mrs Malfoy’s face became sly. “I saw you coming up from the dungeons when we arrived.”
Ginny felt her face grow hot and walked more quickly so all Mrs Malfoy could see was the back of her head. “So? I patrolled the corridors.”
“Really.” Now there was a definite vicious edge to her voice. “Have you and Draco--”
“Here we are,” Ginny snapped. Was she that obvious? Did her face give her away? Her eyes? Her cheeks scarlet with embarrassment, she made a big show of searching for the entrance to the common room. “‘Parseltongue’…’Parseltongue’…where the bloody hell is it again…”
Muttering under her breath, she pounded her fists against the stone wall for a full five minutes until apparently, Mrs Malfoy had had enough.
“It’s ten feet to the left.”
Ginny turned around and glared. “Why couldn’t you have said so earlier?”
Mrs Malfoy’s lips twitched. “It was so much more entertaining this way.”
She was wicked and awful. Draco really had gotten it from her. “‘Parseltongue’,” Ginny said to the stretch of wall that the older witch had indicated, and the hidden door swung open at last. Mrs Malfoy breezed past her without another word.
Following, Ginny made a face at her back. “Sit down.” She gestured at a chair.
“I beg your pardon?” the older witch said irritably.
“Please sit down,” Ginny sighed, exasperated. Mrs Malfoy’s bum had hardly touched the chair when Ginny flicked her wand, feeling wicked but knowing full well that she wouldn’t manage to bind a Malfoy to a chair unless she caught them by surprise. With a crack, the chair’s legs were rooted to the floor (quite literally), and Mrs Malfoy’s backside, in turn, got stuck to the chair.
“How dare you!”
“Expelliarmus,” Ginny finished hastily, catching the other’s slim wand as it flew towards her. “I’m sorry, but Professor McGonagall said to make sure you don’t leave.”
For a moment, Narcissa Malfoy looked like she’d throw a fit, but then she reined in her angry expression and looked away haughtily. “Well. Can I get a cup of tea and some food, at least?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ginny said, relieved that the other woman wasn’t going to make a fuss. She tucked the wand away safely in the inside pocket of her robes. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she promised, even though she had no reason to tell Mrs Malfoy anything. She thought of Draco and decided to be nice. “How do you like your toast?”
There was a hint of surprise in Narcissa’s searching gaze. “With marmalade,” she said at length. “Thank you.”
“All right,” Ginny nodded and escaped before she could be saddled with more requests. Besides, she wanted to know what was going on upstairs, and surely Draco must be getting restless.
And sure enough, by the time she joined him at the breakfast table, he’d already made a big mess of milk and crumbs. His movements were jittery and hectic as he reached for the teapot. Luckily, he was the only person there so far, so when he spilled the tea his swearing went unheard, except by Ginny.
“Hey,” she said, straddling the bench close beside him. She took the pot away from him and poured them each a cup. “Your mother’s fine for now. How are you?”
He shrugged edgily. “I don’t know. It’s all a bit…”
“…Much?” she smiled, patting his arm. “Yeah, I know.” Even if they’d only made love the night before, she would be pretty excitable this morning. Add to that the sudden, unexpected return of his mother and Ron, Harry and Hermione, and she was so restless that she could hardly swallow down her mouthful of tea. “Are you happy, though?”
Snorting, he moved away from her a bit so their bodies didn’t touch. Ginny frowned at that. “Happy that my mum’s here, yes.” He chewed very hard on a piece of toast. “Not so much that Potter is back, though,” he continued sullenly.
She felt a weird little tug at her insides as she watched him choke down his breakfast unenthusiastically. He was hunched over, staring at his plate and didn’t look at all like his usual boisterous self. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, scooting a little closer to him again.
But somehow, that triggered his ire. “Nothing,” he snapped, in a tone she hadn’t heard in a long time. He sounded scathing and disdainful, as if he really wanted to hurt her.
And he succeeded. After what they’d done not six hours ago, she couldn’t bear this. “What’s wrong with you?” she repeated loudly, clutching his arm so he couldn’t move away even further.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he insisted harshly, pulling away.
She fell forward and hit her elbow on the edge of the table. The pain shot up her arm and her eyes watered. “Ow, you bastard.”
He winced, but when her eyes flew up to meet his, she saw that his lips were twisting with a vicious smirk. “Leave me alone, Weasley.”
She stared at him, stunned, unsure what to say. She had thought he had changed, but now he seemed to have forgotten every last one of the quiet, tender moments they had had together. He couldn’t do this. Not after they had trusted each other and it had been so beautiful. It would be too cruel, even for him. “My name is Ginny,” she forced out through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes as she said the words. “And you’re going to use it, Draco.”
His breath was coming in rapid puffs, and his fists clenched and unclenched convulsively as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. “I hardly think I’ll have much opportunity,” he finally said flatly, “now that your boyfriend’s back.”
Her stomach lurched. She stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. No. This was just…it was ridiculous. She was so far beyond that, beyond anything she’d had with Harry, it felt like it had been another life. Which was true, really. He had to know that. “You’re joking, right?” she sobbed out, the tears falling at last with the enormous wave of her relief.
He looked startled, and she realised he’d never seen her cry. He didn’t seem to like it much. “Stop,” he said warily, his lip curling with displeasure.
Ginny made a noise that was half sob, half laugh. “No,” she cried defiantly. “You idiot! I always knew you were just jealous of Harry, the way you were carrying on, but this, this--”
“I’m not jealous,” he shot back indignantly. “I’m going to die anyway, so it’s not like this is going to last--”
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and kissed him. She had to; it was either that or strangle him. And weirdly enough, for reasons she couldn’t fathom at that moment, she wanted to keep him around for a while yet.
“No dying. No giving up,” she told him fiercely when they broke apart. She caressed his pale cheeks with her fingertips.
He huffed. “I just thought you and Potter… Now that he’s back--”
“Well, you thought wrong!”
The statement hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. His look was full of doubts. “Really.”
“Yes, really.” She blushed that colour he found so amusing on her, and his lips twitched a bit. “I like you,” she said defiantly, her face aflame. It was strange to admit it and even stranger to realise that it was very, very true.
“Well,” he said after a while. He sounded like he had no idea how to deal with declarations of affection, no matter how warped and weird they were. He looked around at the table, at his hands, everywhere but her. “I think I feel like a cup of coffee.”
He inched a bit closer on the bench and, with a giggle, she moved to sit closely by his side, her arm pressed against his, tugging at his sleeve until he yielded and let her hold his hand. He was cold even though the fires in the Hall’s many grates were blazing. She rubbed his frozen fingers so they’d warm up. “Good idea,” she agreed.
But he made no move to summon one of the elves that cooked up their breakfast. “I’m…” He squinted with irritation. “I don’t want you to go back to Potter. I want to keep you,” he finally bit out. He sighed softly on the last word, as if it had taken great effort to spit out. “But I’m still going to die.”
“Hush,” she told him. “I don’t want to hear you say that again or I’ll hurt you. You know I can and I will.”
But where that statement would’ve triggered mockery on any other day, it didn’t dispel his gloominess just then. “Listen.” He swallowed hard. “I know you think I just say that because…well, because it sounds dramatic, but I mean it.”
Ginny felt a prickle of unease race over her skin. He had never talked to her like this, so seriously. The thing with Draco was that he never really meant to follow through on anything he said. He was too much a Slytherin to be nailed down by such pesky things as promises, and so his sombre sincerity unsettled her all the more now. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
He took a deep breath. “It’s not just that He threatened to kill me…He’d kill anyone who’s in his way, after all. But my aunt once told me that if I failed…if I didn’t do His bidding to the last, that she was going to hunt me down and turn my insides out. And if you’re too close to me when she finds me, she’ll do it to you too, and to my mum, her own sister--”
“Shut up!” Ginny snapped, unable to stand this any longer. “I can’t, I just, oh God, Draco, don’t think of that! You’re going to go mad!” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “You have to make yourself believe that there’s hope. Lots of good people are fighting on our side--”
“They’re not on my side,” he said in a low voice. Absently, he flicked his wand, and the tea spills dried, the crumbs vanished, their plates and cups straightened and arranged themselves neatly. She watched him, wondering at this meticulous neatness. “They don’t care about me or anything that’s important to me. Why should I trust anyone?”
Ginny breathed deeply, reassured by his irritation. She could deal with this. It was better than fear or despair. “You can trust me,” she told him earnestly.
He snorted, and the sound was bitter and slightly cruel. “What good will that do?”
“You’ll feel better,” she flung back at him. “And if you die, at least you’ll know that you were with someone who cared about you. If you let yourself believe it.”
He was silent for a long time, his harsh breaths the only sound in the silent hall. Then, he said, “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was flat and emotionless. “We’ll die here, and the sooner it happens, the better. I can’t stand the wait.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know how to make him understand that he wasn’t alone and that she wouldn’t stop hoping, and if she had to, she would hope enough for both of them.
But he sounded so…broken. Like he really believed what he said and nothing she did would make a difference. She tugged at his arm, but he sat rigid and straight, staring at the far wall. She peered at him unhappily. “Look at me,” she demanded, shaking his arm a bit. “The sooner we die, the better? Hell, no. I still have plans for you. For us. Why can’t you just adapt, dammit? Isn’t that what Slytherins do? Whatever it takes?”
His face fell. He turned his head towards her at last, and she saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and gleaming wetly. “Ginny…”
The way he said her name almost brought her to tears again. It sounded urgent and desperate, as if he was reaching for her from the bottom of a dark pit, pleading with her to help him find his way out.
“We’ll be fine,” she whispered, cradling one of his fists in her smaller hands. “I’m here, don’t worry.”
He was gasping for breath as if the air was being choked out of him. “Run away with me. I have money abroad, unplottable houses, we could disappear where no one could ever find us again--”
“No,” she said immediately. “It’s time to be brave and fight.”
“Bravery is for Gryffindors,” he snorted bitterly. He shook her off brusquely, and when she reached out, he swatted her hands away.
She dropped them to her lap, twisting her fingers in agitation. “Our side isn’t going to win if we don’t all do our part.”
“Our side?” He shook his head. “We’re not on the same side.”
“Oh yes we are,” she retorted. “This became our side when you first kissed me, you git.” She grasped his shoulder to turn him around and put both her hands on his chest. “I don’t snog evil people, so clearly, you’re on my side.”
