CHAPTER 9 Revelations
Draco watched her retreat and he slammed the door shut behind her. Stupid, bloody, goody two shoes . . . But he knew she was right. Those bloody Gryffindor's would help him, if he ever sunk low enough to ask.
His chest heaved, the deep breaths taking over his body. Calm down. Get control of yourself. Malfoy's do not lose control. What would his father say, if he could see him? He'd laugh at him. He'd tell him if Zabini was stupid enough to get in the way, and Zabini's mother was pathetic enough to try and interfere with the Dark Lord's plan, than they got exactly what they deserved. Calm down. Control. You must always have control.
The days passed with such a horrible monotony, Draco thought he might have to throw himself off a tower just to create some excitement. He saw Ginny hallways and in the Great Hall and he wanted to talk to her, but couldn't risk it. He was no longer sure if it was Pansy who had told his father about the Ball or not. The Slytherin House seemed to be split between the children of loyal Death Eaters and the children of Death Eater supporters. Draco couldn't be sure who fell into what category and therefore, he couldn't let anyone know that he was still interested in Ginny. Any attention he paid her would only result in trouble.
The castle itself seemed to reflect the mood of the students and teacher; everyone was wary, cautious, on edge. The only people who seemed less than concern were Potter and his little friends. The very thought of it made Draco want to scream. Goyle's mother had taken him from the school days after the news of Zabini's death broke, and Crabbe was too afraid to say much to Draco anymore, so Draco was left all alone, and that was fine with him. Even the other Slytherin's shot him looks of sympathy mixed with fear and sometimes even disgust. Pansy Parkinson had taken the opportunity to make him feel better, but he wanted nothing to do with her. When she finally cornered him, and he gave in and kissed her, all he could think about was red hair.
"Get off," he said finally, shoving Pansy away.
"What?" she demanded, the veins in her neck beginning to bulge.
"Sorry," he told her dryly. "But snogging in the corner isn't exactly what I had in mind for the evening."
She yelled and cursed and finally cried, but Draco wouldn't relent.
"Get away from me. I don't want anything to do with you," he drawled, forcing his voice into boredom.
"Is it because I don't have ginger hair? Cause I'm not a Muggle lover?" she shouted. "Your father's gonna love this!"
"There is obviously nothing between me and any Weasley," Draco informed her through gritted teeth. "It's just you I'm not interested in."
Draco stomped back to the Slytherin dorms, and up to his mostly empty room. There were only two other six year's in there now, Nathaniel Nott and Morag MacDougal, but they were only Draco's study partners, no one to talk to, even though he knew for a fact Nott's father was a Death Eater also. Nott seemed fairly stupid though; he practically worshiped the Dark Lord as much as any of the Death Eaters.
Draco threw off his clothes and flopped down on his bed, glaring angrily at his book bag. He reached down to pick it up, but stopped, hearing a scratching at the window. A black owl. A black eagle owl, just like his father's.
Draco stomped out of bed, and with a string of curses, opened the window.
***
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ginny had been chiding herself all week for the pathetic way she had gone after Draco. She had felt bad for him, but obviously that wasn't something you did for a Malfoy. She felt his eyes on her when they passed in the halls, but she refused to look at him. What had she been thinking anyways? That's what Ron wanted to know at least. She didn't know Draco. For unknown reasons she had decided to trust him, and that had obviously backfired.
When classes started again, she let the days drift past her by throwing herself into her studies, and listening to Ron, Harry, and Hermione discuss You Know Who and the Death Eaters.
"There's been attacks almost everyday," Hermione sighed, folding her worn copy of the Daily Prophet. "There were three yesterday, and then some suspicious anti Muggle activity."
Harry bit his lip. "I wish I could just find him, and we could end it right here and now."
"Are you out of your mind?" Ron hissed. "You could die!"
"One of us will," he said softly.
"What?" Hermione demanded.
"Dumbledore said that one of us has to get rid of the other one."
Ginny looked up from her Potions scroll. "What do you mean?"
Harry took a deep breath and blew it out. "Remember the prophecy?"
"In the Ministry?" Ron asked.
"Yeah. I heard it. When it broke I heard it, and it said that either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."
Ginny's mouth dropped. "No."
Hermione's head was shaking violently back and forth. "That can't be, I mean, Dumbledore would have told you, no Harry, there's gotta be a mistake."
"She's right," Ron said, looking relieve. "That can't be true."
"It's true. The rest of the prophecy said the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord would be born at the end of August to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times, and that he would be the Dark Lord's equal." Harry sighed and seemed to age 10 years as he sank into his chair. "But I can't even fight him with my own wand."
Hermione's eyes were threatening to spill tears, and Ginny felt her own eye's stinging.
"Neville was born right before me."
"What?" Ron's head shot up.
"His parents defied Voldemort three times before Belatrix sent them to St. Mungo's."
The air in the room thinned and Ginny struggled to breathe. "What does that mean?"
"Dumbledore says it means nothing. I'm the one Voldemort considers and equal," Harry answered quietly.
"It's just not fair," Hermione roared, causing the common room to fall silent. "Why does this have to fall on you? How are you supposed to kill him when your wand doesn't work on him?"
"I suppose it could work on him," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Maybe just not when dueling each other."
"I just need to learn more powerful curses," Harry said firmly. "I need to learn Avada Kedavra."
Ron's eyes widened and Hermione gave a little gasp. "But it's unforgivable," she reminded him.
"I hardly think anyone would hold it against Harry if he used it against You Know Who," Ginny snorted. "They'd thank him."
"So now what?" Hermione asked, frowning at her paper, and blinking furiously.
They sat silently, watching the fire crackle around them.
"You know," Ginny finally spoke up, "in Muggle Studies, Professor Duncan said that-"
"When did you take Muggle Studies?" Ron interrupted.
"In my 3rd and 4th year. He said that the Muggles who won their wars won because they knew their enemy."
"That's helpful," Ron snorted rudely. "What's it mean?"
"Stop being a prat and listen. I guess that we should try to find out as much as we can about You Know Who. It wouldn't hurt anything to do a little research on him, would it?"
Hermione shook her head and looked up. "That's a good idea, actually."
Harry nodded and forced a smile. "I guess we can start tomorrow."
"After Quidditch practice though," Ron said. "We have a game next week."
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