peki wrote 'And With My Childhood's Faith' for sue_bridehead

[fienabler]

Title: And With My Childhood’s Faith (Part 4)
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 )
( Part 3 )
When they reached the dungeons, Hermione was putting the finishing touches to a strange, sombre scene that looked more suited to summoning an incubus than banishing an evil spirit. The sigil from the book had been drawn on the stone floor with white chalk and candles were placed in a circle around it. The whole set-up was ominous, giving the room a strange, gloomy atmosphere. Ginny shivered uneasily.

“Hermione, it gets more like a scene from a horror movie every time you do it,” Harry was saying as they entered. The words were light, but he sounded tense and nervous.

There was a faint echo of that old feeling at the pit of her stomach, warm and affectionate, but now, Ginny felt more like patting his shoulder and telling him that everything would be all right than snogging him to take his mind off things. It was strange how she couldn’t imagine kissing Harry at all, but she could very well imagine kissing the boy who was standing next to her, watching with a frown.

Draco looked scared. Wary and disdainful too, yes, and Ginny was sure that that was what he wanted the others to see. But when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was fear. It was in his every edgy motion, the tightness of his jaw, the rigid posture.

She stroked her hand down his spine gently, unmindful of Ron’s apprehensive look, Hermione’s surprised glance, Harry’s angry scowl. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chided quietly when Draco directed his frown at her. “Remember what we just talked about.”

“Hmph,” he chuffed. “Who knows what’s going to happen when I open that thing.”

“It’ll be fine,” she reminded him. “They’ve done this several times now.”

“Yeah.” He smirked viciously. “You do know that this is Dark Magic, don’t you, Granger?”

A flush rose in Hermione’s cheeks, climbing all the way up to the roots of her hair. “It’s not like we have a choice, do we, Malfoy?”

Ginny glanced at her, then at Draco. He shrugged with taunting nonchalance. “I just thought I’d point it out.”

“Would you rather we asked your mother after all, Malfoy?” Harry snapped from across the room. “If you’re too scared--”

“No,” Draco said immediately. “I’ll do it. Leave her alone.”

“Well.” Hermione stepped back and examined the tattered page in her book again. “I think we’re ready. Harry, put the locket in the middle. Malfoy, you’ll have to open it in there so when the spirit gets out, it’ll be contained within the force field.” She rummaged through a large leather bag and pulled out a silver dagger. “Scourgify,” she said, waving her wand over it before handing it to Draco. “Here you go.”

“Can’t I make him bleed?” Ron asked darkly. He had inched closer to Hermione and was now hovering protectively close by her side.

“No,” Draco snapped. He stepped inside the chalk lines, crouched down in front of the locket and examined it once again. His breaths were coming very quickly. “And there’s no other way?”

“God, Malfoy, you coward, just do it,” Harry said sharply.

“And when it starts to open, get out of there,” Hermione advised. “Ginny, you’d better stand back. Protego works on it, just in case… Ready, everyone?”

She looked at her two companions. They nodded, anxiety radiating off all of them in waves. Ginny hung back quietly, but drew her wand. Silence descended over the dungeon like a heavy, oppressive blanket, suffocating them slowly. The candles flickered in the draught that streamed in through the cracks and gaps between the wet stones. Shadows danced across the walls like ghouls. If nothing happened, and soon, to break this frozen moment, she’d go mad, Ginny thought.

But then, Hermione whispered, “Do it, now,” and, biting his lip, Draco dragged the dagger over his index finger, wincing a bit with the pain, and began to whisper the incantation.

A drop of blood fell, staining the luminous silver. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if moved by an invisible fist, the locket began to shake and rattle, scratching the smooth surface of the stone beneath it.

Draco scrambled backwards, but before he had reached the outer line of the sigil, the locket sprang open. He howled as a blinding wave of green light erupted from within and its force threw him backwards and out of the force field. He crashed into a wall and fell to the floor, clutching at his arm.

Ginny watched, horrified, as he thrashed and twisted with agony, his screams echoing through the narrow chamber.

“What’s wrong with him?” she screamed, whirling around to look at Hermione, but what she saw made her blood run cold.

The green light had taken the shape of some ghastly monster, grimacing hideously as it hissed and screeched. The magical barriers that had been set up contained it, but it fought against its bindings. The air seemed to shudder and tremble around it as Harry and Ron and Hermione fired spell after spell at the terrible shape, and the screeching grew louder till Ginny had to cover her ears, her eyes watering with the pain. She felt something hot and sticky staining her hand and realised that her ears were bleeding.

In the corner, Draco was twitching, he too covered in blood. Moaning, she crawled over to him, cradling his head to her chest, and watched with horror as the others fought for their lives. Nothing could have prepared her for this - it was a scene out of a nightmare. She felt like the high, furious shrieks were piercing her very heart, as if the monster was determined to take them all down with it as it grew smaller, fainter, struggling under the force of the trio’s spells. When the screeching finally died down and the spirit faded away, tears were dripping off Ginny’s cheeks and her body was shuddering with violent sobs.

At last it was over. Hermione’s knees buckled and she sat down on the floor, hard. Ron wiped his sweaty brow. “Worst one yet,” Harry gasped. “Are you all right, Ginny?”

No. She wasn’t. She was still bawling, holding on to Draco. He had gone still in her arms when the spirit had disappeared and was now passed out cold. She wiped at her wet face. “What’s wrong with him?” she cried. Her ears were throbbing dully with pain, and every noise or voice was muffled as if through layers and layers of cotton.

Harry frowned, but stepped closer. “Pull back his sleeve.”

Confused, Ginny did so. The flesh of his left arm was scorched horribly and in the middle of the terrible burn, the Dark Mark glared black and sinister. She winced. She hadn’t noticed it before, not even when he’d been naked above her. She hadn’t even thought of it.

