If We Could Only See

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 7 2003-05-12T02:12:00Z 2003-05-12T02:12:00Z 1 2711 15456 128 36 18131 10.2625 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Title: If We Could Only See

Author: Duckchick

Rating: PG

Summery: Ginny and Draco are in their Sixth and Seventh years. When a mysterious explosion shatters the peace of Hogwarts, Ginny decides to do some investigating of her own, and ends up saving Malfoy's life. But who's after him? Why would anyone risk the wrath of Voldemort's most favored supporter? And when Harry, Hermione, and Ron do some snooping around, will they trust Malfoy enough to share what they know? Prejudice and bittrerness abound between all, but will Ginny and Draco's feelings succumb to these, or will they choose to embrace the fire between them instead? It's a cruel world, but love is always possible when you least expect it! Werewolves and vampires that scare, oh my!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

The clouds raced across the sky, lending an added chill to the already cold night. Seventeen year old Draco Malfoy surveyed the night sky with a sense of foreboding. In the distance he heard thunder and he knew the approaching storm would be long and severe. At the moment he welcomed it, it suited his mood. Tonight he was to meet his father at the Parkinson Mansion, where Pansy’s parents were holding a dinner party in honor of Mr. Parkinson’s recent success in shooting down Amos Diggory’s proposed Mandatory Artifact Registration.

Draco smiled darkly. The proposed law would make it mandatory for anyone owning any sort of magical artifact to register it under their name, along with the artifact’s type and class. It would make it quite handy to keep up with those who collected artifacts of a dark nature. Lucius Malfoy was a great collector of such artifacts, and he was already being closely watched. Having his collection known in its entirety would be quite….troublesome. In fact, most families could boast an artifact or two of questionable origin. But those like his father had good reason to keep their collections guarded. Can’t help our powerful allies along if we don’t have the proper tools, he thought.

He was not looking forward to tonight. Any party in which he was allowed to attend, especially at the Parkinson’s, meant that Pansy would be there simpering and carrying on. He remembered when he’d first mentioned her to his father. Lucius had been pleased, and encouraged Draco to “be nice to her and show your affection”. How he regretted the day he ever let her name slip out of his mouth! Now at every social function he was expected to socialize and talk to her, or else earn his father’s disapprobation. The Parkinson’s were an excellent family, rich and of pure blood. That was enough for his father.

Draco had to admit that at first the fawning adoration had been flattering. But it had soon got on his nerves. Her endless simpering and brainless chatter was enough to make him want to rip his hair out at times. The most amazing thing about her was her ability to talk. And talk. And talk. She could carry on a conversation with an empty room! And the things she talked about were boring and stupid. Just like every girl he’d ever met. Now, after six years of socializing with them almost exclusively, Draco had a nasty feeling his father and Mr. Parkinson were going to start dropping big hints of what the future should hold. And he had no idea how he was going to get out of it. All he knew was that marriage to Pansy Parkinson would be the equivalent of a life sentence in Azkaban!

But surely it wouldn’t happen tonight. It was a simple dinner party celebrating a legal victory for Mr. Parkinson. He was to meet his mother at Malfoy Mansion and they would take the BMW out to the Parkinson’s. Draco looked forward to persuading his mother to let him drive it. She was easy, and almost always gave in to his wants. He smiled as he thought of her handing him the keys, telling him that they’d let it be their secret.

“No problem, mum,” he murmured. “Just hand over the keys!”

He looked up at the sky again. The clouds had thickened and had slowed down to pile on top of one another. A sudden flash of lightening heralded the swift arrival of the evening’s storm. He closed his eyes to enjoy the after image of the lightening in the quiet chaos behind his eyelids. Violet fire, like the first jolts of the Cruciatus Curse spearing through the brain.

The after image faded. Draco laughed lightly as he turned and began walking home.

Sixteen year old Ginny Weasley picked up a gnome by its feet and spun it furiously over her head before tossing it far into the bushes across from the garden. De-gnoming wasn’t her favorite chore, but she’d ceased feeling sorry for the creatures when one had thanked her for setting it gently down by suddenly relieving himself on her shoe.