“Or you’re on mine, has that occurred to you?” he asked.
“Same difference,” she replied with a lofty smile. “We both want to survive, right?”
“But even if we do, I don’t think my mum and I can get through this all right, anyway,” he said glumly. “We’ve already lost.”
“Oh, Draco…” Ginny didn’t know whether to laugh or scream or both. His pessimism was so vitriolic it should’ve poisoned him years ago, or at least made him shrivel up like the grumpy old man he was inside. “No, you haven’t. It’ll be all right.”
His scowl eased a bit at her fierce, determined tone. “How would you even know what ‘all right’ means to us?”
She shrugged. “Well, you’ll still have your big fancy house, and your money, and you’ll always be an annoying prat…”
He seemed torn between grinning and sneering, which made for a very strange expression. Smiling, Ginny touched his pointy chin with one finger, tracing his jaw gently. “Come on. We’ll stay and fight, and we’ll live, and then--”
She broke off, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure what would happen then. She had claimed to have plans, but they hadn’t really developed yet beyond a vague desire to snog him. A lot. And make him laugh a little. She liked it when he laughed and was happy, as he’d been that morning when they’d lain in bed together. Perhaps they should spend a few months or so in bed after the final battle, she thought giddily. She liked that idea.
Draco looked at her expectantly. “What then?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “We can do whatever we want.” Her mind was all too ready to supply her with mental images of what that could be, and she blushed.
He smiled slowly, as if he could read her thoughts. His hands sneaked up her sides to her waist. “Well, I suppose--”
“Breakfast! Oh God, I’m starving!”
At Ron’s voice, they both dropped their hands, startled, and instinctively moved further apart even though Ginny berated herself for it. They had nothing to be ashamed of. The others might not like him, but she knew better, and she was old enough to make her own decisions.
But then she looked around, saw Harry, and her heart clenched painfully. She couldn’t just spring something like this on him. Who knew what he was expecting? At the very least, he deserved a private talk.
Elbowing Draco lightly, she gave him a warning look, and though his lips curled with a sneer and he seemed like he would very much like to say something mean and hurtful, he nodded once and grabbed another piece of toast, busying himself with spreading butter on it unevenly.
“Ahh! Right!” Ginny said to him, slapping her forehead as she suddenly remembered something. “Your mother wanted breakfast!”
“Not now,” Ron said dismissively, already chewing a croissant before he had even sat down. “McGonagall just sent the Aurors to bring her up for interrogation. She’ll be a while, probably.”
Hermione sat down beside him gingerly, giving Ginny, Draco, and the single table a quizzical look. “What happened to the house tables?”
“Not enough students left,” Ginny replied, shrugging. She noticed the way that Ron and Hermione’s arms rubbed against each other as they filled their plates with toast and eggs. They were obviously comfortable sharing each other’s space. About time.
She glanced at Harry, who still stood at the end of the table, looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.
“No house tables,” Ron grumbled through a mouthful of bacon. “That’s weird.”
“It is,” Hermione said crisply. She was studying the blond and the redhead across from her with a tight expression. “But then, it’s what the Sorting Hat has been advising.”
Ginny fought the urge to squirm under her friend’s penetrating gaze. “It’s been working out quite well.” She chanced a look at Draco, who was still buttering the slice of toast. It crumbled under the forceful strokes of the knife. “Right?” she asked in an attempt to make him join in the conversation.
Harry still hadn’t sat down. His posture was unnerving. Ginny bit back a remark. For the first time, she understood why Draco had always been so irritated by him.
“Hmph,” Draco muttered, beside her. “If you pass your Potions NEWT, it’s just because I saved your piss-poor concoctions.”
He didn’t sound nice. He sounded quite like he always had, actually, mean and ill-tempered, but something about the way his lips curled upwards when he had finished and almost-smiled at her must’ve given him away.
Ron dropped his fork. Hermione’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. At the end of the table, Harry finally sat down, hard. All three of them stared at Ginny and Draco, shocked.
“What?” Ginny asked, with one last weak attempt at nonchalance. It didn’t work. Her face went bright red, redder than the fried tomatoes on Ron’s plate.
“What’s going on?” her brother asked, his eyes flickering back and forth between the pair across from him. His voice was high-pitched and panicked. “Ginny…”
Hermione seemed to catch herself first. She closed her mouth and nudged Ron slightly with her elbow. “Now is not the time, Ron.” She gave Ginny a look that seemed to demand ‘Details. Later,’ then turned to Harry.
He was scowling and the gaze that he had fixed on Draco was so full of hatred that he hardly looked like himself any more. Ginny started. Their journey, the fight - they had changed him. Made him tougher. She hardly knew this man who was sitting opposite her now, his eyes hard and merciless.
“Harry…” Hermione said gently, but he shook his head.
“I can’t believe I felt sorry for you once,” he ground out, still fixating Draco. “I can’t believe I thought you deserved our pity, when you were here all this time--”
“Well, I don’t want your pity, Potter,” Draco sneered. “I don’t need--”
“Enough!” Hermione interrupted, so forcefully that even Draco shut up. Her jaw was set tensely. “We don’t have time for this. We need to figure out how to open this thing.”
She shook her sleeve and something clattered on the table, a round, large silver locket. Its appearance seemed to refocus Ron and Harry’s attention.
“Right,” Harry said curtly, tearing his eyes away from Ginny and Draco. “And quick. The Death Eaters will know we’re here, by now. I want to crack this and be gone before they get close enough to endanger anyone.”
“What is it?” Ginny asked curiously, unable to resist. Something about the locket was strangely compelling, almost as if it was whispering to her with a voice of its own. She peered at it closely.
“A locket,” Hermione told her sternly, in a tone of voice that allowed no further questions. “We came here to find a way to open it, and--”
“Give it to me. I can crack any lock.”
They all jumped at Draco’s voice. When Ginny turned to him, she saw that he was eyeing the locket too as if he felt its strange lure. He was absently rubbing at his arm.
“No,” Ron said flatly. “Not you. You’re one of them.”
Draco flinched. “I’m--”
“Ron,” Ginny interrupted before he could fire up. She felt herself blush again but bravely held her brother’s angry gaze. “No matter what you think of him right now, I guarantee you that’s not true. He’s with us.” And Draco better prove her right. She felt his eyes on her and knew that he was dying to protest. “Believe me.”
Ron’s face was turning a lovely shade of puce. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “Oh, no… Hermione…”
Hermione stared at Ginny for a few long moments, then suddenly seemed to make up her mind. “We’ve tried everything we know,” she said. “We might as well try this.” Her hard, determined look eased a bit when she glanced at Harry. “What do you say?”
Harry stared at Draco. Draco stared back unblinkingly. When Harry tossed the locket across the table, he caught it, looking startled. “You have an hour,” Harry announced flatly. “If you don’t have a clue how to open it then, we’ll think of something else.”
And so it was that Ginny was stuck with the three of them while Draco locked himself inside an empty classroom, demanding that he be left alone.
Ginny felt her brother’s eyes on her, drilling into her back as the four of them went up to Gryffindor together. Her heart pounded inside her chest. No matter what sort of dangerous task the three were occupied with, surely Ron would find a moment to ask nosy questions or yell at her or both.
And sure enough, when Harry excused himself to stalk off to the bathroom, looking angry and unhappy, Ron rounded on his sister. “What’s going on?” he hissed, his face shining bright and red. “Between you and Malfoy?”
Hermione was standing by the fire, warming her hands, and even though she pretended like she wasn’t listening, Ginny was sure that she heard every word and that she’d take Ron’s side if an argument broke out. She didn’t want that. She was so happy that they were back… But then, she also didn’t want to betray Draco. He needed her more than Ron or Hermione or even Harry.
“It’s none of your business, Ron,” she answered, gently but firmly. “He’s changed.”
“No he’s not!” he protested. “That’s Malfoy we’re talking about!”
“How would you even know?” she retorted. “You weren’t here. I was. It’s been rough, biding our time here, waiting for doom to come to us - yes, I know what you’ve done must’ve been really dangerous, and I’m so glad you’re back now,” she insisted when he opened his mouth to say something. “But it’s not easy, being left behind like this.”
That made him forget anything he’d been meaning to say. Ron looked at her, stunned, and Hermione turned around too, staring at her with a crease between her brows. “Ginny, we didn’t leave you behind--”
“What else would you call it?” she asked, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. But don’t think you know what’s right for me after you’ve been gone all this time. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“But…” Ron gestured wildly. “Malfoy!”
“Do you really think now is the time for this discussion?” When he didn’t answer, Ginny nodded. “Right. Come on, Ron, give me a hug and don’t be angry,” she said pleadingly. They’d always been so close - they weren’t far apart in age, and they had always been the babies of the family. She couldn’t bear the thought that he’d look at her differently now.
He huffed but did put his arms around her awkwardly. “I’m worried about you,” he said, close to her ear. “That’s all, Ginny.”
“I know,” she said gruffly. “Thanks, Ron, but it’s not necessary.” She sighed deeply when he released her. “Shouldn’t we be more worried about the battle? Draco keeps saying that we’re all going to die.”
“I never liked Malfoy’s attitude,” Ron growled. “I’m not going to die, not when Hermione and I--” He broke off, flushing an even darker shade of red.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Ron.”
Ginny looked back and forth between them, raising a brow. “Yes?” she prompted excitedly. “What about you and Hermione?”
“We’re, uh, sort of together now,” he muttered, looking down at his oversized feet.
“What do you mean, sort of?” Hermione said testily. “We are together, and we’re not going to die.”
Ginny laughed. It was nice to know that good things happened, happy things, even in a time like this. “That’s great,” she said sincerely. “About time, too.”
“Yes,” Ron admitted, sounding smug and pleased. “It was getting a bit silly, the way we were going on.”
“It was getting silly?” Ginny snorted. “It’s been silly for a long time.”
“We were worried what’d happen, though - if it’d affect what we were doing, and what Harry would think…” Hermione said hesitantly. She and Ron glanced at each other. “It’s been lonely, for him,” she told Ginny carefully.
“And he thinks…er, Ginny,” Ron continued, “I think he thinks that when this is over, you’ll be…you know…”
“Waiting for him?” she sighed. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going to happen then, but you’ll have to let me figure that out by myself. I’ll talk to Harry.” Not that she was looking forward to that conversation. She felt a pang of guilt. She had used to miss him so much, more than her brother even, and now…now that had just sort of faded away, and he was only a distant figure at the edge of her awareness.