“Must’ve been the Mark,” Harry said flatly, without much compassion. “It must’ve responded to that bit of Voldemort’s soul.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it’d be like this?” she demanded angrily.

“We didn’t know,” Hermione said apologetically, flicking her wand to heal Ron’s bleeding ears, then doing the same for Harry and Ginny. “It’s been different every time. And we didn’t know it’d affect Malfoy like that.”

Draco was stirring in her arms, groaning softly. His burned arm started to tremble as awareness of the pain took over.

Ginny patted his cheeks gently. “Draco,” she sniffled. “Come on, wake up.”

His eyelashes fluttered. “If this is what it’s like when Potter fights the Dark Lord,” he murmured, “I think I’m not going to help them after all.”

Ginny laughed weakly. “Too late,” she told him, brushing his hair back from his face. “The locket’s open and destroyed.”

“See, Granger?” he gasped, forcing his eyes open. They were glittering with something like malicious satisfaction. “Blood seal.”

“Well, at last there’s something that your wonderful toujours pur blood is good for,” Ron said scathingly.

Hermione ignored the hostility for the moment. “Malfoy, what happened to you when we attacked that Horcrux?”

He sat up with some difficulty, and Ginny dropped her hands, feeling instinctively that he wouldn’t want her to cling to him while her friends looked on. She simply shifted to sit, cross-legged, beside him. “It felt like my arm was being ripped off.” He scowled. “No, that’s not right. It felt like something was being pulled out of me.” He cradled his arm gingerly. “Damn you,” he added as an afterthought.

But Hermione didn’t seem the least bit insulted. More excited, actually. “So it does affect the Death Eaters,” she said smugly. “Have you felt it before?”

“It always burns now,” he said irritably. “Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

“So what?” Ron asked. “I mean, I’m all for hurting them, but--”

“I think,” Hermione said, “that when Harry attacks Voldemort, actually manages to wound him, now that the Horcruxes are gone the Death Eaters will feel it, too. They’ll go down with him.” She took a deep breath. “You can incapacitate them all at once, Harry.”

“Now that’s a cheerful thought, thanks,” Draco sneered. He sounded panicked.

“Not kill them.” Hermione bit her lip. “At least I don’t think so.”

“Great,” Draco snorted. “Just great.”

“Do you only ever think of yourself?” Startled, Ginny looked up. Harry’s fists were clenched around his wand, and he seemed ready to explode with anger. “This is just… Ginny, you… God, I can’t bloody stand this!”

He turned on his heel abruptly and stomped out. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. “Should I--” Ron started, but Ginny had already jumped to her feet.

She didn’t have a good feeling about seeking him out now, but it had to be done eventually and preferably before they all went into battle. “I’ll talk to him. Give me a few minutes.”

Harry had almost disappeared around a corner when Ginny emerged from the dungeon. He didn’t react when she called his name or even when she yelled at him to wait, so she had to sprint after him to catch up. Her body was hurting still with the after effects of Voldemort's terrible presence, and she only managed to reach him when he encountered a dead end in the maze that was the school basement.

“Harry,” she gasped, her sides aching with her uneven breaths. “Please, we need to talk.”

“No!”

She’d never seen him so angry, or at least not at her. At Draco sometimes, maybe, so this probably made sense now. He thought she was with Draco, even though it wasn’t true. Well, it was, but still it wasn’t like Harry thought. Everything was different now. But how was he supposed to know that? How could she make him understand?

“Please,” she begged for the sake of all they’d had. “Harry, listen to me. He’s not--”

“He’s Malfoy,” he spat. “That’s all I need to know, isn’t it?”

Ginny’s temper flared. He knew just as well as she did that things weren’t so black and white any more. She wished it were that easy. “No, it’s not,” she retorted. She tossed her hair in a jerky, exasperated move and saw him wince and blink rapidly, the furious glint in his green eyes replaced by hopeless desire. His look gave her a pang of guilt. “Harry,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, exactly?” His face was tight. He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking like he was forcefully suppressing something he wanted to say. He didn’t make this easy for her by yelling and letting her become angry at him in turn; instead, he waited for her to speak.

What could she say? Nothing less than the truth. He deserved that. But her relationship with Draco was so fresh and fragile, as she’d realised that morning, she didn’t want him to heap his scorn on it. Harry might not like it, but even in Malfoy, whom he’d despised for years, there was a spark of something beautiful, and Ginny wouldn’t allow him to turn that into something low and vile, to be trampled into the dust.

But what exactly was she sorry for? Liking Draco? Forgiving him? No, certainly not. For giving him something that Harry couldn’t have from her now, but would have just as richly deserved? Maybe. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” she said honestly. “And for not being able to talk to you before I started something with him.” For their breakup had never been complete, she realised that now. They had left each other hanging, too many unspoken promises and expectations between them. They had been children then, children in love. So silly. She almost smiled with the memory, but then she saw his face.

“Something?” he echoed, his voice rising anew. His face was scrunched up with pain and anger and he was breathing harshly, as if a great hot ball of agony was burning him up from the inside. “What’s that something between you then? Did you snog him?” He grew louder with each word he flung at her, sharp like slaps. “Did you sh--”

“Yes,” Ginny yelled, “yes, I did, and I’m sorry if you’re disappointed with me now, but it’s what I wanted and so I did it!”

“But we were--”

“We weren’t anything, Harry,” she cut him off, but her voice cracked a bit on his name. “Not just then. Not now. And I’m sorry for not wanting what you want any more.”

His lips clenched. “Is it because I went away?” he asked flatly.

“No,” she protested. Well, if he hadn’t left, things wouldn’t have happened as they had. But Ginny hadn’t kissed Draco, all those dark nights ago, because she’d been upset that Harry had left her. It had been much more than that, and it hadn’t had anything to do with Harry at all. It had been all Draco, stirring something inside her with his sharp words and sharper glances that she had long forgotten. Need, and being needed in return.