“Good toss, Ginny!” Ron laughed. She grinned as she caught another one.

“Let’s see if I can go you one better!” a deep male voice cried behind her. She turned to see Harry whirl his arm over his head and toss his gnome far over the hedges of the yard. She felt herself blush as he laughed easily with Ron, his wide smile adding an extra beauty to his handsome features. He was even more handsome now, at seventeen, than he’d been at eleven. He’d grown tall and sleek, his bright green eyes sparkling with the mischief he and Ron loved to jump into at any given moment. She felt the familiar ache in her heart and wondered if she’d ever be able to get over him, or make him love her back.

Molly Weasley’s voice suddenly carried through the kitchen window, “Boys? Boys please keep it down some! I have a terrible headache!”

“Sorry mum!” Ron called, as he and Harry laughed more quietly. Harry ran his hand through his unruly dark hair, gripping it and jerking himself to the side. Ron almost collapsed in his fit of giggles. The boys were giddy today, and it was no wonder. It wasn’t ever day you got an invitation to try out for a professional Quidditch team!

The Montrose Magpies were interested in both Harry and Ron, who’d started playing quidditch in his fifth year, as a chaser. Harry had also received offers from the Wimbourne Wasps, the Appleby Arrows, and several other teams. Ron, Ginny remembered, had hidden his jealousy rather well. But she’d seen him in a quiet moment, while Harry had read his umpteenth invitation, and tears had dripped down his face for a moment before he’d hastily wiped them away. Ron and Harry’s friendship was sometimes a double edged sword, and their closeness had sometimes been tainted by Harry’s fame. But Ginny knew that Harry hated this even more than Ron, hated the fact that he was famous for something he didn’t remember. Hated the fact that he got special treatment even when he didn’t want it, and most of all hated how much all of this hurt his best friend. That was one of Harry’s most endearing qualities, as far as she was concerned. Not like that awful Draco Malfoy, who was snobbish and rude and mean spirited…

Where in the name of Merlin’s beard had that come from? Ginny scowled and threw the next gnome she grabbed viciously over the garden gate. It was nearing the end of summer and she’d see that crass dolt soon enough! She refused to ruin what was left of her holiday by thinking about him. She would most especially not think of how, at the end of last term, he’d called her a spotted menace, referring to her freckles. How dare that foul mouthed little bastard spout such things at her! Spotted menace? She’d show him the meaning of menace! The next gnome she threw actually gave a shrill cry, knocking her back to reality.

“Ginny, what’s wrong?” A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to see Harry looking at her with concern.

She blushed furiously. “Oh, nothing Harry…sorry!”

Feeling like an idiot, she quickly excused herself to wash up. The boys could finish the chore; she needed a moment alone.

She ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face and neck, then decided to take a bath. As she filled the tub and stripped down, she wondered how she could have once again embarrassed herself in front of Harry like that. All he had to do was look at her and her tongue would thicken. If he spoke to or touched her directly she would get too flustered to speak, and run. Every time! It was humiliating the way it always happened. He lived with them now, for heaven’s sake, and had for almost two years! Why couldn’t she manage to talk to him like a normal person?

To make matters worse, she’d been thinking about his most hated enemy. Well, her enemy too. In fact, it might be called a family feud. The enmity between the Weasleys and the Malfoys was quite thick, and it was worse for Harry. She’d always had the suspicion that, if the Potters had lived, they too would be caught up in this fierce rivalry that seemed to seethe around the Malfoys and others of their ilk. She frowned. The Potters had not lived, unfortunately, and she thought that maybe Harry believed that Draco’s father may have had something to do with it. Since it was now known that Sirius Black hadn’t done it -- by her family anyway -- whom else did that leave?

Well, plenty of others, actually. But she rather enjoyed putting Lucius Malfoy in the role of Disgusting Villain. Not that he needed help with that, she thought grimly, remembering her mental torture at the hands of Tom Riddle. The Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk -- all she had suffered in an attempt to shoot down her father’s Muggle Protection Act. Well it hadn’t worked, she thought with fierce triumph. It hadn’t worked because Harry had saved her, as well as the rest of the school!