“Malfoy,” Ron muttered under his breath, but Hermione nudged him and he didn’t say anything else. For now, a grudging truce and silence had to be good enough, Ginny decided.
“All right. Can I help you with something?” After all, if Draco was helping them, she should, too.
“There’s not really much we can do,” Hermione said. She looked decidedly unhappy that even her industriousness had reached its limit at last. “Not until we know how to open that locket.”
“And don’t you have classes?” Ron put in not-so-helpfully.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to class while you’re here, doing things that are much more important--”
“You should. It’s better if you don’t get involved in any of this.”
She winced when she heard Harry’s voice, but when she turned around to face him, her jaw was set determinedly. His hair was wet and sticking up, and he looked much better now that he was clean. His face was very serious, though. “I already am,” she told him. “We all are. We’ll all have to fight, when the end comes--”
“Not if I can help it,” he said curtly. “We only came here to find out more about the locket. When we’re done, we’re leaving, and the Death Eaters will come after us.”
Ginny’s heart clenched painfully. “You can’t end this on your own, Harry.”
His green eyes sparked. “I’ll have to, won’t I?” he asked angrily. “When even you have gone and--”
“Ahhh!”
The Fat Lady’s shrill cry startled them all. Even though the portrait hole was closed, they could hear her shrieking through the stone wall. “Password! Password! No entering without the…” There was another cry. “I say, young man! That was just rude!”
Ginny could picture vividly just what was going on outside. Before the others could react, she hurried to the entrance and pushed it open.
Draco’s fist hung in mid-air. He dropped it when he saw her. “Finally. That fat bitch didn’t let me in.”
“The password is ‘Lion’s Den’,” she said, dragging him inside. “Don’t insult the Fat Lady.”
“What do you mean, ‘fat’?” came from the other side of the door, but Ginny closed it quickly.
Before they went into the common room, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Be nice,” she whispered, caressing him to cushion the stern order. “My brother’s already adapting, and Harry…he’s under a lot of stress. Please.”
He squinted irritably. “And we’re not? All of us?”
In spite of herself, Ginny grinned. “It’s not quite the same, love,” she murmured, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank God it’s not. Please be good.”
He grumbled, but pulled her close to kiss her properly. And even though the situation was tense and serious, she couldn’t help the shiver of pleasure that raced down her spine. Her skin tingled with his touch. The night’s excitement hadn’t quite ebbed away yet. Ginny pulled back, happy that it hadn’t. They needed something pleasant to get them through this stressful day.
“We should never have gotten up,” he muttered against her lips, but then released her reluctantly.
Together, they went up into the common room. Ron and Harry scowled at Draco when they entered, but Hermione, at least, looked determined to focus on what was important.
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What did you find?” She sounded hesitant, like she didn’t expect too much from him.
Draco shrugged. “Some good news, and some bad news.”
The three of them looked surprised. Ron’s face was doubtful, Hermione’s anxious, and Harry’s serious and glum. “Good news first,” he commanded.
“I’ve figured it out,” Draco said proudly.
Hermione made a squeaky, shocked little noise. “Really?”
“Yes. Bad news - whoever put the protection charms on this locket reinforced them with a blood seal.” Shrugging, he tossed it at Harry, who caught it.
“You mean the key to the locket is…that person’s blood?” Hermione asked quickly.
“Ew!” Ron muttered.
“Or that of a relative, if they’re not too far removed in the bloodline,” Draco said, giving Hermione an unfriendly look. “That’s what blood seal means, Granger.”
There was a pause in which Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other silently, seeming to debate something without even speaking. Ginny watched them quizzically, feeling very excluded, very out of place once again. She stepped closer to Draco so her shoulder was pressed against his arm and was surprised to feel his hand move over the small of her back, coming to rest on her hip. She wouldn’t have thought he liked casual displays of affection, but then, he probably wanted to stake his claim. She rolled her eyes but didn’t move his hand. He was squeezing the fleshy curve of her hip, and it felt nice.
“Harry…” Hermione said after a few minutes of meaningful looks, “I think we need to take the risk and tell them now.”
Risk! Ginny opened her mouth, ready to reply indignantly, but then Harry nodded curtly and tossed the locket back at Draco. He caught it, surprised. “What am I supposed to do with it, Potter?”
“Regulus Black put the seal on it,” Harry said.
“…we think!” Hermione interjected.
“So open it,” Harry finished. “You’re half a Black, right?”
“Yes, but…” Draco looked down at the locket. “What is it?” he asked warily.
Hermione took a deep breath. “It is a Horcrux,” she explained. “A piece of Voldemort’s soul. We can’t kill him unless all the Horcruxes are destroyed first. There were six. This is the last one.”
Ginny heard Draco inhale sharply. Suddenly he was holding the locket as if it was white-hot. “A piece of the Dark Lord’s soul?” he snapped, sounding panicked. “I’m not opening that! Are you crazy? Who knows what it’ll do--”
“We know what it’ll do,” Ron said, miffed that he had to explain this to Draco. He eyed the hand on Ginny’s hip. “It’ll release that bit of him that’s trapped inside, and we’ll kill it. It’s what we’ve been doing for a year and a half. Malfoy, let go of my sister!”
Ginny winced. “Ron--” she started, at the same time that Draco said,
“Well, Weasley, we--”
“Now’s not the time,” Ginny interrupted forcefully, elbowing him in the ribs.
He jumped, and the locket clattered loudly on the floor as he dropped it. Again, that captured everyone’s attention.
“Right,” Harry said tightly, a deep crease between his brows. He was looking very hard at the locket, not sparing Ginny a single glance. “Hermione, prepare the wards. He’ll open it or we’ll make his mother do it instead.”
“Or Ron or I could try,” Ginny threw in, glancing at Draco’s profile. He looked like he’d rather not be involved in this. “We’re related to the Blacks too, and--”
“No,” Draco snapped. The hand on her hip tightened to the point of pain. “You’re not opening that thing. It’s dangerous.” He was looking at her fiercely, and Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. He was actually worried for her. “And besides, I’m almost sure you’re too far removed in the bloodline. I don’t even know if it’d work if I tried to open it. He might have meant for his brother to find that thing.”
“He meant to destroy it,” Harry said pensively. “And then he didn’t have the time, or the nerve, so he hid it in Grimmauld Place, for Sirius to find--”
“And then Dung came across it,” Ron finished darkly. “And sold it to the enemy. That bloody idiot, the next time I see him, I’ll--”
“Ron. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Harry, we could also ask Tonks--” Hermione started tentatively, but he shook his head.
“We’re not putting Tonks at risk. Malfoy will do it.”
“So you admit there is a risk,” Draco sneered.
“Of course there’s a risk, Malfoy,” Harry shot back. “It’s Voldemort’s soul, what do you expect? But you’ve got the chance to do something right for a change…not that you deserve it, but here’s something that Ron or Hermione or I can’t do, but you can - don’t you love that? So do it already.”
They glared at each other until Ginny very deliberately put her hand on Draco’s arm and shook him gently. “He’s right, you know,” she told him quietly.
Draco huffed, but Accioed the locket. “Oh, I just know I’m going to regret this,” he muttered. “What do I do?”
“How do you open it?” Hermione’s tone was brisk and businesslike all of a sudden. She had taken off her robe and rolled up her sleeves and was currently thumbing through a large book full of runes and symbols.
“Say the incantation and drip a little blood on it,” he said. “It’s easy, once you know how.”
Hermione flushed at this insult to her intelligence, and Ginny wondered for how long she’d been trying to open the locket now. “Well, we draw up this sigil,” she showed them a worn page that had a star-shaped symbol on it, “put the locket in the middle, and when it’s opened, we activate the spell - the spirit is contained within a force field, and then we destroy it.”
“And that works?” Ginny asked doubtfully. “Every time?”
Hermione looked a bit sheepish. “Well, to be honest, once it kind of got away, and--”
“There’s no time for this,” Harry interrupted. “Voldemort knows we’re working on one of the last Horcruxes - the Death Eaters will be here soon and they’ll do anything to stop us. But as soon as it’s destroyed, we can attack him.”
“Great plan,” Draco snorted.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron shouted. “And Ginny, let go of him already.”
“No, Ron,” she shouted back. “Just get the bloody hell over it, and--”
“What in the world is going on? Miss Weasley, Mr Malfoy, why aren’t you in class?” Professor McGonagall suddenly stood in the common room as if she’d materialised out of nowhere. She was glaring at the lot of them over the edge of her glasses.
Narcissa Malfoy stood behind her in the doorway, looking around with the same expression of disdain that Draco had worn the first time Ginny had brought him into Gryffindor Tower. Finally, she caught her son’s eyes, sighed softly and shrugged. Ginny noticed that she was now wearing a set of the magical cuffs that Draco also had around his wrists. So she was here to stay, then. He would like that.
“We’re helping,” Ginny told the Headmistress quickly. “We were just discussing--”
“Our next steps,” Harry interrupted swiftly.
Ginny closed her mouth, astonished. So apparently, they didn’t even want McGonagall to know about that Horcrux thing. They really had kept it secret, just between them. She felt a bit better about it, now that she knew that.
“And you need Mr Malfoy’s help?” McGonagall asked with no small degree of surprise.
“Yes,” Ron grumbled, glaring fiercely.
“And we need an empty dungeon, Professor, far away from the students,” Hermione put in.
The Headmistress sighed. “I really wish you’d tell me what’s going on.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But we’ve been over that. All right. I do hope Albus knew what he was doing when he advised you to be so secretive, Mr Potter. Ask Mr Filch to take you down to the empty dungeons in the eastern wing. The students are in class. Will they be safe enough there?”
Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then at Draco. They seemed to have one of their weird silent conversations. Then, Harry said, “Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Miss Weasley, if you’re not needed--”
“I’m not going to class,” Ginny insisted stubbornly.
“Ginny, we need to prepare, anyway,” Hermione told her. “Till we’re done, you can--”
“…Finally get me some breakfast,” Mrs Malfoy interjected sharply. “I may be a prisoner, but--”
“All right! All right,” McGonagall snapped, looking harassed. The two women glared at each other, and Ginny thought with some amusement that no love seemed to be lost between them. She wondered why that was. Perhaps Mr and Mrs Malfoy had sneaked around a lot when they’d been students. “Miss Weasley, could you please…?”