“Why then, Ginny? What can you possibly see in Malfoy?” He sounded so bitter. If she could have, Ginny would’ve liked to reach out and hug him at that moment. He didn’t deserve to want something and be denied, not after all he’d done for them and would still do.

But she wasn’t a prize or reward. He couldn’t win her, not like this. It would be wrong and unfair to them both. She clenched her hands at her sides, clamping down on the urge to reach out to him. That wouldn’t make things better. It’d just give him false hope. “I see him for what he is now,” she said softly, grasping the truth at last. “I see all of it, nothing more and nothing less.”

Harry’s mouth twisted viciously. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged wistfully. “I’m not sure yet. But if I don’t try to find out, I’ll regret it. I know that.”

She wished that he could understand her. For a moment, he was quiet, as if he was digesting her words, but then he stepped back from her and shook his head. That strange, hard expression was back, like he couldn’t stand to look at her without building up all his defences.

Ginny swallowed hard, hating this. She wanted to remain his friend. She wanted her friends and family and Draco, all at the same time, and she was still young enough to believe that might be possible.

But he didn’t seem to be.

“Can’t we--” she started, but he cut her off with an impatiently raised hand.

“No, I don’t think so,” he snapped and walked away before she could say anything else.

Draco was still sitting on the floor when she returned to the dungeon, looking pale and sullen, but the skin on his arm was healed. Hermione’s doing, probably. “…last time I ever help you,” Ginny heard him mutter and in spite of the horrific conversation she’d just had, she smiled a bit.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand, suddenly very eager to get out of there. Somewhere with windows, where they could look out and breathe. The air down here was hot and smelled faintly of sulphur. She felt stifled. Draco looked down at their entwined fingers, then up at her with surprise. “I need some air.”

“All right.” Amid Ron and Hermione’s apprehensive looks, he followed her out of the dungeon and into the hall. “What did you tell Potter?”

“Everything that’s happened,” she said tiredly.

“And what else?” he demanded.

She turned to him. He was wearing a scowl that she might’ve found vicious before she really got to know him, but now, all she saw was that he was scared of something and getting ready to put on a malicious façade just so she’d never know what he really felt. “What do you mean?” she asked curiously.

“What did you tell him is going to happen?”

“Between you and me?” He fidgeted, but nodded.

Ginny smiled lopsidedly. “I told him that there’s something between us and I need to find out what it is.”

A smug grin crept over his face. “Well, I know what’s going to happen between us now.”

She giggled, suddenly relieved. He wanted this too, and no matter what he kept saying, he wanted it to last as well. This wasn’t just a desperate shag before they all went into battle. Somehow, it had become something else entirely. “Oh? What’s that?” she asked, squealing with glee when he backed her up against the wall.

“This,” he said, and kissed her deeply.

Moaning, Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist when he lifted her up. He still tasted of the honey he’d had earlier. She licked at his lower lip, chuckling a bit.

“What are you laughing at?” he inquired sternly, annoyed that she’d interrupted their kiss.

“Nothing,” she giggled. “You’re just so sweet. It doesn’t suit you.”

He nipped her neck in punishment. “Ginny?”

“Hmm?” she murmured, stroking his hair gently.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

She could hardly focus on the words as he slowly covered every inch of her neck in moist kisses. It felt wonderful. “About what, love?”

The blissful sensation was cut short when he lifted his head to look at her. Ginny would’ve protested, but then she saw his eyes. They were positively glowing with desire, so bright and clear…quite beautiful, really.

He ground his hips against hers demandingly. “You know about what.”

She smirked. She liked when he got like this, when he really let her feel how much he wanted her. “Draco,” she purred, “if you hadn’t noticed, I’m currently wrapped around you in a very intimate manner.”

He mirrored her smug, playful expression. “Is that a yes?”

Snorting, she thumped his chest. “Find us a room.”

When he released her abruptly, she almost fell. He seemed very hurried, all of a sudden. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

They ran along a maze of corridors and upstairs via staircases that Ginny had never seen nor used, only slowing their steps to a dignified pace when they encountered other people. Luckily, it was almost midday and most students were either still in class or getting ready for lunch in the Great Hall. They climbed to the topmost floor where, panting, Draco stopped in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

He indicated a bare stretch of wall, and with a slight pang, Ginny realised that they were standing outside the Room of Requirement.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at her hesitantly, and she knew that he remembered the last time they’d been here, too - the night that Dumbledore had been killed.

Weirdly, she could look back at it now without any hard feelings at all. She’d never thought that would happen, but all the dark memories had been softened or covered with something new, something nice. Perhaps it was time to replace this last one too.

“Good idea,” Ginny said softly. Her body was already starting to hum with excitement at the prospect of being alone with him in a room that no one else could enter. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. It was amazing what he did to her. A bit silly too, but she wouldn’t miss it for the world. She loved that they could make each other feel like this. If they had lost their last bit of youthful, reckless desires, the whole fight would be pointless.

Draco smiled slightly. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to remember it for something pleasant. Now let me think.”

His brows knitted together, he walked past the bare stretch of wall that concealed the Room of Requirement three times and suddenly a door appeared. Draco opened it cautiously but when he made no move to enter, Ginny pushed past him, rolling her eyes.

What she saw made her stop in her tracks. The room wasn’t exceptionally large or elaborately decorated as she would’ve expected from him with his flair for the dramatic. It was a rather stuffed, cosy chamber with a big bed that looked like it had been carved out of one piece of dark, polished wood. A shimmering green rug covered the floor and there were books and magazines and, on a desk that matched the wood of the bed, writing materials and scrolls of parchment. Clothes were spilling out of a huge antique wardrobe.

There were far too many things, things they wouldn’t need. Perhaps in that way, it was like Draco after all - it came with a lot of baggage. It was a room to live in, not just one for a quick shag.

