Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling's publishers, etc, etc. I own nothing but the plot and I can't make profit off this piece of writing, except for my own satisfaction.
A/N: I'm glad people still like reading it. I was afraid everyone forgot this ever existed. Here's the second part of the second part, or if you prefer, the third chapter.
Fire
By Katie a.k.a. Katrina Littlebird
Part Two
Inflame
Later, Ginny would wonder whether she should have listened to Draco Malfoy, but at the time the option of not going back was unthinkable. She had to if she were to protect the Order and get the last ingredients. In fact, she was too afraid to go back home, and thus spent the night shivering on the streets.
She was glad for the sunny morning when she woke up. It was fortunate that she was used to spending harsh nights, or else she would've come down with a fever. As the case was, Ginny felt quite clear-minded and healthy as she hurried over to the marketplace, only to be stopped in her tracks by the sight of Draco Malfoy.
He spotted her as well and he flaunted a frustrating smirk. "Hello, Ginny," he said, beckoning to her. "You cannot expect me to walk over to you."
Of course not, Ginny thought sourly, as she dragged herself toward him. Of course he, with his immaculate and elegant robes and cloak, would not degrade himself by approaching her, with her soiled and ragged smock. "Well, so I'm here," she said. "What do you want?"
"It would do you some good," Draco said, "to apologize to me."
"For what?" Ginny nearly shouted, before she realized she'd punched him. Which wasn't intelligent, she supposed, since she could well be burned for that. She swallowed her pride and said, very painfully, "I apologize for punching you in the face."
Draco seemed pleased. "Apology accepted," he said. "I'd like to finish that conversation we've been having, but I have important business to attend to -"
"To watch someone else burn?" Ginny blurted out; she couldn't help it. It was disgusting for someone like him to enjoy it, and for someone like her to still have nightmares about fire.
Disgusting, and unfair.
Draco did not seem perturbed in the least. "In fact, yes," he said, as he slipped on gloves, as if he were merely going to a show. He flashed her a smile. "It's quite a pastime of mine, actually." He scrunched up his nose. "You better get away from me. My companion will be arriving soon and I don't want her to know I associate myself with you."
Ginny glared at him, but she was too happy to move away. However, just when she thought she was free to go, he added after her, "Tomorrow, same time."
And she knew it was not a question.
*
"Who was that you were talking to?" demanded Pansy when they reached the stakes.
"Who are you talking about?" Draco asked, playing dumb. "If you meant that girl, I wasn't talking to her. She was trying to beg for money, the poor fool."
He shot her a sidelong glance. Pansy's face was placid, although she was clearly fighting down a look of pleasure. She never could hide her emotions well, and unlike Ginny, her expressions were rather boring.
As the newest victim - a wizard this time - was brought to the stakes, Ginny's angry rush of words came back to him. Draco had known, even then, that they were true, but he didn't want to accept it. Not that he was disturbed, because he saw too many things to be disturbed, but that he hadn't known. He'd built his beliefs on that wizards were worthy because they would not be caught by muggles, but now Ginny managed to scrap that foundation.
He looked at Pansy, wondering if she knew, but he doubted it. She was his fiancée, but for all he cared she could be his owl. No, even Aphrodite had more of a brain. Pansy's life revolved around the tradition established by Voldemort. Before, it had made sense to Draco, but now -
"Draco, it's starting!" simpered Pansy, grabbing his hand and pointing. "Look!"
Draco looked. Yes, the robes were already smoking. Soon, the wizard would die. And become ashes. Because your kind reported us, a voice oddly reminiscent of Ginny cried out. Draco closed his eyes. How could a foul-mouthed girl tear out the roots of his beliefs?
"Draco, watch," Pansy said, her eyes reflecting the gruesome scene unfolding before everyone. She had been brought up on the burnings as well, and she enjoyed it as much as Draco had.
"I'm watching, darling," Draco said, though his eyes were blind to the burning wizard.
When he got home, he sat by his window for a long time. He thought of the beautiful castle with its towers and turrets, the slimy streets with the huddled people, and a girl with shiny brown eyes. For a moment, he was ten again, twisting in bed and crying out in fear, because that girl had come back to haunt him.
*
"Tell me how you died," Draco said immediately, as soon as he saw Ginny the next morning.