“And give back my wand, please,” Narcissa demanded. “Draco, come along too, I need to talk to you.”
And she swept out regally, clearly expecting her son and Ginny to follow like stupid puppies.
Shrugging, Ginny shot her stunned friends an apologetic look. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“So what did you tell McGonagall?” Draco asked his mother after she had finally gotten her cup of tea and slice of toast.
“Nothing she didn’t already know,” Narcissa sniffed. “She seemed very surprised that our stories were consistent. She wouldn’t tell me anything, though.” She sighed softly. “Do you know what happened to Lucius?”
“Still in Azkaban,” Draco shrugged, and his mother actually looked relieved. “Moody told me.”
“Good. That wretched place is actually a safe haven now. Snape?”
Draco finally seemed to have recovered his appetite enough to have that second breakfast. He washed down a crumpet with a swig of tea and cleared his throat. “Don’t know. When I last saw him, he was edgy. The Dark Lord suspected that he was a spy. ”
“And was he?” Ginny asked curiously. In the last fifteen minutes, she had learned more about the war, over breakfast, than anyone had ever bothered to let her know before. “How could he have been? He killed Dumbledore--”
“I don’t know,” Draco repeated thoughtfully, dribbling some more honey on his crumpet. “After all that’s happened…yes, I think he was.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Ginny protested. “Unless…”
“Dumbledore let Snape kill him. Yes.” Draco nodded. “I think that’s what happened. I was so stupid…”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve realised that,” his mother said testily. “You were never meant to get involved in this mess.”
“Yes, Mum, you’re being very helpful,” he snapped. His shoulders slumped, and Ginny remembered their first real conversation, when he’d told her he’d wanted to do something that would make his parents proud. In spite of all the stupid, twisted things he’d done, her heart went out to him. “Sorry,” he apologised sullenly.
Mrs Malfoy didn’t smile or do anything affectionate, but her voice seemed to warm a little bit when she spoke again. “I’m glad you’re alive and safe, Draco. You know that.”
“Hmph.” He looked like he wanted to lapse into a speech about how he’d die, as he usually did, but with his mother he didn’t dare to. Instead, he looked at Ginny. “We need to get down to the dungeons.”
“What are you going to do?” his mother asked, her voice sharp and clipped again.
“I’ll tell you later,” he huffed, but the corners of his mouth were curling with a lopsided smile. “Don’t sound so suspicious, Mother.”
“I know you,” she sighed. “You look like you’re up to something.”
Bizarrely, Ginny was reminded of her own mother chastising Fred and George…and her, on more than one occasion. In this situation, it was best to escape quickly. She grasped Draco’s hand, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him up. Belatedly, she realised that that might not have been what was expected of a Weasley and a Malfoy. Narcissa frowned.
“We’ll be back soon,” Ginny said hastily and dragged him out of the Hall.
“Smart move,” he huffed as they made their way down to the dungeons, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
When she glanced at him, she saw that he was smirking, and any irritation gave way to confusion. “I’m sorry,” Ginny moaned. “I didn’t think. What are you going to tell her?” She didn’t know what she’d do if his mother’s presence reawakened all the old prejudices that she’d hoped he’d left behind.
But he rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on her hand. “Nothing. She’ll piece it all together and lecture me, but in the end, she’ll let me do what I want.”
Ginny swallowed hard. “And what do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he answered after a lengthy pause. “Let’s just… I’m still not sure we’ll live through this, so don’t make me think about difficult things until we have, all right?”
Chortling, she patted his hand. He might have a point. “All right.”
They walked in a silence for a few minutes. Then, he suddenly said, “I’m glad I’m here.”
She smiled slightly. “Are you now? I thought you said it was all pointless, anyway.”
“The fight, yeah, and hero worshipping Potter, and telling each other that it’s all going to be fine - because it isn’t.” He swallowed hard. “But if I’m going down anyway, I’d rather be here with you for a while than with them.”
“You prefer my company to Mrs Lestrange’s? Now that’s a compliment,” she teased.
“Don’t be so stupid, I’m serious,” he said roughly. “You know what I’m trying to say, Weasley.”
She cocked her head coyly. “No, Malfoy, I really don’t. And don’t call me that.”
He huffed. “What I’m saying is…well, you’re predictably stubborn, and stupidly brave, and annoyingly optimistic, and I still think it’s silly to be like that while there’s a war going on that’s going to kill us all, but…damn, if you weren’t, I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago. So I’m glad.” He glanced at her and seemingly encouraged that she didn’t laugh at his words, added eagerly, “Also, I like shagging you.”
“Shhh!” Ginny attempted to hush him through her giggles, but only managed to splutter in a very undignified manner that made Draco roll his eyes at her. “Ah, Draco, you’re such a charmer,” she laughed quietly. “But I’m glad you’re here, too.”
He looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Yeah?”
“Sure,” Ginny said gently.
He shrugged. “You didn’t seem too thrilled when I first came back to Hogwarts.”
“Well you didn’t, either,” she retorted. “Merlin, you know I hated you then. I had for a long time. And you hated me too, all my family, as a matter of fact.”
“I still don’t like your family.”
Ginny chose to ignore that. “But it’s all different now. I started to think differently about you when…quite a while ago.”
He looked at her intently. “You started to think differently about me when…?”
Suddenly giddy, she snorted out a laugh. “At first, I thought it was when you kissed me, that night in the hall? But actually, it was before that - when you tripped me on one of your first days back, and I finally felt like Hogwarts was complete again.” She giggled. “God, I was so angry at you. I’d missed that. I needed a bit of anger to keep me from going mad.” Her expression turned impish. “Also, I like shagging you, too.” She lowered her voice. “We should do it again, when we’re done with that locket.”
She watched with amusement as the tips of his ears turned pink. She wouldn’t have thought he ever got flustered - he was always so confident. But apparently, he did when he cared enough about something.
( Part 4 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
BRIEFLY describe what you’d like to recieve: A 7th-year fic (it can be either Draco's or Ginny's) that incorporates the events of HBP. I do not want to see Ginny tortured or hurt. I'd like them to be together (by choice) at the end without being pure fluff.
The tone/mood of the fic: Suspense, mystery, or drama (or some combination) along with a bit of humor, if you can manage it. A surprise ending would be great but not absolutely necessary.
A theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: "I hated you then. But I started to think differently about you when" and then fill in the rest however you want. Either Draco or Ginny can say that, but one of them must say it and his/her reason. (Please try not to be predictable on this part - surprise me!)
Canon or AU? Canon preferred.
Rating of the fic you want: Any
Deal breakers (what don’t you want): Total smut, fluff, or depressing angst.
Author: peki
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Umm, all six books?
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance.
Author's Notes: A huge ‘thank you’ to my wonderful beta for being so incredibly patient when the fic kept getting longer and I messed up all the commas :-D You rock.
The title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet #43.
Beta: dragonlilleth
( Part 1 )
( Part 2 )
But what - or rather, who - she saw when she came upstairs from the dungeons made her breath hitch in her throat.
The first morning light was filtering through the open entrance door, and a small, exhausted group of people was climbing up the stairs. Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, all colour draining from her face.
Harry Potter had returned to them. And he had brought a prisoner.
“Let go of me, Potter,” Narcissa Malfoy hissed as Harry led her inside followed by Ron and Hermione. “This is disgraceful…how dare you--”
“Oh, shut up already,” Harry snarled. He was thin and looked slightly weatherworn. His hair was even more mussed than usual, and his clothes were messy and sprinkled with dirt. Ron and Hermione looked just as shabby, but they were alive and healthy, and the surge of hope, of happiness, was so sharp that for a moment, Ginny felt faint with it.
“Harry?” she gasped. “Ron?”
“Ginny!” With his long legs, Ron reached her first. He folded up his lanky frame to hug her hard, and she squeezed him with no less desperation. “God, it’s good to be back here.”
“It’s so wonderful to see you!” she sobbed out, weak with relief. When he let her go, she stumbled forward to fall into Hermione’s arms, who hugged her just as tightly as her brother had. Then, she went over to Harry, who was still standing with his hand clamped around Mrs Malfoy’s arm, staring at her wondrously as if she was the best thing he had seen in a long time.
Ginny took a moment to imagine how he’d look at her if he knew whose bed she had just crawled out of and blushed guiltily. “Hello Harry,” she said quietly, feeling flustered and overwhelmed.
Oblivious to her thoughts, he smiled. “Hello Ginny.” He let go of his captive abruptly to reach out and hug her. She stiffened, fearing that he’d try to kiss her and she’d have to dodge his attempt, but then he let her go and said, “It’s good to see you.” He looked so sincere and happy that she wanted to burst into tears. But was it her fault that things had happened while he’d been gone? It was not like she’d meant to fall for…
“Reunion. How touching,” Mrs Malfoy said dryly.
Ginny glanced at her, but much as she wanted to despise the woman, all she could think about when she looked at her was how happy Draco would be. She’d been reunited with her friends and brother today and she knew what it felt like, the relief. She wanted him to share in that. “So what’s she doing here?” she asked curiously, glad to be able to avert Harry’s attention from herself.
“We’ve been dragging her around for days,” Ron huffed. “She had the last…something we needed.”
Puzzled, Ginny looked at him, then back at Narcissa Malfoy. Her lips were clenched in a thin line and she looked just as haggard and dirty as the rest of them. Surely she hated this. Ginny grinned, suddenly feeling really cheerful. “She had the last what?”
“Harry, do you think we can…?” Hermione started hesitantly.
“Not yet,” he said firmly, shaking his head, and Ginny looked up at him, in wonder at what he’d become. A leader, so authoritative…they’d always looked to him when it came to important decisions. It came with the baggage of his past, his role in the war… But now, it was different. He was different. “It’s not over yet, and we’re not risking it if it’s not absolutely necessary. Not with Ginny.”
Ginny felt her stomach tighten with a hot rush of anger, but she clenched her fists at her sides and tried to suppress it. They had shut her out of their quest, whatever it was, more than a year ago. It didn’t matter any more now than it had then. “All right. So she was hiding something you wanted, but how did she end up here?”
“Well, we couldn’t risk her running to Voldemort after we got what we wanted, could we? So we brought her along.” Hermione looked thoughtful.
“And she was real helpful,” Ron said mockingly. “Hexed two Death Eaters who tried to ambush us, imagine that.”