Ginny turned to him, ready to tease him a bit, but then she saw that he looked shell-shocked and her words died on her lips. “What?” she asked.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It’s my bedroom,” he said wondrously. “It’s turned itself into my bedroom at home.”

Ginny’s heart flip-flopped. He’d thought up a room for them, a room where he could take her to make love to her, and what his subconscious had come up with was his bedroom in his house. It was incredibly sweet, somehow. “I like it,” she said gently. “Maybe,” her voice wavered slightly, “you can show me the real thing, one day.”

He cocked his head. “Would you like that?”

She stepped closer to him and put her arms around his waist. It was impossible to talk about things like that without touching him, if just to reassure her that all this wasn’t just a dream. “Sure,” she whispered. “If you want me there.”

He held her very tightly. His eyes glittered with a fierce, possessive light and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I want you.”

She didn’t say another word. She kissed him softly, once, then grasped his hands and led him to the bed. The covers were turned down invitingly, and she made him lie down in the middle of the huge four poster, his fair hair shining on the dark velvet cushions. The mattress shifted when she climbed on top of him, straddled his hips and pulled out her wand.

“What--”

“Shh, be quiet. Trust me.”

He didn’t protest when she Vanished his clothes all at once. The corners of his lips curled upwards slightly, and she liked the tiny, pleased smile so much she kissed him there first. Next, a kiss to his pointy nose. He was growing into it, she thought. His features were still sharp, but now his face held the promise that he’d become a rather attractive man one day. Ginny smiled down at him fondly. She’d love to see what he’d be like in a decade, two. Perhaps she would get to see.

She kissed his cheeks, his chin, then moved down his body to caress his chest. When this war was over, she’d make him eat a few big meals, she decided, then realised with horror that she was channelling her mother. Pushing the thought far away, she licked a nipple and enjoyed his sudden, sharp intake of breath. She’d let him do all these wonderful things to her the night before. Now it was her turn. Sitting up, she raked her nails down his chest, wondering where to begin.

Draco seemed to have no problem deciding. The moment she sat up, he started to pull at the buttons of her blouse, opening it eagerly and pushing up the awful camisole she was still wearing. Perhaps the Room of Requirement could produce something lacy and pretty, she thought faintly, but then he was fondling her breasts and she didn’t much feel like getting out of bed to change into something more seductive.

She didn’t have to. She could feel his body tighten and tense beneath her, the movement of his hands grow edgy with impatience. His reaction to her excited her, eliciting an answering twinge deep inside her belly. Quickly, before she could become too distracted, she swatted his hands away and leaned forward a bit, staring into his eyes.

“My turn,” she pouted playfully.

He smirked. “Get to it, then.”

She did. Her bare skin felt nice against his, soft and warm, so she wriggled out of the camisole completely and draped herself over him, chest to chest. Draco made a growling noise at the back of his throat that amused her - so easy to please, who would’ve thought. She rubbed herself against him and savoured his low moan. She wanted to hear more of those.

When she slithered down his body, she heard his breath hitch in his throat. Pleased, Ginny continued where she’d left off, kissing his collarbone, flicking her tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat, licking her way slowly down his breastbone. When she reached his belly button, she stopped. She could feel that he was really, really excited, and if she continued down this path, she wouldn’t know what to do.

She looked up at him. He was watching her from the pillows, his face pink and glowing, and he seemed so eager and anxious that any nervousness left her with a soft little snort. She couldn’t do wrong. His face said quite clearly that there were only two categories in this: ‘excellent' and 'outstanding'.

Smiling, she sat up again and slid down his body till she was straddling his thighs. Then she reached out very carefully and trailed her fingertips down his lower belly, brushing his erection with the side of her hand. When she touched it more firmly, he gasped. Encouraged, Ginny stroked him gently as she’d done the previous night, before he’d stopped her.

But this time, damn him, he did it again. “No.”

“Why not?” she moaned. “I want to.”

“Yes, and I want you to,” he said, furrowing his brow in aggravation. “But if you do, it’s going to be over too soon.”

His irritated tone made her smile smugly. “I don’t mind.”

But when she reached for him again, he caught her wrist and, with strength that was astonishing in someone so thin, rolled her over so she was on her back and he was pushing her into the mattress with his weight. “I do.”

When he kissed one of her nipples, she completely forgot to protest, and it wasn’t till he was pulling off her skirt and tights and knickers that she remembered she had wanted to be in charge, this time. “Hey,” she complained. “This is not fair.”

“Ginny,” he deadpanned, “I just want what’s best for you.”

Laughing, she let him continue, and soon her giggles turned into soft, breathy gasps. He had good hands, she decided faintly, talented hands. He was very good with his mouth, but she’d already known that. His lips and fingers were sending shockwaves through her body until she couldn’t stop trembling in his arms, pleasure exploding in a thousand spots at the tiniest caress.

Only when he moved to cover her body with his did she stop him. “No,” she gasped. “I get to be on top now.”

Without a word of protest, he rolled them over and held her hips as she slowly pushed down on him.

And this time, it was damn near perfect.

Afterwards, Ginny lay on his chest, unable to move even an inch, unwilling to leave this little bit of peace and quiet behind just yet. No one came to look for them and for that she was grateful.

“Does your room have food?”

“I don’t know. I guess it will if I want it to. What would you like?”

She debated extricating herself from his embrace, sitting up, eating, but then decided that she didn’t feel like it. “Nothing,” she murmured. “Let’s just stay like this.”

He chuckled, but continued rubbing and stroking the smooth skin of her back.

Ginny knew that if she didn’t focus, she’d fall asleep under his massaging hands, and she couldn’t really do that now. This was stolen time and even though she was willing to take it no matter what anyone else thought, she knew that she had to at least remain alert.

“Tell me something,” she whispered into his ear, her cheek pressed comfortably against his sweaty shoulder. He smelled nice, she thought, rubbing her nose against his slick skin.

“Like what?” His voice was muffled in her hair.