Harry. She blushed at the mere mention of his name, and yet he never seemed to notice. If he did, he hid it rather well. For a moment, she felt resentment well in her heart. What kind of boy could see you and know of your love, and yet ignore it? But another part of her mind jumped to his defense, reminding her that he was sweet and shy, and probably didn’t know what to do about it.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for once she let them fall. No, he didn’t feel the same. He loved Cho Chang, or maybe he loved that new girl from Scotland, Heather. Did it matter who? It wasn’t her, and it never would be.

Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed as quietly as she could.

Time passed, and September arrived. It was time for the return to Hogwarts. Ron and Harry were seventh years now, their last year at Hogwarts, and Ginny was in her sixth. Ever since Molly and Arthur Weasley had adopted Harry, their monetary fortunes had improved, boosted also by the success of Fred and George’s joke shop. Though they had refused to take much, Harry had been able to give them a good deal of money in return for their raising him. The Dursleys had been only too glad to see Harry go, and since they didn’t know Harry had a small fortune to his name, he’d never heard from them again. Ginny knew that this was fine with him.

She loaded her trunk with Ron’s help and then waved and went to talk to Susan Dresh, her best friend. Susan was a Ravenclaw, but she and Ginny had bonded in Herbology, their worst subject. They had seen each other only sporadically over the summer, but they’d kept Errol and Phil, the Dresh family owl, busy with their correspondence. Susan hugged her tightly in greeting.

“It’s so good to see you Gin!” she exclaimed. “And you look so lovely!”

“Oh please, Susan!” Ginny laughed. “It’s you who looks fantastic! You’re practically glowing! What’s his name?”

Susan blushed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Ginny was surprised. “Susan! Why would I laugh? You’re my best friend!”

Susan chewed her lip uncertainly, and then smiled. “It’s Seamus -- Seamus Finnigan.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped, but she didn’t laugh. “I…I had no idea!” Impulsively, she hugged her friend again, “When, how? What happened?”

Susan laughed. “I’ll tell you on the train! Got to say goodbye to mum and dad, they always get so maudlin when I go!”

Ginny said goodbye and ran over to her own parents. Ron and Harry were already saying their farewells, and when her turn came she was surprised to see the tears in her mother’s eyes.

“My baby girl is all grown up now!” She smiled tremulously. “All my children are growing too fast for me to keep up with!”

“Oh mum!” Ginny hugged her tightly. “I’m not quite there yet, I still have some child in me!”

“Yes, and I mean to enjoy it. You take care of yourself my dear, and be good!”

Ginny then turned to hug her father, who was also looking rather sad. “Bye daddy!”

“You make me proud Ginny,” he said quietly, making her start. “I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

You’d think I was going away forever, she thought irritably. “Dad, please! It’s only school!”

“I know darling. But I just can’t believe you’re a sixth year already! It seems like just yesterday we brought you-“

At that moment, the train whistle blew, cutting Mr. Weasley off. He hugged Ginny quickly and pushed her towards the train. “Mind yourselves now, and stay out of trouble!” This was for Ron and Harry.

Ginny ran and hopped on the train just as it began to move. Susan was there to grab her hand and pull her to an empty car at the back of the train. They passed Hermione Granger who waved to them as she settled in with Harry and Ron. Ginny liked Hermione, and admired her great intelligence. Most people were irritated by her, but Ginny thought she was a sweet and compassionate person. Her actions always proved this, though she could come across a bit forcefully – such as with her promotion of S.P.E.W. Yet Hermione’s goal there had been admirable and could hardly be considered selfish. But Hermione was soon driven from Ginny’s mind as she and Susan took their seats in the empty car.

“All right, I’ll tell you everything.” Susan grinned.

“Oh good,” Ginny replied sardonically, “I’d hate to have to beat it out of you!”

They laughed and Susan began telling of how she and Seamus had run into each other when her parents were visiting relatives in Ireland. He had been celebrating his birthday and had invited her to come along with himself and his parents. It turned out that they had a great deal in common, and by the end of the visit she’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.