“I’ve been telling you they’re after me, too,” Mrs Malfoy said scathingly. “Ever since my son disappeared--”
“Well, forgive us,” Ron snorted. “We don’t even know if that’s true, if Malfoy wasn’t working for Voldemort all this time--”
“He isn’t,” Ginny interrupted.
They all looked at her, surprised. Mrs Malfoy’s eyes were glittering with an unholy light, as if all hope and affection had long since died away inside her. “You know about Draco’s whereabouts?” she demanded.
Did she ever. Ginny grinned. “Well--”
“Mother?”
As one, they turned towards the voice. Draco stood rooted to the spot at the other end of the hall, by the doorway, as if he didn’t dare move for fear that the scene in front of him would vanish and turn out to be a dream. His chin was wobbling strangely.
“Draco?” Mrs Malfoy said in a high-pitched voice that sounded completely unlike her.
He shuddered as if a huge weight had just fallen off him, then bolted from the spot and flew through the hall. His mother met him halfway, and then they were embracing tightly, her thin hands clutching fiercely at his shoulders. “Oh, Draco…” The rest of her words were indiscernible, whispered into his ear as she held him.
Ginny saw his shoulders tremble, his hands move unsteadily over his mother’s back and, at that moment, she felt just as joyful for him as if her own mother had come to Hogwarts. She so wanted him to be happy. He needed something to be happy about, so he would want to live.
She looked cautiously at her friends. Ron, Hermione and Harry were watching the Malfoys with expressions of shock and revulsion. “What is he doing here?” Harry asked in a tight, strangled voice.
“He’s been here since the beginning of the school year,” Ginny told them carefully. “He’s kind of a prisoner, but he goes to classes with the rest of us--”
“Great,” Harry said. He sounded bitter and jealous. “Malfoy gets to study here again. Great.”
“McGonagall’s orders,” Ginny said firmly.
Ron furrowed his brow. “And you’re doing…what, exactly?”
“I’m his guard.” Ginny was proud that she succeeded in keeping down her blush. She was his guard, kind of his friend, definitely his lover…God, how would she ever explain this to anyone?
Luckily, further nosy questions were prevented by Professor McGonagall, who hurried towards them just then, flanked by two Aurors Ginny didn’t know. “Mr Potter! At last, oh thank goodness! Miss Granger, Mr Weasley…” She wrung her hands, then, apparently deciding to forgo decorum, hugged Harry.
Harry looked startled. “Er, hello, Professor.” He extricated himself carefully and gestured towards Draco and his mum. “I’ve brought a prisoner. Do you have a dungeon where we can chain her up or something? And then we need to tell you a few things.”
McGonagall peered at Narcissa anxiously. “Oh dear, how did this come about? Well, to my office, you three, I want to hear everything. Miss Weasley, take Mrs Malfoy down to Slytherin for now please, and make sure she stays there. Mr Malfoy, go have breakfast.”
“But--” Draco started defiantly, but McGonagall cut him off with a determined gesture.
“No buts,” she decreed, looking harassed. “There will be no fuss. Have breakfast. Mrs Malfoy, I want to hear your story before I allow you to be alone with your son, and I expect full cooperation or I’ll ask Alastor Moody to arrange a cell in Azkaban for you.”
Narcissa let go of her son and inclined her head stiffly. “It’s all right, Draco, go.”
He went, looking mutinous. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Ginny whispered as he passed her. “Don’t worry.” He barely glanced at her, but his dark scowl eased somewhat.
Relieved, Ginny jerked her head towards the entrance to the dungeons. “Let’s go.”
Mrs Malfoy walked ahead of her, her nose in the air, her muddied robes billowing dramatically. Ginny blinked. She’d always assumed Draco imitated his father when he flounced about like that.
“I would like a bath and some new clothes,” Narcissa Malfoy remarked as they walked, as if Ginny was some sort of servant she expected to jump at her every wish.
Ginny snorted. “Later.”
“Hmph.” Mrs Malfoy’s face became sly. “I saw you coming up from the dungeons when we arrived.”
Ginny felt her face grow hot and walked more quickly so all Mrs Malfoy could see was the back of her head. “So? I patrolled the corridors.”
“Really.” Now there was a definite vicious edge to her voice. “Have you and Draco--”
“Here we are,” Ginny snapped. Was she that obvious? Did her face give her away? Her eyes? Her cheeks scarlet with embarrassment, she made a big show of searching for the entrance to the common room. “‘Parseltongue’…’Parseltongue’…where the bloody hell is it again…”
Muttering under her breath, she pounded her fists against the stone wall for a full five minutes until apparently, Mrs Malfoy had had enough.
“It’s ten feet to the left.”
Ginny turned around and glared. “Why couldn’t you have said so earlier?”
Mrs Malfoy’s lips twitched. “It was so much more entertaining this way.”
She was wicked and awful. Draco really had gotten it from her. “‘Parseltongue’,” Ginny said to the stretch of wall that the older witch had indicated, and the hidden door swung open at last. Mrs Malfoy breezed past her without another word.
Following, Ginny made a face at her back. “Sit down.” She gestured at a chair.
“I beg your pardon?” the older witch said irritably.
“Please sit down,” Ginny sighed, exasperated. Mrs Malfoy’s bum had hardly touched the chair when Ginny flicked her wand, feeling wicked but knowing full well that she wouldn’t manage to bind a Malfoy to a chair unless she caught them by surprise. With a crack, the chair’s legs were rooted to the floor (quite literally), and Mrs Malfoy’s backside, in turn, got stuck to the chair.
“How dare you!”
“Expelliarmus,” Ginny finished hastily, catching the other’s slim wand as it flew towards her. “I’m sorry, but Professor McGonagall said to make sure you don’t leave.”
For a moment, Narcissa Malfoy looked like she’d throw a fit, but then she reined in her angry expression and looked away haughtily. “Well. Can I get a cup of tea and some food, at least?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ginny said, relieved that the other woman wasn’t going to make a fuss. She tucked the wand away safely in the inside pocket of her robes. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she promised, even though she had no reason to tell Mrs Malfoy anything. She thought of Draco and decided to be nice. “How do you like your toast?”
There was a hint of surprise in Narcissa’s searching gaze. “With marmalade,” she said at length. “Thank you.”
“All right,” Ginny nodded and escaped before she could be saddled with more requests. Besides, she wanted to know what was going on upstairs, and surely Draco must be getting restless.
And sure enough, by the time she joined him at the breakfast table, he’d already made a big mess of milk and crumbs. His movements were jittery and hectic as he reached for the teapot. Luckily, he was the only person there so far, so when he spilled the tea his swearing went unheard, except by Ginny.
“Hey,” she said, straddling the bench close beside him. She took the pot away from him and poured them each a cup. “Your mother’s fine for now. How are you?”
He shrugged edgily. “I don’t know. It’s all a bit…”
“…Much?” she smiled, patting his arm. “Yeah, I know.” Even if they’d only made love the night before, she would be pretty excitable this morning. Add to that the sudden, unexpected return of his mother and Ron, Harry and Hermione, and she was so restless that she could hardly swallow down her mouthful of tea. “Are you happy, though?”
Snorting, he moved away from her a bit so their bodies didn’t touch. Ginny frowned at that. “Happy that my mum’s here, yes.” He chewed very hard on a piece of toast. “Not so much that Potter is back, though,” he continued sullenly.
She felt a weird little tug at her insides as she watched him choke down his breakfast unenthusiastically. He was hunched over, staring at his plate and didn’t look at all like his usual boisterous self. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, scooting a little closer to him again.
But somehow, that triggered his ire. “Nothing,” he snapped, in a tone she hadn’t heard in a long time. He sounded scathing and disdainful, as if he really wanted to hurt her.
And he succeeded. After what they’d done not six hours ago, she couldn’t bear this. “What’s wrong with you?” she repeated loudly, clutching his arm so he couldn’t move away even further.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he insisted harshly, pulling away.
She fell forward and hit her elbow on the edge of the table. The pain shot up her arm and her eyes watered. “Ow, you bastard.”
He winced, but when her eyes flew up to meet his, she saw that his lips were twisting with a vicious smirk. “Leave me alone, Weasley.”
She stared at him, stunned, unsure what to say. She had thought he had changed, but now he seemed to have forgotten every last one of the quiet, tender moments they had had together. He couldn’t do this. Not after they had trusted each other and it had been so beautiful. It would be too cruel, even for him. “My name is Ginny,” she forced out through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes as she said the words. “And you’re going to use it, Draco.”
His breath was coming in rapid puffs, and his fists clenched and unclenched convulsively as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. “I hardly think I’ll have much opportunity,” he finally said flatly, “now that your boyfriend’s back.”
Her stomach lurched. She stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. No. This was just…it was ridiculous. She was so far beyond that, beyond anything she’d had with Harry, it felt like it had been another life. Which was true, really. He had to know that. “You’re joking, right?” she sobbed out, the tears falling at last with the enormous wave of her relief.
He looked startled, and she realised he’d never seen her cry. He didn’t seem to like it much. “Stop,” he said warily, his lip curling with displeasure.
Ginny made a noise that was half sob, half laugh. “No,” she cried defiantly. “You idiot! I always knew you were just jealous of Harry, the way you were carrying on, but this, this--”
“I’m not jealous,” he shot back indignantly. “I’m going to die anyway, so it’s not like this is going to last--”
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and kissed him. She had to; it was either that or strangle him. And weirdly enough, for reasons she couldn’t fathom at that moment, she wanted to keep him around for a while yet.
“No dying. No giving up,” she told him fiercely when they broke apart. She caressed his pale cheeks with her fingertips.
He huffed. “I just thought you and Potter… Now that he’s back--”
“Well, you thought wrong!”
The statement hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. His look was full of doubts. “Really.”
“Yes, really.” She blushed that colour he found so amusing on her, and his lips twitched a bit. “I like you,” she said defiantly, her face aflame. It was strange to admit it and even stranger to realise that it was very, very true.
“Well,” he said after a while. He sounded like he had no idea how to deal with declarations of affection, no matter how warped and weird they were. He looked around at the table, at his hands, everywhere but her. “I think I feel like a cup of coffee.”
He inched a bit closer on the bench and, with a giggle, she moved to sit closely by his side, her arm pressed against his, tugging at his sleeve until he yielded and let her hold his hand. He was cold even though the fires in the Hall’s many grates were blazing. She rubbed his frozen fingers so they’d warm up. “Good idea,” she agreed.