“Something about you. A secret,” Ginny breathed, shivering pleasantly. “Something no one knows.”

“Hmm.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Well. I never shagged anyone before you.”

She giggled. “That’s not a secret.”

His hand slid down her back and pinched her round arse hard enough to make her squeal. “No one else knows that, just you. Now you tell me something secret.”

She gave that some thought before she spoke. She wanted him to find out more about her, wanted them to get to know each other, but slowly, steadily, with all the time in the world ahead of them. She wanted to have more moments like this, pressed up against each other, sticky and sore and sated, talking of light and unimportant things, but without the gloominess that hung over them now. She wanted him to want that too.

So for now, she decided to tell him something recent, something she’d never want to talk about again when this was over. She felt ashamed for it. “Your cuffs - remember when I said I’d make them give you a zap, if you didn’t do what I wanted?”

The mattress bounced gently when he shrugged. “Yes?”

“I lied,” she told him sheepishly. Not that it mattered much, but somehow, she felt like she should tell him. “I couldn’t. I don’t know how they work.”

Draco chuckled harshly. “That’s all right. I would’ve told you the same thing.”

“Well, but unlike me, you actually would have used them,” she retorted, lifting her head to look into his eyes with an air of seriousness.

He laughed harder. “Oh, please. Do you think your Bat-Bogey Hex wasn’t painful? You didn’t hesitate casting that. And that’s all right. You need to be able to hurt people sometimes. You’d be useless in a fight if you couldn’t.” He swallowed hard, sobering. “My aunt once told me Potter couldn’t cast a Cruciatus. He’ll be sorry for that before the final battle is over.”

She poked him in the ribs. “Those curses are unforgivable. You’re not supposed to use them, no matter the situation--”

“But how’s he going to kill the Dark Lord?” Draco asked sarcastically. “Tickle him to death?”

Ginny chewed on her lower lip unhappily. She had no answer to that.

“Don’t look like that,” he told her gruffly.

“Like what?” Her voice was quavering, she realised to her utter horror.

“Like you’re going to cry.” He scowled. “I don’t find it nearly as amusing as I would’ve thought.”

She snorted wetly. “So now you are telling me to be happy and hopeful?”

“Well.” He shrugged. “What can I say? You have convinced me.”

Her tears spilled over as desperate, hysterical laughter began to rock her body. “You’re… That’s…” A lump in her throat was choking her. She’d wanted him to want this too, so badly, and now that he did, she realised for the first time what she could lose. If Harry failed… If any of them were just unlucky…

Sighing, he put his arms around her and held her awkwardly. “Stop that. I don’t like it,” he whispered in her ear, but that only made her sob louder. “Ginny, damn--”

There was a knock on the door, even though nobody could possibly see it from outside. “Ginny?” Luna’s voice came, muffled, through the solid wall. “Are you in there?”

Startled, Ginny slid off him and hastily pulled on her clothes. Her body felt cold after the sudden loss of contact, her legs were shaking and her eyes still watering. She was in no fit state to be seen by anyone. “Yes, Luna?”

“Ah, good, I was hoping you were here, I looked everywhere else… You need to come downstairs,” Luna called. “Harry says it’s starting.”

Ginny’s stomach dropped. She stumbled the few steps to the door on shaky legs and pulled back the latch. When she saw her friend’s face, she knew that something must be amiss. Luna’s eyes were sad and serious, their faraway dreaminess gone. “What’s starting, Luna?”

“The battle,” Luna said gently. “And Harry says you should stop shagging Draco and come down. I think he wants to make a speech.”

Flushing, Ginny nodded. “We’ll be right there, Luna. Sorry.”

Nodding, Luna drifted away without another word, down the hall and out of sight. When Ginny turned around, Draco was standing in the middle of the room, messily dressed, clutching at his left arm. “It hurt all day, after that damn locket exploded… But now…”

She hurried over to him to peer at his face anxiously. “Now it hurts more? Is it bad?”

He gave her a look. “Of course it’s bad. He thrives on pain.” He hissed, clenching his fist. “Potter is right. It must be starting.”

They had known this day would come for a long time, but now that it was there, Ginny didn’t feel at all prepared. She stared at Draco’s pale, grim face, scared out of her mind. What if he had been right all along and he died a gory death on the battlefield, slain by his own aunt? What if she did? What if…

“You didn’t want to run,” he reminded her, as if he was reading her thoughts. His voice was oddly gentle. “Now it’s too late.”

“We couldn’t have.” She sobbed once, then banished her fear and desperation to the deepest depths of her heart. She needed to be strong now. They both did. She grasped one of his cold hands and squeezed tightly. “It wouldn’t have been right.”

Draco snorted softly. “Listen,” he said, tipping up her chin. “If it gets really rough… If Potter loses… Don’t be brave.”

She shivered violently. “Draco, I--”

“Please.” His pale eyes burned with desperation. “We’re trying it your way first, but if that fails...”

Ginny drew a shuddering breath, thinking of her family, her friends. But if everything went wrong… She had no strength left to tell him that they wouldn’t fail, not now, in what might be their last moments together. “All right,” she choked out. “Yes. I’ll run then. But not without you.”

“Ginny--” he protested, but then she was kissing him, clutching at his shoulders and, after a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back wildly.

They were panting when they broke apart. “Not without you,” Ginny gasped. She looked up at him, caressing his hollow cheeks, trying to convey everything she thought and felt with one last, lingering look. “I’m so in love with you.”

His gasp was loud in the silence of the room. For a few seconds, they stared at each other, then suddenly, she couldn’t stand this any longer. If she looked at him for another moment, she would break down and not be able to pick herself up again. So she turned and ran down the dark corridor, hearing him call after her faintly through the roaring rush of blood in her ears.

When she reached the Great Hall, her sides aching and her breaths burning in her lungs and saw her mother by the door, she didn’t think. Crying out with relief, she flung herself in Molly’s arms and squeezed, hard. “Mum!” She heard quick steps behind her, and then someone was hugging them both. “Dad!”