Ginny felt her face pale. Her eyes darted around quickly; the marketplace was still sparse, but she didn't want to attract any attention. "Can we not talk about it here?" she pleaded.
"No," Draco said, an urgency in his tone. He seized Ginny's shoulders and squeezed them painfully. "Tell me how you managed to survive."
Ginny was afraid. He seemed so furious that she was afraid he wanted to tear her apart. "I - I - I managed to use a spell," she said.
"A spell," repeated Draco disbelievingly. "The Flame Freezing Spell. That's impossible. You don't even have a wand. How can you do magic?"
Ginny looked away. She didn't want to tell him about Harry or the Order. "I just got lucky, I suppose," she said, and it was true. She'd managed to curb her wandless magic into a spell that could save her life. Of course, for a long afterwards, she couldn't muster enough energy, but -
Draco's hands released their tight grip and he stepped back from her, as if she were a demon. "You can do magic," he said. "It's not as if you are unfit to use magic. I don't understand why so many of you aren't."
"I never said we're unfit to do magic," Ginny said. "I only said that we can't use my magic at will, not like you can, and if you don't become quiet now, you'll get me killed."
"But so many of you are killed already," Draco said.
There was a look on his face that made Ginny recoil. She watched as his body heaved with something she couldn't identify. Then, without warning, he turned around and disappeared with a pop, leaving her staring after him in confusion.
*
The next time she and Draco met, neither of them greeted each other. Draco didn't even bother acknowledging her as he began toward the part of the city Ginny never dared approach, and it took all of Ginny's courage to follow. When the scorched buildings and uneven sidewalks were replaced by shining mansions and broad avenues, Draco turned to her.
"How's your mother?"
"My mother?" repeated Ginny, dumbfounded. "What does it matter to you what happened to her?"
"I saw her in the crowds when you supposedly died," Draco said. "She looked like she was about to cry, but she didn't try to save you."
Ginny cursed the way he had with words, to bring the conversation back to her death. "She can't save me," she replied. "She would've been killed herself."
"I thought mothers would die for their children," Draco said.
Ginny looked at him, surprised by the subtle bitterness in his tone. She wouldn't learn about Narcissa till later. "She would've died for me, if it helped," she defended her mother. "Besides, she knew that Ha - that I could save myself."
"She is still alive now, then?"
"She's dead now, if that makes you feel any better!" Ginny said angrily.
"It does," Draco said harshly. "It makes my day all the more cheery." He paused. "Who do you live with then? How do you live? Where did you get your five Galleons?"
"I have friends," Ginny said, not bothering to mention that Luna and Neville were now adept at the Summoning Spell and transfiguring simple things. "We manage."
"Where do you live?"
"A place that's not nearly as nice as this one," Ginny answered.
Draco nodded absently, and then he was quiet.
Ginny, too, was silent, though she didn't want to be. She wanted to ask him about himself, about the life she could have led, the school she could've gone to, but the questions never left her lips. She looked down and kicked at the puddles on the ground. It rained again last night, and Hermione had predicted a thunderstorm.
"I don't understand," Draco said, "why you chose to stay here." Then, more dreamily, "I don't understand why nobody remembers who you are."
His words sounded scornful, although Ginny thought she could discern a touch of sympathy underneath. Or pity? Sadness maybe?
Ginny didn't know. She debated whether she should say something, but before she could reach a conclusion, he leaned over and held a lock of her hair between his fingers.
She winced internally, not because it hurt, but because her hair looked a mess next to his manicured fingers. She remembered that it had been bright red, curling softly around her face in ringlets. That was when she was younger, when she'd actually cared. Now it was dirty and limp, and she could hardly discern that it was red unless it was under bright light.
Draco dropped her hair, almost gently. "You have beautiful hair," he said, distantly and unexpectedly. Then he turned and walked away.
You have beautiful hair.
It took some effort for Ginny to remember that she was in a dangerous neighbourhood and that she should probably leave. In a daze, she walked back to her part of London, the words echoing in her head. Hermione looked up as she entered the parlour. "Is it warm outside?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"Warm?" Ginny said, and as she pressed a hand to her cheek, she realized that she'd been blushing.
-
A/N: As usual, review is good. =)