Chapter Three
"I hate this." Hermione said.
"I know you do." Ron said finally. He smiled at her. "I do too."
"Then how can you stay so calm?" Hermione asked, whirling around and fixing an accusing stare on him.
"Because I have faith in our Ministry of Magic." Ron said lazily. "I also have faith in Harry." He added shrewdly.
Hermione flushed. "I have faith in Harry." She defended.
"Good." Ron replied. "Because he deserves it."
"I know he does." She said quietly. "But I'm scared for him anyway."
Ron sat up and hugged her. "Don't worry about Harry. Harry has been waiting for this all his life. It's what he was meant to do. I don't know how to explain it. But it's right."
"What if You-Know-Who kills Harry?" Hermione asked angrily. "I'm not like you. I can't accept that if You-Know-Who kills Harry that it was the right thing to happen. How would you feel, Ron, if Harry was killed?"
She saw his lips tighten. "I would hate it." Ron said simply. "But it wouldn't surprise me."
He stopped Hermione from speaking. "Someone has to die, Hermione. We just have to have faith that it will be You-Know-Who and not Harry."
"Good wins out over evil?"
A quick smile. "We can't keep Harry from doing what he was meant to do."
"Battle with You-Know-Who?"
"Yes."
Hermione smiled back at him reluctantly, trying to lighten the mood with a change of subject: "did you notice how good-looking Draco Malfoy has become?"
He'd noticed more than that. He'd noticed the way Malfoy had followed his little sister into the kitchen. He'd also noticed that the two of them had stayed in there for quite a while. And when they had come out, how unconsciously the two of them had stood together, as if they were allies instead of enemies, a sturdy, united front against the rest of the world.
He said, "Yes." He added dryly, "Not a wormy little ferret anymore."
"Grew out of his wormy ferretness, I suppose." Hermione sighed again. "He's got quite a way about him."
Ron frowned. That was what he was worried about. He didn't want his sister getting mixed up with a Malfoy. Any Malfoy. Not now, when he knew from his father that the Malfoy name was all that was saving Lucius Malfoy from being summarily arrested and executed. And who was to say Draco Malfoy was any different -
"Do you think so?" he settled for saying.
"Oh yes." Hermione asked, "What do you think he was in the Ministry for?"
"Harry told us to forget he was ever there," said Ron, his tone final.
_____
Ginny watched Harry and Ron rummage. Ron had joined the Ministry the week before, as had many other wizards and witches.
It was official.
The war had begun.
It was open now, open war between Voldemort's - she'd gotten used to everyone saying "Voldemort" in the Ministry instead of "You-Know-Who" - ranks and the rest of the wizarding world.
Harry and Ron were suiting up for an attack against the Dementors. Their brooms were being fitted with accelerators and defense spells. The rest of the wizards were suiting up on the first floor. Harry had come up to deposit a document that Hopper had asked him to drop in.
"Wait." Ginny said suddenly, as they started to go out the door. "I'll come down with you."
Ron slanted her a look of surprise. Lately Ginny had been going to great lengths to avoid Harry, even when he was with other people. She was tired of it. Never mind that Harry had kissed her and was now pretending he didn't even know her. Never mind that he was a smarmy, annoying, hateful bastard of a git.
She was just going to act like a mature adult and pretend he wasn't there.
Ginny came down the last step behind Ron and Harry and watched as they walked off to collect their wands, which were being checked.
She looked around the room. Dozens of wizards milled around, many of them wizards she recognized from Hogwarts. She knew from Bernard that wizards from all around the world were rallying together and fighting in their own countries.
"Ginny Weasley?"
Ginny looked up and saw a thin, angular face looking at her. "Colin?"
The young man laughed and held out his hand. "Hi! I haven't seen you in years!"
Ginny laughed as well. "No, you haven't." She shook his hand. "What have you been doing?"
"This and that." Colin said evasively. He grinned engagingly. "Which basically means mucking about doing nothing."
"Good for you." Ginny said, smiling. "Are you -" she waved a hand vaguely. "Part of this?"
Colin's eyes twinkled. "Everyone's got to do his part."
Ginny thought about that as Colin moved away. Yes, she thought. Everyone has to do their part.
"Ginny, we're leaving now." Ron said, jerking her out of her thoughts. He gestured to the dozen men lined up near the entrance. "Hopper wants to go now."
Ginny looked at her big brother, who looked so strong and reassuring in his simplicity. He grinned down at her. "All right?"
Ginny surprised both of them by pulling him into a hug. "All right." She said against his chest. She let go and smoothed out his robes sheepishly. "Sorry."
Ron was red. "All right." He repeated. He gave her a stern look. "And we'll talk about this thing with Harry when I get back."
"Aye aye." Ginny mocked.
Ron scowled at her. Then he jogged off, pausing only once to grin at her over his shoulder. It was an appealing grin, a grin that said, How did I, Ron Weasley, get here anyway?
_____
She never saw her brother alive again.
She remembered everything with a startling clarity that she wished would blur and give her some blessed forgetfulness.
But she remembered.
She remembered Harry coming back, his face cut, his eyes almost numb. His eyes telling the world that he wished he was numb.