“Ginny!” Molly whispered tearfully. “Oh, I’d so hoped you could be left out of this…”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone is coming, dear,” her mother said. “The whole Order and all the Ministry’s forces and civilians, too. Harry’s speech is being broadcast over the Wireless.”

Only now did Ginny notice that the Hall was full of people who didn’t usually belong at Hogwarts. Men and women in Auror uniform, Ministry officials in business robes, parents hugging their children, strangers in normal street clothes. All around the Hall, the Floo must’ve been activated. From the many grates, throngs of people were emerging while at the other end of the large room, Harry stood before the teachers’ table, speaking in a Sonorified voice.

“…time has come to fight at last, and Hogwarts is the site of the final battle after all,” he was saying. Beside him, Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously. “I know you’re scared. We all are. But Voldemort can be defeated.” Several people winced at the name. In a corner, Ginny saw Mrs Malfoy shiver. She looked back over her shoulder warily, but Draco was nowhere in sight.

“Over the last months, we have taken down his defences, weakened him and now, if we all stand together, I believe that we can win,” Harry finished. “So let us go and do it.”

The growing crowd broke into raucous applause as he wove his way towards the door. Many wanted to shake his hand, express words of encouragement, but Harry looked glum and determined and hardly seemed to notice what was going on around him.

Only when Arthur touched his shoulder did he seem to waken from his trance. “Good luck, son,” Mr Weasley said, voice rough with emotion.

“We believe in you, Harry,” his wife chimed in. Her chin was wobbling with suppressed tears. “Oh, come here.” She pressed him to her impressive bosom, hugging him fiercely, and Harry smiled slightly.

“See you afterwards,” he told her, patting her shoulder. “Ginny.”

She flinched under his unexpected scrutiny, suddenly feeling like she was eleven all over again, completely tongue-tied in his presence. “Harry,” she forced out.

Her family looked on indulgently. It was unbearable. Mercifully, he seemed to think so too. Grasping her arm, he led her out of the Hall, around a few corners till they were finally alone. “Listen,” he told her there. “I nagged Slughorn till he gave me what Felix Felicis he had. It wasn’t much - Ron and Hermione already had a sip--” He held up a small, half-empty vial.

“No,” Ginny protested, seeing where this was going. “Drink it. You need it. If you don’t have a load of luck today, none of us will live, and--”

“Half of this is for you.” He uncorked the vial and pressed it into her hand. “Drink, Ginny.”

Tears stung in her eyes. She felt so humbled by him, she wanted to fall to the floor and cry. “Harry, don’t. I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are,” he said loudly, angrily. “And if Malfoy is telling you otherwise--”

“No, it’s just…” She sighed deeply. “I don’t deserve this from you.”

He rolled his eyes and, for a moment, he was the boy she’d loved, stupidly cute and a little awkward. “I can be angry at you later, Ginny. I just know if I don’t give this to you now and something happens, I couldn’t live with that. I want you to have it.”

Ginny stared up at him, willing him to understand. “I’m sorry I made you unhappy,” she told him. “But I’m not sorry that I did what I did.”

“I know,” Harry said curtly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Drink it.”

She took the vial and tossed back half its contents, taking care to leave the larger part for him.

When she handed it back, he drained it, swallowing hard. “There. Now let’s go.”

But he didn’t move. He stared down at her unblinkingly and even in the dimness of their secluded corner, she could see how sad and wistful his eyes were. Those beautiful green eyes that she’d fancied so much… God, how had they become the way they were? How had their youth gone by so fast? Suddenly Ginny felt old and tired, mature beyond her years. No one their age should have to say words of goodbye to the people they loved. It was too cruel. “Harry…”

“I love you,” he told her earnestly, raising his hand to cut her off when she opened her mouth. “No, don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I know,” Ginny cried. She hadn’t wanted to shed any more tears, but a single one was slowly trickling down her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll live.” He smiled darkly. “Or so I hope. Let’s go before the Felix wears off again.”

The moments when the large oak doors swung open were the longest Ginny remembered. Hogwarts’ large entrance hall was packed with silent, sombre people, and as one, the enormous crowd stared through the widening gap between the doors, outside.

At the horizon, the sun was setting in shades of orange and pink and purple, as if the sky itself was burning up and flames were dropping, hissing, on the surface of the lake. Against the dazzling backdrop stood hundreds of dark, hooded figures, stretching into the distance in a long line that wrapped around the school grounds like a chain.

Ginny’s heart pounded in her throat as she was carried outside with the crowd. Halfway across the grounds, the group led by Harry stopped. Behind them, the large doors gave an ominous sound as the bolts slid in place, locking the youngest children inside. She looked around, but Draco was still nowhere to be seen. Her stomach churned anxiously. She’d seen McGonagall take off Mrs Malfoy’s cuffs back there in the hall and could only hope that the Headmistress had done the same for Draco. He had to defend himself, after all.

As did they all, including all but the youngest students. From the corner of her eye, she saw several whom she had taught in the DA and who must’ve refused to stay behind. She felt a surge of pride but it was swiftly stifled when far ahead, Harry raised his hand.

‘Stay back, wait,’ he seemed to indicate, and a minute of silent immobility turned into two, three, till there was sudden movement in the chain of Death Eaters.

A high-pitched voice shrieked a curse and with a loud, ear-splitting bang, Hagrid’s hut, meticulously rebuilt just the year before, went up in flames again. A cry went through the crowd and then the Death Eaters were moving, streaming in through the abandoned gates.

For a moment, Ginny panicked, wondering why the Aurors let them in like this, but then she realised that once they were inside and engaged in battle, no one could Disapparate. This truly would be a fight to the end.

Shivering, she stumbled forward, breaking into a run when everyone else did, and then the two groups clashed, curses flashing and screams breaking the tense silence.