But he made no move to summon one of the elves that cooked up their breakfast. “I’m…” He squinted with irritation. “I don’t want you to go back to Potter. I want to keep you,” he finally bit out. He sighed softly on the last word, as if it had taken great effort to spit out. “But I’m still going to die.”
“Hush,” she told him. “I don’t want to hear you say that again or I’ll hurt you. You know I can and I will.”
But where that statement would’ve triggered mockery on any other day, it didn’t dispel his gloominess just then. “Listen.” He swallowed hard. “I know you think I just say that because…well, because it sounds dramatic, but I mean it.”
Ginny felt a prickle of unease race over her skin. He had never talked to her like this, so seriously. The thing with Draco was that he never really meant to follow through on anything he said. He was too much a Slytherin to be nailed down by such pesky things as promises, and so his sombre sincerity unsettled her all the more now. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
He took a deep breath. “It’s not just that He threatened to kill me…He’d kill anyone who’s in his way, after all. But my aunt once told me that if I failed…if I didn’t do His bidding to the last, that she was going to hunt me down and turn my insides out. And if you’re too close to me when she finds me, she’ll do it to you too, and to my mum, her own sister--”
“Shut up!” Ginny snapped, unable to stand this any longer. “I can’t, I just, oh God, Draco, don’t think of that! You’re going to go mad!” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “You have to make yourself believe that there’s hope. Lots of good people are fighting on our side--”
“They’re not on my side,” he said in a low voice. Absently, he flicked his wand, and the tea spills dried, the crumbs vanished, their plates and cups straightened and arranged themselves neatly. She watched him, wondering at this meticulous neatness. “They don’t care about me or anything that’s important to me. Why should I trust anyone?”
Ginny breathed deeply, reassured by his irritation. She could deal with this. It was better than fear or despair. “You can trust me,” she told him earnestly.
He snorted, and the sound was bitter and slightly cruel. “What good will that do?”
“You’ll feel better,” she flung back at him. “And if you die, at least you’ll know that you were with someone who cared about you. If you let yourself believe it.”
He was silent for a long time, his harsh breaths the only sound in the silent hall. Then, he said, “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was flat and emotionless. “We’ll die here, and the sooner it happens, the better. I can’t stand the wait.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know how to make him understand that he wasn’t alone and that she wouldn’t stop hoping, and if she had to, she would hope enough for both of them.
But he sounded so…broken. Like he really believed what he said and nothing she did would make a difference. She tugged at his arm, but he sat rigid and straight, staring at the far wall. She peered at him unhappily. “Look at me,” she demanded, shaking his arm a bit. “The sooner we die, the better? Hell, no. I still have plans for you. For us. Why can’t you just adapt, dammit? Isn’t that what Slytherins do? Whatever it takes?”
His face fell. He turned his head towards her at last, and she saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and gleaming wetly. “Ginny…”
The way he said her name almost brought her to tears again. It sounded urgent and desperate, as if he was reaching for her from the bottom of a dark pit, pleading with her to help him find his way out.
“We’ll be fine,” she whispered, cradling one of his fists in her smaller hands. “I’m here, don’t worry.”
He was gasping for breath as if the air was being choked out of him. “Run away with me. I have money abroad, unplottable houses, we could disappear where no one could ever find us again--”
“No,” she said immediately. “It’s time to be brave and fight.”
“Bravery is for Gryffindors,” he snorted bitterly. He shook her off brusquely, and when she reached out, he swatted her hands away.
She dropped them to her lap, twisting her fingers in agitation. “Our side isn’t going to win if we don’t all do our part.”
“Our side?” He shook his head. “We’re not on the same side.”
“Oh yes we are,” she retorted. “This became our side when you first kissed me, you git.” She grasped his shoulder to turn him around and put both her hands on his chest. “I don’t snog evil people, so clearly, you’re on my side.”
“Or you’re on mine, has that occurred to you?” he asked.
“Same difference,” she replied with a lofty smile. “We both want to survive, right?”
“But even if we do, I don’t think my mum and I can get through this all right, anyway,” he said glumly. “We’ve already lost.”
“Oh, Draco…” Ginny didn’t know whether to laugh or scream or both. His pessimism was so vitriolic it should’ve poisoned him years ago, or at least made him shrivel up like the grumpy old man he was inside. “No, you haven’t. It’ll be all right.”
His scowl eased a bit at her fierce, determined tone. “How would you even know what ‘all right’ means to us?”
She shrugged. “Well, you’ll still have your big fancy house, and your money, and you’ll always be an annoying prat…”
He seemed torn between grinning and sneering, which made for a very strange expression. Smiling, Ginny touched his pointy chin with one finger, tracing his jaw gently. “Come on. We’ll stay and fight, and we’ll live, and then--”
She broke off, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure what would happen then. She had claimed to have plans, but they hadn’t really developed yet beyond a vague desire to snog him. A lot. And make him laugh a little. She liked it when he laughed and was happy, as he’d been that morning when they’d lain in bed together. Perhaps they should spend a few months or so in bed after the final battle, she thought giddily. She liked that idea.
Draco looked at her expectantly. “What then?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “We can do whatever we want.” Her mind was all too ready to supply her with mental images of what that could be, and she blushed.
He smiled slowly, as if he could read her thoughts. His hands sneaked up her sides to her waist. “Well, I suppose--”
“Breakfast! Oh God, I’m starving!”
At Ron’s voice, they both dropped their hands, startled, and instinctively moved further apart even though Ginny berated herself for it. They had nothing to be ashamed of. The others might not like him, but she knew better, and she was old enough to make her own decisions.
But then she looked around, saw Harry, and her heart clenched painfully. She couldn’t just spring something like this on him. Who knew what he was expecting? At the very least, he deserved a private talk.
Elbowing Draco lightly, she gave him a warning look, and though his lips curled with a sneer and he seemed like he would very much like to say something mean and hurtful, he nodded once and grabbed another piece of toast, busying himself with spreading butter on it unevenly.
“Ahh! Right!” Ginny said to him, slapping her forehead as she suddenly remembered something. “Your mother wanted breakfast!”
“Not now,” Ron said dismissively, already chewing a croissant before he had even sat down. “McGonagall just sent the Aurors to bring her up for interrogation. She’ll be a while, probably.”
Hermione sat down beside him gingerly, giving Ginny, Draco, and the single table a quizzical look. “What happened to the house tables?”
“Not enough students left,” Ginny replied, shrugging. She noticed the way that Ron and Hermione’s arms rubbed against each other as they filled their plates with toast and eggs. They were obviously comfortable sharing each other’s space. About time.
She glanced at Harry, who still stood at the end of the table, looking at her with a slightly furrowed brow.
“No house tables,” Ron grumbled through a mouthful of bacon. “That’s weird.”
“It is,” Hermione said crisply. She was studying the blond and the redhead across from her with a tight expression. “But then, it’s what the Sorting Hat has been advising.”
Ginny fought the urge to squirm under her friend’s penetrating gaze. “It’s been working out quite well.” She chanced a look at Draco, who was still buttering the slice of toast. It crumbled under the forceful strokes of the knife. “Right?” she asked in an attempt to make him join in the conversation.
Harry still hadn’t sat down. His posture was unnerving. Ginny bit back a remark. For the first time, she understood why Draco had always been so irritated by him.
“Hmph,” Draco muttered, beside her. “If you pass your Potions NEWT, it’s just because I saved your piss-poor concoctions.”
He didn’t sound nice. He sounded quite like he always had, actually, mean and ill-tempered, but something about the way his lips curled upwards when he had finished and almost-smiled at her must’ve given him away.
Ron dropped his fork. Hermione’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. At the end of the table, Harry finally sat down, hard. All three of them stared at Ginny and Draco, shocked.
“What?” Ginny asked, with one last weak attempt at nonchalance. It didn’t work. Her face went bright red, redder than the fried tomatoes on Ron’s plate.
“What’s going on?” her brother asked, his eyes flickering back and forth between the pair across from him. His voice was high-pitched and panicked. “Ginny…”
Hermione seemed to catch herself first. She closed her mouth and nudged Ron slightly with her elbow. “Now is not the time, Ron.” She gave Ginny a look that seemed to demand ‘Details. Later,’ then turned to Harry.
He was scowling and the gaze that he had fixed on Draco was so full of hatred that he hardly looked like himself any more. Ginny started. Their journey, the fight - they had changed him. Made him tougher. She hardly knew this man who was sitting opposite her now, his eyes hard and merciless.
“Harry…” Hermione said gently, but he shook his head.
“I can’t believe I felt sorry for you once,” he ground out, still fixating Draco. “I can’t believe I thought you deserved our pity, when you were here all this time--”
“Well, I don’t want your pity, Potter,” Draco sneered. “I don’t need--”
“Enough!” Hermione interrupted, so forcefully that even Draco shut up. Her jaw was set tensely. “We don’t have time for this. We need to figure out how to open this thing.”
She shook her sleeve and something clattered on the table, a round, large silver locket. Its appearance seemed to refocus Ron and Harry’s attention.
“Right,” Harry said curtly, tearing his eyes away from Ginny and Draco. “And quick. The Death Eaters will know we’re here, by now. I want to crack this and be gone before they get close enough to endanger anyone.”
“What is it?” Ginny asked curiously, unable to resist. Something about the locket was strangely compelling, almost as if it was whispering to her with a voice of its own. She peered at it closely.
“A locket,” Hermione told her sternly, in a tone of voice that allowed no further questions. “We came here to find a way to open it, and--”
“Give it to me. I can crack any lock.”
They all jumped at Draco’s voice. When Ginny turned to him, she saw that he was eyeing the locket too as if he felt its strange lure. He was absently rubbing at his arm.
“No,” Ron said flatly. “Not you. You’re one of them.”
Draco flinched. “I’m--”
“Ron,” Ginny interrupted before he could fire up. She felt herself blush again but bravely held her brother’s angry gaze. “No matter what you think of him right now, I guarantee you that’s not true. He’s with us.” And Draco better prove her right. She felt his eyes on her and knew that he was dying to protest. “Believe me.”
Ron’s face was turning a lovely shade of puce. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “Oh, no… Hermione…”
Hermione stared at Ginny for a few long moments, then suddenly seemed to make up her mind. “We’ve tried everything we know,” she said. “We might as well try this.” Her hard, determined look eased a bit when she glanced at Harry. “What do you say?”