He walked towards her and Hermione, who had gotten up, her hand flying to her throat, her eyes widening, knowing what was going to come -
She remembered him saying, "Ron's dead. They killed him." With startling bluntness, and an almost childlike truthfulness. She remembered Hermione giving a cry, so full of pain that she flinched to hear it. She remembered thinking that her mother and father would have cried just like that if they had been there. She remembered wondering if Bill and Charlie would know -
And she remembered her loneliness.
Hermione had fallen into Harry's arms, and they had clung together, lost in their grief, shutting her out.
She remembered thinking she would never care if Ron, Hermione and Harry shut her out again, if only Ron would come back.
But he would never come back.
She had sat down, by herself.
Her parents had come, with Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins.
Her parents had each other.
Bill and Charlie had each other - Percy had his wife.
Fred and George had each other.
She was alone.
Ron wasn't there to sit by her and grin and join her, their bond of being the youngest and the ones always left out of their older brothers' actions always there.
They'd grown away from each other - he had Harry and Hermione, and later she had had her own friends - but they'd still been brother and sister, and he'd been the closest to her . . .
And now he was gone . . .
And all she had to hold on to was herself, as around her, her family mourned.
He was gone . . .
_____
Draco sat at the dining table, eating his lunch with precision.
"The Dark Lord will be coming for dinner tomorrow." His father said. He fixed a cold stare on Draco. "I trust you will be here to honour him."
Draco let the words hang in the air for a while before he answered. "Of course, Father." He said, his words heavy with sarcasm. The man sitting across from him was not his father. The man sitting across from him had no claim on him. He had given that right up the day he'd wilfully murdered his wife.
And Draco's mother.
"Good." His father picked up his wine goblet and drank delicately. "He desires our help."
"In what?" Draco asked, purposely bored.
"It is not my place to discuss it." His father paused. "He will tell you himself when he arrives."
"Or perhaps it isn't your place to know." Draco murmured blandly.
His father's voice sharpened. "I will not tolerate insolence from you."
Draco met his father's eyes, his own as hard as flint, but he did not speak. There was no need.
There was no need to antagonize his father now. Later would provide plenty of opportunity.
Draco's hand tightened on his own goblet briefly.
Yes, later.
He got through the rest of the meal without conversation, then stood up to leave. He couldn't stand this house anymore.
The stench of murder hung heavy.
_____
When he arrived at the Ministry of Magic, cloaked in invisibility, he was surprised at its seeming silence. The Ministry was never silent. He hoped Voldemort hadn't attacked. He didn't want to be deprived of watching the bastard fall.
Draco cautiously went up the lift and waited impatiently for the doors to open. When they did, he stepped out, his wand drawn, his movements quick.
And then he stopped.
The Weasley family sat before him, all in various stages of a grief so potent that Draco could taste it, the stringent, bitter taste. His gaze swept over all of them -
_____
Potter and Granger, clinging to each other as if they would collapse if they let go, Arthur and Molly Weasley, the former just holding the latter as she wept into his shoulder, his face dazed. Bill and Charlie Weasley, sitting together, not touching, simply staring at the ground, and the twins, who looked Siamese at the moment, joined at the side . . .
Then there was Ginny Weasley.
She sat slightly apart from the rest of her family, looking so alone that it was as if there was a thick wall between her and them. She was hunched over her knees, her long cartoon-red hair hanging over her face, her hands tightly gripping her seat.
They were obviously oblivious to his entrance, so Draco stepped forward and let his Invisibility Cloak slip off his shoulders, his gaze still fixed on Ginny Weasley. He felt curiously, inexplicably drawn to her, as if he had to go to her and nothing could stop him. She reminded him of someone -
Recognition of the resemblance shocked him.
Himself.
Himself when his father had informed him that his mother was dead.
Alone . . .
So alone . . .
He felt a sudden heated urge to slap her family and tell them to their ignorant faces that she needed comfort as well . . .
For what?
He took a few decisive steps forward and knelt in front of the woman who sat so alone. "Weasley." He shook her slightly. "Weasley."
"What?" Ginny asked wearily, looking up at him. Her eyes were dry, Draco saw and he felt an unpleasant tingle at the base of his spine when he asked,
"What happened?"
Ginny answered in a strangely normal way, as if surprised that he even had to ask. "Ron's dead."
"How did he die?"
"The Dementors killed him."
Draco leaned back on his heels, pausing a moment to digest this. He'd known the Ministry was planning an attack on the Dementors, he just hadn't thought it would be just then.
"When?"
Ginny looked at him again and looked back down at her lap. "Just now."
Draco glanced around again - the Weasley family was still lost in their grief. "Come on." He pulled her gently but forcefully to her feet. "We're leaving."
"Where are we going?" Ginny asked. Draco didn't like her odd acceptance of everything. He suspected she was in shock.
He led her into the elevator and wrapped his Invisibility Cloak around the both of them, uneasy at her lack of reaction. He didn't want to be seen exiting the Ministry. He jabbed the down button before answering, "Just across the road."