With that strange, uncanny luck that came with the Felix Felicis, they all went past Ginny, if by mere inches. She dodged a tall Death Eater’s curse and fired a Stunning Spell at him that made him keel over and fall on his face. The next one was hit with Impedimenta; the next with another Stunner.

The flashes all around her were like bolts of lightning in the darkening sky. They made her head spin; she ran hard into someone else, but when she whirled around, it was just another student, who looked like he was on the verge of panic.

“Look out!” Ginny screamed and fired another Stunner over his shoulder at a Death Eater who’d been aiming at them. The young boy stumbled and fell over, retching, but Ginny had no time to care for him: a blinding green light zoomed right past her, and she knew that the first Killing Curse has just missed her by a hair’s breadth.

She whirled around and as she threw a full body bind on the cackling Death Eater before her, her blood pounding in her ears, she thanked Harry for the drop of Potion that had probably just saved her life.

Who knew how long she had till it wore off, though? Last time they had all shared half a bottle and they’d still had an hour or so, but-

A flash of white blond hair appeared at the corner of her eye, but when she turned, she saw nothing but a sea of black robes and struggling figures, illuminated by the sinister light of blinding hexes and the fire that burned Hagrid’s hut to ashes.

Heat prickled on her face, and she realised that she had strayed too close to the burning house. The wind picked up; fire rained down on the battlefield, falling from the sky like heaven’s own punishment. The flames licked at her skin. Again, the flash of white; this time she saw it more clearly, almost golden in the fiery glow.

“Draco!” she screamed, elbowing aside whoever stood in her way, friend and foe alike. She tripped and stumbled over something soft; a body? And if so, whose? But there was no time to look. All she knew was that she had to find him. If she were lucky, maybe she could help him; maybe her luck would keep him safe too. “Draco!”

And suddenly, the way ahead of her cleared and she saw him, moving backwards as a hooded figure fired spell after spell at him. He was parrying them, but he had fared much worse than Ginny - his sleeve was torn and bloody and the fringe of his hair was singed.

“You’re not doing it right!” the Death Eater screamed, each blow becoming more vicious than the last. It was a woman’s voice and with a pang of terror, Ginny recognised Mrs Lestrange’s face beneath the black hood. She had taken off her mask; her face was skull-like, maniacally twisted and cruel, and her teeth were bared in a horrifying smile. “This is not what I taught you! You’re not worthy, you pathetic little boy! Cissy should just have strangled you in the cradle--”

“No!” he screamed, his resistance strengthening anew as his temper flared.

Mrs Lestrange laughed shrilly. “Or better yet, she never should’ve let that disloyal traitor of a husband near her bed--”

“No!” Draco roared. “Crucio!”

His aunt was throw back, yelling in shock and rage, but then the curse stopped abruptly as Draco’s strength seemed to leave him. He fell to his knees panting, and Ginny bolted from her spot screaming, as Mrs Lestrange climbed to her feet again.

“How…dare you…” she choked out, blood gushing from her nose. “Die, you disgusting--”

“No!” Ginny screamed and threw herself in front of him, hoping and praying that the Potion hadn’t worn off…that she could save him yet… Their bodies collided painfully, and the impact threw them both to the ground. He was squirming beneath her, struggling and shouting at her to get off, but Ginny clutched his shoulders tightly, hoping…hoping…

“Avada--”

But Bellatrix never finished the curse. Her body hit the ground with a thud and behind her, the dirty, panting figure of Neville Longbottom appeared. He was clutching a large rock, which he’d used, apparently, to strike Mrs Lestrange down. “Ginny!” he gasped, dropping the rock. It was dark with blood and for a long, hate-filled moment, Ginny wished with all her heart that the witch was dead. “Lost…my wand…Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she sobbed out, raising her head to look at Draco. He was battered and bruised, but he was alive. The Felix had saved them both.

He was also looking at her with no small degree of fury. The firelight was reflected in his pale eyes, and they seemed to burn with rage. “Didn’t I tell you not to be brave?” he snarled, shaking her shoulders.

If she hadn’t know that he was scared out of his mind, she would’ve punched him. “Didn’t I tell you not to get killed?” she snapped back at him instead. She scrambled off him and pulled him to his feet. “Come on…we can’t just lie here.” They were at the back side of the hut, out of sight of most others, but there was no time to lose. Ginny rounded on her friend, who was still standing, frozen, over Mrs Lestrange’s body, staring down at her. “Neville, you lost your wand again?”

“Yes,” Neville said sheepishly. He bent to pick up Bellatrix’s wand. “Petrificus Totalus.” And even though the wand wasn’t his, Mrs Lestrange went rigid as if she’d been petrified.

Draco was breathing harshly. “Longbottom…” he muttered. “Thanks.”

Neville started. “Umm…”

There was a flash of light at Ginny’s peripheral vision. “Look out!” she yelled a second before something huge exploded beside them, covering them in debris and smoke. She looked around wildly, couldn’t see anything, just hear Neville coughing and, as if through a haze, people beginning to scream. The smoke burned in her eyes; she felt something hot and sticky running down her arms and realised that she was covered in splinters which had torn her skin. She was bleeding, and it hurt, and she couldn’t see-

And then, Draco started to howl.

It wasn’t like any scream of pain - no, this was something different, something gut-wrenching and horrible that seemed to tear her heart right out of her chest and echoed in her ears so loudly that she was sure she would hear it till her dying day.

And it wasn’t just him. Beyond the screams of fear and pain, a terrible chorus of shrieks and moans rose in the air, travelling with the wind, wrapping her up, seeping into her bones till she had to cover her ears in terror. She could still hear it penetrating every last defence she had and only the thought that it must be Voldemort’s pain doing this to the Death Eaters kept her from falling to her knees and passing out.

Harry. Ron. Hermione. They were out there beyond the smoke and the wall of screaming, fighting. They would save them.