Harry stared at Draco. Draco stared back unblinkingly. When Harry tossed the locket across the table, he caught it, looking startled. “You have an hour,” Harry announced flatly. “If you don’t have a clue how to open it then, we’ll think of something else.”
And so it was that Ginny was stuck with the three of them while Draco locked himself inside an empty classroom, demanding that he be left alone.
Ginny felt her brother’s eyes on her, drilling into her back as the four of them went up to Gryffindor together. Her heart pounded inside her chest. No matter what sort of dangerous task the three were occupied with, surely Ron would find a moment to ask nosy questions or yell at her or both.
And sure enough, when Harry excused himself to stalk off to the bathroom, looking angry and unhappy, Ron rounded on his sister. “What’s going on?” he hissed, his face shining bright and red. “Between you and Malfoy?”
Hermione was standing by the fire, warming her hands, and even though she pretended like she wasn’t listening, Ginny was sure that she heard every word and that she’d take Ron’s side if an argument broke out. She didn’t want that. She was so happy that they were back… But then, she also didn’t want to betray Draco. He needed her more than Ron or Hermione or even Harry.
“It’s none of your business, Ron,” she answered, gently but firmly. “He’s changed.”
“No he’s not!” he protested. “That’s Malfoy we’re talking about!”
“How would you even know?” she retorted. “You weren’t here. I was. It’s been rough, biding our time here, waiting for doom to come to us - yes, I know what you’ve done must’ve been really dangerous, and I’m so glad you’re back now,” she insisted when he opened his mouth to say something. “But it’s not easy, being left behind like this.”
That made him forget anything he’d been meaning to say. Ron looked at her, stunned, and Hermione turned around too, staring at her with a crease between her brows. “Ginny, we didn’t leave you behind--”
“What else would you call it?” she asked, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. But don’t think you know what’s right for me after you’ve been gone all this time. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“But…” Ron gestured wildly. “Malfoy!”
“Do you really think now is the time for this discussion?” When he didn’t answer, Ginny nodded. “Right. Come on, Ron, give me a hug and don’t be angry,” she said pleadingly. They’d always been so close - they weren’t far apart in age, and they had always been the babies of the family. She couldn’t bear the thought that he’d look at her differently now.
He huffed but did put his arms around her awkwardly. “I’m worried about you,” he said, close to her ear. “That’s all, Ginny.”
“I know,” she said gruffly. “Thanks, Ron, but it’s not necessary.” She sighed deeply when he released her. “Shouldn’t we be more worried about the battle? Draco keeps saying that we’re all going to die.”
“I never liked Malfoy’s attitude,” Ron growled. “I’m not going to die, not when Hermione and I--” He broke off, flushing an even darker shade of red.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Ron.”
Ginny looked back and forth between them, raising a brow. “Yes?” she prompted excitedly. “What about you and Hermione?”
“We’re, uh, sort of together now,” he muttered, looking down at his oversized feet.
“What do you mean, sort of?” Hermione said testily. “We are together, and we’re not going to die.”
Ginny laughed. It was nice to know that good things happened, happy things, even in a time like this. “That’s great,” she said sincerely. “About time, too.”
“Yes,” Ron admitted, sounding smug and pleased. “It was getting a bit silly, the way we were going on.”
“It was getting silly?” Ginny snorted. “It’s been silly for a long time.”
“We were worried what’d happen, though - if it’d affect what we were doing, and what Harry would think…” Hermione said hesitantly. She and Ron glanced at each other. “It’s been lonely, for him,” she told Ginny carefully.
“And he thinks…er, Ginny,” Ron continued, “I think he thinks that when this is over, you’ll be…you know…”
“Waiting for him?” she sighed. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going to happen then, but you’ll have to let me figure that out by myself. I’ll talk to Harry.” Not that she was looking forward to that conversation. She felt a pang of guilt. She had used to miss him so much, more than her brother even, and now…now that had just sort of faded away, and he was only a distant figure at the edge of her awareness.
“Malfoy,” Ron muttered under his breath, but Hermione nudged him and he didn’t say anything else. For now, a grudging truce and silence had to be good enough, Ginny decided.
“All right. Can I help you with something?” After all, if Draco was helping them, she should, too.
“There’s not really much we can do,” Hermione said. She looked decidedly unhappy that even her industriousness had reached its limit at last. “Not until we know how to open that locket.”
“And don’t you have classes?” Ron put in not-so-helpfully.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to class while you’re here, doing things that are much more important--”
“You should. It’s better if you don’t get involved in any of this.”
She winced when she heard Harry’s voice, but when she turned around to face him, her jaw was set determinedly. His hair was wet and sticking up, and he looked much better now that he was clean. His face was very serious, though. “I already am,” she told him. “We all are. We’ll all have to fight, when the end comes--”
“Not if I can help it,” he said curtly. “We only came here to find out more about the locket. When we’re done, we’re leaving, and the Death Eaters will come after us.”
Ginny’s heart clenched painfully. “You can’t end this on your own, Harry.”
His green eyes sparked. “I’ll have to, won’t I?” he asked angrily. “When even you have gone and--”
“Ahhh!”
The Fat Lady’s shrill cry startled them all. Even though the portrait hole was closed, they could hear her shrieking through the stone wall. “Password! Password! No entering without the…” There was another cry. “I say, young man! That was just rude!”
Ginny could picture vividly just what was going on outside. Before the others could react, she hurried to the entrance and pushed it open.
Draco’s fist hung in mid-air. He dropped it when he saw her. “Finally. That fat bitch didn’t let me in.”
“The password is ‘Lion’s Den’,” she said, dragging him inside. “Don’t insult the Fat Lady.”
“What do you mean, ‘fat’?” came from the other side of the door, but Ginny closed it quickly.
Before they went into the common room, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Be nice,” she whispered, caressing him to cushion the stern order. “My brother’s already adapting, and Harry…he’s under a lot of stress. Please.”
He squinted irritably. “And we’re not? All of us?”
In spite of herself, Ginny grinned. “It’s not quite the same, love,” she murmured, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank God it’s not. Please be good.”
He grumbled, but pulled her close to kiss her properly. And even though the situation was tense and serious, she couldn’t help the shiver of pleasure that raced down her spine. Her skin tingled with his touch. The night’s excitement hadn’t quite ebbed away yet. Ginny pulled back, happy that it hadn’t. They needed something pleasant to get them through this stressful day.
“We should never have gotten up,” he muttered against her lips, but then released her reluctantly.
Together, they went up into the common room. Ron and Harry scowled at Draco when they entered, but Hermione, at least, looked determined to focus on what was important.
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What did you find?” She sounded hesitant, like she didn’t expect too much from him.
Draco shrugged. “Some good news, and some bad news.”
The three of them looked surprised. Ron’s face was doubtful, Hermione’s anxious, and Harry’s serious and glum. “Good news first,” he commanded.
“I’ve figured it out,” Draco said proudly.
Hermione made a squeaky, shocked little noise. “Really?”
“Yes. Bad news - whoever put the protection charms on this locket reinforced them with a blood seal.” Shrugging, he tossed it at Harry, who caught it.
“You mean the key to the locket is…that person’s blood?” Hermione asked quickly.
“Ew!” Ron muttered.
“Or that of a relative, if they’re not too far removed in the bloodline,” Draco said, giving Hermione an unfriendly look. “That’s what blood seal means, Granger.”
There was a pause in which Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other silently, seeming to debate something without even speaking. Ginny watched them quizzically, feeling very excluded, very out of place once again. She stepped closer to Draco so her shoulder was pressed against his arm and was surprised to feel his hand move over the small of her back, coming to rest on her hip. She wouldn’t have thought he liked casual displays of affection, but then, he probably wanted to stake his claim. She rolled her eyes but didn’t move his hand. He was squeezing the fleshy curve of her hip, and it felt nice.
“Harry…” Hermione said after a few minutes of meaningful looks, “I think we need to take the risk and tell them now.”
Risk! Ginny opened her mouth, ready to reply indignantly, but then Harry nodded curtly and tossed the locket back at Draco. He caught it, surprised. “What am I supposed to do with it, Potter?”
“Regulus Black put the seal on it,” Harry said.
“…we think!” Hermione interjected.
“So open it,” Harry finished. “You’re half a Black, right?”
“Yes, but…” Draco looked down at the locket. “What is it?” he asked warily.
Hermione took a deep breath. “It is a Horcrux,” she explained. “A piece of Voldemort’s soul. We can’t kill him unless all the Horcruxes are destroyed first. There were six. This is the last one.”
Ginny heard Draco inhale sharply. Suddenly he was holding the locket as if it was white-hot. “A piece of the Dark Lord’s soul?” he snapped, sounding panicked. “I’m not opening that! Are you crazy? Who knows what it’ll do--”
“We know what it’ll do,” Ron said, miffed that he had to explain this to Draco. He eyed the hand on Ginny’s hip. “It’ll release that bit of him that’s trapped inside, and we’ll kill it. It’s what we’ve been doing for a year and a half. Malfoy, let go of my sister!”
Ginny winced. “Ron--” she started, at the same time that Draco said,
“Well, Weasley, we--”
“Now’s not the time,” Ginny interrupted forcefully, elbowing him in the ribs.
He jumped, and the locket clattered loudly on the floor as he dropped it. Again, that captured everyone’s attention.
“Right,” Harry said tightly, a deep crease between his brows. He was looking very hard at the locket, not sparing Ginny a single glance. “Hermione, prepare the wards. He’ll open it or we’ll make his mother do it instead.”
“Or Ron or I could try,” Ginny threw in, glancing at Draco’s profile. He looked like he’d rather not be involved in this. “We’re related to the Blacks too, and--”
“No,” Draco snapped. The hand on her hip tightened to the point of pain. “You’re not opening that thing. It’s dangerous.” He was looking at her fiercely, and Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. He was actually worried for her. “And besides, I’m almost sure you’re too far removed in the bloodline. I don’t even know if it’d work if I tried to open it. He might have meant for his brother to find that thing.”
“He meant to destroy it,” Harry said pensively. “And then he didn’t have the time, or the nerve, so he hid it in Grimmauld Place, for Sirius to find--”
“And then Dung came across it,” Ron finished darkly. “And sold it to the enemy. That bloody idiot, the next time I see him, I’ll--”
“Ron. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Harry, we could also ask Tonks--” Hermione started tentatively, but he shook his head.