He had to lead her across the road and order a cup of coffee for her, after hastily removing his Cloak. He surreptitiously asked the plump waitress to put a few spoonfuls of brandy into it. He had an awkward time subduing the waitress's indignant squawks, as she apparently didn't trust his motives, but he succeeded finally. He slipped onto the bench beside her and studied her, feeling slightly out of his element. Not that he hadn't dealt with emotionally unstable females before. They just hadn't usually been unstable over a dead brother, that was all.
In fact, their instability had usually been over something a lot easier to deal with.
A lot more basic.
Something a lot like sex.
They sat in silence for a while. When the coffee came, Ginny picked it up and downed it, looking perfectly normal. It was only when she set her cup down that she spoke.
"Ron's dead." She looked at Draco and repeated, "Ron's dead."
There was nothing to say. "I know." Draco said simply. Your mother is dead.
And Ginny lay her head down on his shoulder and cried.
And Draco just let her cry, looking out the window at the dark street and at the single lamp post shining orange on the hard road.
_____
Ron's funeral was the next week.
It was a simple funeral, quiet and sombre. Ginny looked at her brother's grave, and at the plain white headstone which crowned it.
Ronald Weasley.
1981 - 2007.
Beloved son, brother and friend.
Hate, virulent and thick suffused Ginny. She hated Voldemort.
The bastard would pay . . .
Ginny breathed deeply. Yes, the bastard would pay, but not now.
And she would not disrespect her brother's memory by thinking of him at his funeral.
Mourners came and went. Ginny was not surprised at the amount - she wanted more. She wanted more people to come and she wanted to scream at the world to stop moving for a while, to honour her brother who had never done anything bad, and who didn't deserve to die now . . .
She would not dishonour her brother by crying anymore. Crying did nothing - it achieved nothing.
Voldemort would pay.
Ginny stood in the Burrow when the funeral was over. Mourners filed through the house during the reception. She watched them come and go, keeping herself apart, so that they wouldn't come to her and tell her how sorry they were. She didn't want that. Not now.
Hermione.
Ginny watched her from across the room, and an impulse went through her. Hermione had loved Ron -
She needed to share her grief with someone who held that same grief. Hermione was holding herself so tightly that she looked like she was about to shatter.
Ginny crossed the room to Hermione. "Hermione -"
"Don't." Hermione held her hand out and shook her head. "Don't."
Shock rippled through Ginny. "I just wanted to -"
"Don't." A voice came from behind Hermione. Harry's green eyes met hers, looked at her from far away.
They stood united.
They were shutting her out.
But she had to try -
"I loved him too -"
"You didn't - you didn't know him like we did." Hermione said. Her grief was not gentle - a harsh shudder wracked her body. "Please, Ginny -"
Please leave.
"Please -" Harry repeated. His gaze softened slightly as it met hers. "I'm sorry." He said, gently. "But we need to grieve for Ron our friend, not Ron your brother. Your family is outside."
"I understand." Ginny said quietly. She restrained her shiver, and lifted her chin to meet the taller woman's eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn't. "I understand." She repeated, moving away.
She looked out the window at her family and despair went through her. They were broken up - her parents, her two eldest brothers, the twins, Percy and his wife.
And her -
It's supposed to be the two youngest . . .
Ginny and Ron . . .
Ginny realized suddenly that if Ron had been there he would have been with Harry and Hermione.
All alone.
She needed to leave. This despair was the enemy.
She glanced at her family, and then at Harry and Hermione.
Anger.
Yes, that was good. Anger was good.
She grabbed her coat. She would leave.
_____
"Isn't your brother's funeral today?"
Ginny glanced up from her typewriter at the face of Draco Malfoy. He was leaning against the wall as he had been the first time she'd seen him, those few weeks ago. She had known he would come to the Ministry today. "Yes." She rolled a fresh sheet of paper in. She smiled at him. She had not thanked him for his comfort that night a week ago.
Draco walked over. He glanced down at the paper and lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Then why are you typing up Hopper's letters?"
Ginny took her hands off the typewriter and studied Draco. He was very handsome, she thought with a thrill of anticipation.
Being alive was good.
"You're right." Ginny replied, standing. She went to stand beside him and he turned to face her. "I could be doing much better things."
The eyebrow lifted again. "Such as?"
Being alive was good. And she needed ammunition against the hurt Harry could still make her feel.
She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him.
"Shagging you senseless."
His hands were on her waist and his mouth was coming down on hers. She had not expected this hot explosion of sensation. Hot breath as he spoke.
"Your wish is my command."
A/n: Once again credit for this chapter goes to Renebre, as she wrote the first four chapters.
And I would like to make it clear that this story was never Ginny/Harry, they were never together and hopefully now you can see that it is in fact Ginny/Draco. The one time they kissed was a mistake that exploded from impassioned feelings, we all do things we regret when we're in an impassioned state. Perhaps Ginny is still attracted to Harry in some way, but she definitely doesn't feel any type of warm feelings for him. In this chapter she's very bitter, granted, she always was bitter about Harry (in the beginning of this fic) but now she utterly loathes him for the way he shut her out and de-emphasized her grief.