“Draco,” she gasped. She could hardly hear her own voice. Unable to penetrate the blindness around her, she reached out and felt her way forward, stumbling with every other step. There were bodies, so many bodies twitching on the ground, and she had to get to him, she had to, he couldn’t be far and he needed her-

It stopped.

For a moment, Ginny thought that she’d gone deaf, that her eardrums had burst with the pain and horror. But then the smoke around her lifted slowly and she saw that the masked, robed figures were still on the ground.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around once, twice, searching, but everything was covered in ashes and debris, the bodies on the ground lifeless lumps of grey upon grey upon grey. “Lumos,” she forced out in a trembling voice and the tip of her wand lit up.

Beside her, there was a cough; she turned sharply and saw Neville sit up, clutching his head. “Oh, Ginny…”

“Neville…” She wanted to kneel down to see if he was all right, but her limbs wouldn’t comply. She felt like she wanted to move in several different directions at once, her heart pounding with panic. “Where’s Draco?” she sobbed out at last.

“Malfoy…he was here…” Neville murmured, but Ginny barely heard him. She turned over the first body, saw that it wasn’t him and rushed to the next. Not him. Not him. Not him. Not-

She bumped hard into someone else and cried out. The flash of fair hair made her stomach drop with terrified hope, but then she raised her wand and saw that she had encountered Draco’s mother. She was unharmed, as far as Ginny could see, but her face was paper-white and her eyes wide and teary. “Where is he?” she demanded desperately, clutching Ginny’s wrist in an iron grip as the younger witch made to hurry on.

“I don’t know!” Ginny snapped back. “Let me go!”

There were voices in the distance, coming closer. Mrs Malfoy’s eyes lit up with a bright, feverish light. She let go of Ginny brusquely and pushed past her. “Draco?” “…have to Stun them before they come to,” she heard Hermione’s voice, not far away, laced with hysteric relief. “Ron, help Harry… Molly, Arthur, thank God!”

Ginny stumbled forward a few more steps, tripped over something hard and unyielding and fell, her hands sinking deeply into the ground that was littered with shards. It was too much. She broke down where she was and started to bawl. So it was over. They had won, it was over, and now she couldn’t find Draco…

Around her, people started to move, whisper, pass on the message that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead. Cheers began in the distance, shrill and loud and joyous.

But even as she forced herself to crawl on, Ginny felt nothing but dread. What if this was it? What if she couldn’t find him or she found him and he was dead, her luck having run out early? What good would this world be to her after she’d had a glimpse of what could be, and what--

“Ginny…”

She whirled around. Someone was moving, close to her, and that voice, though it was hoarse and pained, was unmistakably--

“Draco?”

She crawled faster, unmindful of the splinters that cut into her hands. Finally, she bumped into a warm, hard body, and when she raised her wand to look at his face, she saw that it was him. He was covered with sods of grass and dirt, but he was alive. Alive and muttering. “Ow.”

“Oh God,” she sobbed, overwhelming relief flooding her body. “Oh God, you bastard, you scared me so much…” The rest of her nonsensical blabbering was lost in the folds of his dirty robes as she embraced him. “I heard you scream…”

“Yeah… My arm…” he muttered. He lifted it gingerly, pushed back the sleeve, and what he saw made his eyes go wide. “The Mark…it’s gone,” he gasped, turning his arm this way and that so the light of her wand tip illuminated his pale skin. It was completely smooth and white, without any trace of the horrible image that had marred it before. “It felt like it was pulled right out of me…whatever He put in.”

“He’s gone,” she told him. Realisation of what that meant seeped into her consciousness only slowly. Voldemort was gone. They were free, he was free. It was over. Suddenly, the world didn’t seem large enough to hold all of her joy. It was over and they were both alive. She laughed incredulously. “See? We’ve made it.”

“Ginny.” She felt him swallow laboriously and helped him to sit up when he began to cough. “My…mother?” he choked out.

“I saw her,” she said quickly. “She was looking for you.”

The terrible look in his eyes eased a bit. “Good, but--”

Giggling, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him wildly. “No buts,” she whispered. “We’ve made it. And now we can do whatever we want.”

“This is not over,” he reminded her, and the fact that he could still be gloomy and pessimistic at a moment like this only made her hug him harder, almost bubbling over with laughter and love. The whole world was changed, but some things, the important things, remained the same. “They’ll still put me on trial--”

“You helped,” she cut in. “They couldn’t have opened the locket without you. That’ll count for something.”

“You think?” he asked doubtfully.

Ginny grinned at him. “Yes,” she said. “And you know I’m always right.”

He snorted. “And what about Potter?”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that touched her more than any sappy declaration of feeling ever could have. She patted his chest, smiling into his eyes. “He’s been fine without me. And he’s a hero now. Lots of women will throw themselves at him. He doesn’t need me.” She took a deep breath. “But you do.”

A tiny smile curled his lips. “Oh, really?” he drawled.

“Yes,” she insisted loftily. “No one else would be willing to put up with you. You’d be a mess without me. A very grumpy mess.”

He made a noncommittal sound, but his eyes were sparkling like he was truly happy. “I’m never grumpy,” he informed her haughtily. “It is unbecoming.”

Ginny giggled. His patented disdainful drawl was back. Normality would be restored in no time. But now, it’d be better. They could tease each other while they lay in bed together.

“It’s all right. I like you even when you’re grumpy,” she said, draping her arms around his neck. “I’ll keep you around.” For a few moments, they looked at each other with an air of seriousness. There were a thousand things Ginny wanted to say to him, but they could all wait. She would, in time. She cocked her head. “That is, if you’d like?”

Instead of an answer, she got a kiss, deep and hot and passionate, and he didn’t let go of her even when footsteps and voices appeared around them, whistling and jeering. He only held her more tightly and they sat there for a long time wrapped up in each other, as dust settled over the battlefield.

At last, the world was at peace.

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.