“We’re not putting Tonks at risk. Malfoy will do it.”
“So you admit there is a risk,” Draco sneered.
“Of course there’s a risk, Malfoy,” Harry shot back. “It’s Voldemort’s soul, what do you expect? But you’ve got the chance to do something right for a change…not that you deserve it, but here’s something that Ron or Hermione or I can’t do, but you can - don’t you love that? So do it already.”
They glared at each other until Ginny very deliberately put her hand on Draco’s arm and shook him gently. “He’s right, you know,” she told him quietly.
Draco huffed, but Accioed the locket. “Oh, I just know I’m going to regret this,” he muttered. “What do I do?”
“How do you open it?” Hermione’s tone was brisk and businesslike all of a sudden. She had taken off her robe and rolled up her sleeves and was currently thumbing through a large book full of runes and symbols.
“Say the incantation and drip a little blood on it,” he said. “It’s easy, once you know how.”
Hermione flushed at this insult to her intelligence, and Ginny wondered for how long she’d been trying to open the locket now. “Well, we draw up this sigil,” she showed them a worn page that had a star-shaped symbol on it, “put the locket in the middle, and when it’s opened, we activate the spell - the spirit is contained within a force field, and then we destroy it.”
“And that works?” Ginny asked doubtfully. “Every time?”
Hermione looked a bit sheepish. “Well, to be honest, once it kind of got away, and--”
“There’s no time for this,” Harry interrupted. “Voldemort knows we’re working on one of the last Horcruxes - the Death Eaters will be here soon and they’ll do anything to stop us. But as soon as it’s destroyed, we can attack him.”
“Great plan,” Draco snorted.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron shouted. “And Ginny, let go of him already.”
“No, Ron,” she shouted back. “Just get the bloody hell over it, and--”
“What in the world is going on? Miss Weasley, Mr Malfoy, why aren’t you in class?” Professor McGonagall suddenly stood in the common room as if she’d materialised out of nowhere. She was glaring at the lot of them over the edge of her glasses.
Narcissa Malfoy stood behind her in the doorway, looking around with the same expression of disdain that Draco had worn the first time Ginny had brought him into Gryffindor Tower. Finally, she caught her son’s eyes, sighed softly and shrugged. Ginny noticed that she was now wearing a set of the magical cuffs that Draco also had around his wrists. So she was here to stay, then. He would like that.
“We’re helping,” Ginny told the Headmistress quickly. “We were just discussing--”
“Our next steps,” Harry interrupted swiftly.
Ginny closed her mouth, astonished. So apparently, they didn’t even want McGonagall to know about that Horcrux thing. They really had kept it secret, just between them. She felt a bit better about it, now that she knew that.
“And you need Mr Malfoy’s help?” McGonagall asked with no small degree of surprise.
“Yes,” Ron grumbled, glaring fiercely.
“And we need an empty dungeon, Professor, far away from the students,” Hermione put in.
The Headmistress sighed. “I really wish you’d tell me what’s going on.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But we’ve been over that. All right. I do hope Albus knew what he was doing when he advised you to be so secretive, Mr Potter. Ask Mr Filch to take you down to the empty dungeons in the eastern wing. The students are in class. Will they be safe enough there?”
Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then at Draco. They seemed to have one of their weird silent conversations. Then, Harry said, “Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Miss Weasley, if you’re not needed--”
“I’m not going to class,” Ginny insisted stubbornly.
“Ginny, we need to prepare, anyway,” Hermione told her. “Till we’re done, you can--”
“…Finally get me some breakfast,” Mrs Malfoy interjected sharply. “I may be a prisoner, but--”
“All right! All right,” McGonagall snapped, looking harassed. The two women glared at each other, and Ginny thought with some amusement that no love seemed to be lost between them. She wondered why that was. Perhaps Mr and Mrs Malfoy had sneaked around a lot when they’d been students. “Miss Weasley, could you please…?”
“And give back my wand, please,” Narcissa demanded. “Draco, come along too, I need to talk to you.”
And she swept out regally, clearly expecting her son and Ginny to follow like stupid puppies.
Shrugging, Ginny shot her stunned friends an apologetic look. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“So what did you tell McGonagall?” Draco asked his mother after she had finally gotten her cup of tea and slice of toast.
“Nothing she didn’t already know,” Narcissa sniffed. “She seemed very surprised that our stories were consistent. She wouldn’t tell me anything, though.” She sighed softly. “Do you know what happened to Lucius?”
“Still in Azkaban,” Draco shrugged, and his mother actually looked relieved. “Moody told me.”
“Good. That wretched place is actually a safe haven now. Snape?”
Draco finally seemed to have recovered his appetite enough to have that second breakfast. He washed down a crumpet with a swig of tea and cleared his throat. “Don’t know. When I last saw him, he was edgy. The Dark Lord suspected that he was a spy. ”
“And was he?” Ginny asked curiously. In the last fifteen minutes, she had learned more about the war, over breakfast, than anyone had ever bothered to let her know before. “How could he have been? He killed Dumbledore--”
“I don’t know,” Draco repeated thoughtfully, dribbling some more honey on his crumpet. “After all that’s happened…yes, I think he was.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Ginny protested. “Unless…”
“Dumbledore let Snape kill him. Yes.” Draco nodded. “I think that’s what happened. I was so stupid…”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve realised that,” his mother said testily. “You were never meant to get involved in this mess.”
“Yes, Mum, you’re being very helpful,” he snapped. His shoulders slumped, and Ginny remembered their first real conversation, when he’d told her he’d wanted to do something that would make his parents proud. In spite of all the stupid, twisted things he’d done, her heart went out to him. “Sorry,” he apologised sullenly.
Mrs Malfoy didn’t smile or do anything affectionate, but her voice seemed to warm a little bit when she spoke again. “I’m glad you’re alive and safe, Draco. You know that.”
“Hmph.” He looked like he wanted to lapse into a speech about how he’d die, as he usually did, but with his mother he didn’t dare to. Instead, he looked at Ginny. “We need to get down to the dungeons.”
“What are you going to do?” his mother asked, her voice sharp and clipped again.
“I’ll tell you later,” he huffed, but the corners of his mouth were curling with a lopsided smile. “Don’t sound so suspicious, Mother.”
“I know you,” she sighed. “You look like you’re up to something.”
Bizarrely, Ginny was reminded of her own mother chastising Fred and George…and her, on more than one occasion. In this situation, it was best to escape quickly. She grasped Draco’s hand, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him up. Belatedly, she realised that that might not have been what was expected of a Weasley and a Malfoy. Narcissa frowned.
“We’ll be back soon,” Ginny said hastily and dragged him out of the Hall.
“Smart move,” he huffed as they made their way down to the dungeons, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
When she glanced at him, she saw that he was smirking, and any irritation gave way to confusion. “I’m sorry,” Ginny moaned. “I didn’t think. What are you going to tell her?” She didn’t know what she’d do if his mother’s presence reawakened all the old prejudices that she’d hoped he’d left behind.
But he rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on her hand. “Nothing. She’ll piece it all together and lecture me, but in the end, she’ll let me do what I want.”
Ginny swallowed hard. “And what do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he answered after a lengthy pause. “Let’s just… I’m still not sure we’ll live through this, so don’t make me think about difficult things until we have, all right?”
Chortling, she patted his hand. He might have a point. “All right.”
They walked in a silence for a few minutes. Then, he suddenly said, “I’m glad I’m here.”
She smiled slightly. “Are you now? I thought you said it was all pointless, anyway.”
“The fight, yeah, and hero worshipping Potter, and telling each other that it’s all going to be fine - because it isn’t.” He swallowed hard. “But if I’m going down anyway, I’d rather be here with you for a while than with them.”
“You prefer my company to Mrs Lestrange’s? Now that’s a compliment,” she teased.
“Don’t be so stupid, I’m serious,” he said roughly. “You know what I’m trying to say, Weasley.”
She cocked her head coyly. “No, Malfoy, I really don’t. And don’t call me that.”
He huffed. “What I’m saying is…well, you’re predictably stubborn, and stupidly brave, and annoyingly optimistic, and I still think it’s silly to be like that while there’s a war going on that’s going to kill us all, but…damn, if you weren’t, I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago. So I’m glad.” He glanced at her and seemingly encouraged that she didn’t laugh at his words, added eagerly, “Also, I like shagging you.”
“Shhh!” Ginny attempted to hush him through her giggles, but only managed to splutter in a very undignified manner that made Draco roll his eyes at her. “Ah, Draco, you’re such a charmer,” she laughed quietly. “But I’m glad you’re here, too.”
He looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Yeah?”
“Sure,” Ginny said gently.
He shrugged. “You didn’t seem too thrilled when I first came back to Hogwarts.”
“Well you didn’t, either,” she retorted. “Merlin, you know I hated you then. I had for a long time. And you hated me too, all my family, as a matter of fact.”
“I still don’t like your family.”
Ginny chose to ignore that. “But it’s all different now. I started to think differently about you when…quite a while ago.”
He looked at her intently. “You started to think differently about me when…?”
Suddenly giddy, she snorted out a laugh. “At first, I thought it was when you kissed me, that night in the hall? But actually, it was before that - when you tripped me on one of your first days back, and I finally felt like Hogwarts was complete again.” She giggled. “God, I was so angry at you. I’d missed that. I needed a bit of anger to keep me from going mad.” Her expression turned impish. “Also, I like shagging you, too.” She lowered her voice. “We should do it again, when we’re done with that locket.”
She watched with amusement as the tips of his ears turned pink. She wouldn’t have thought he ever got flustered - he was always so confident. But apparently, he did when he cared enough about something.
( Part 4 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
BRIEFLY describe what you’d like to recieve: A 7th-year fic (it can be either Draco's or Ginny's) that incorporates the events of HBP. I do not want to see Ginny tortured or hurt. I'd like them to be together (by choice) at the end without being pure fluff.
The tone/mood of the fic: Suspense, mystery, or drama (or some combination) along with a bit of humor, if you can manage it. A surprise ending would be great but not absolutely necessary.
A theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: "I hated you then. But I started to think differently about you when" and then fill in the rest however you want. Either Draco or Ginny can say that, but one of them must say it and his/her reason. (Please try not to be predictable on this part - surprise me!)
Canon or AU? Canon preferred.
Rating of the fic you want: Any
Deal breakers (what don’t you want): Total smut, fluff, or depressing angst.