“Oh Gin, he’s so sweet and kind! I don’t think I’ve met anyone before with a bigger heart! Except Harry,” she added hastily. Ginny smiled and shook her head.

“It’s all right Susan, don’t say anything. I have to learn to pull away from him.”

Susan was taken aback. “What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yes, I woke up!” Ginny said quietly.

She proceeded to tell Susan about her summer and her growing conviction that Harry knew -- had always known -- how she felt, but didn’t return those feelings and never would. Susan tried to argue.

“Gin, you have to tell him outright! How many times have I told you that? He can’t act on mere suspicion, and how is he supposed to know if you don’t speak up? You always say you’ll tell him when you’re ready. Now you’re just going to give up without trying?”

“It’s no use, Susan,” Ginny insisted. “He knows, I’m sure he does because I’ve been an obvious dolt about it for years! How can he not know? I just have to accept this, and I will.”

Susan looked ready to argue more, but Ginny raised a hand to forestall her. “I’ve made up my mind, Susan. No discussion! I just need time to accept it.”

Susan was shocked, to say the least. But she also knew Ginny’s stubbornness. It would be better to talk of this later, in a calmer atmosphere. But they were alone, how much calmer could it get? How could she change her mind so suddenly about telling Harry how she felt? It had been her prime obsession for the last three years! Six, if you counted the time since she’d met him.

Ginny smiled at the ground. “I can practically hear your thoughts. I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me. But I didn’t arrive at this decision lightly or suddenly. For the last year I’ve known, deep in my heart, that he won’t ever love me. It just took me this long to admit it to myself. Now all I have to do is stop pining.” She put on a brave smile, belying the sparkle of tears in her eyes

. “Trust me, it’s for the best!”

Susan sat down and hugged her friend impulsively. “Gin, I hope you know what you’re doing. This is years and years of love!”

“I know. But they’re wasted years. It’s time to move on, and maybe try to find someone who’ll appreciate me!”

Though her tone of voice was light, Susan could hear the pain underneath. She got up and opened the door.

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked.

Susan made a face. “To kick the thick headed twerp’s shins!”

“Susan!” Ginny burst out laughing, making her friend grin.

“I’m going to find the trolly, I’m starving. Want anything?”

“Get me some Cauldron Cakes, and maybe a Fizzing Whizzby.” Ginny began to dig into her pockets, but Susan waved her away. “My treat!” she said kindly.

And so the trip passed. They laughed and talked of summer, and of Ron’s and Harry’s antics. Quidditch try-outs had gone well, but they wouldn’t hear anything definite for a while. And the boys had to finish school at any rate. They talked of Seamus and his plans to go into his father’s business, and of his hidden romantic side. “He’s forever giving me flowers, Gin!” There were even quiet moments, and if Ginny wept a bit, leaning on her friend’s shoulder, well, that’s what friends are for!

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 5 2003-05-12T02:13:00Z 2003-05-12T02:13:00Z 1 2527 14404 120 33 16898 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 2

Draco sat staring across the great hall at the Gryffindor table. The first week of school had passed rather uneventfully, but this week Quidditch practice would begin. The new Slytherin captain, Lewis Halford, had hinted rather forcefully that perhaps there was a need to hold try-outs for all positions.

“Just in case,” He’d sneered at Malfoy. Just in case what? He thought angrily. Just in case Potter makes a fool of me again? He scowled, his gaze snapping down to his barely touched breakfast. Not this time, not this year, he thought fiercely. I’m going to get that snitch every game!

He stabbed his fork into his sausages, over and over, until they were nothing more than fragments of meat. Wasn’t it a pity he couldn’t do that to Potter’s face? He got up and grabbed his book bag.

“Let’s go!” he snapped to Crabbe and Goyle, who had been about to help themselves to thirds. They dutifully abandoned their plates and rushed to flank him, almost dropping their own bags in the process. But Draco wasn’t paying attention; he was already headed for his first class, Potions, his favorite subject with his favorite professor. He had always liked Snape, but in the last year he’d begun to feel a strange kinship with him. There were moments when, as they’d talked over the semesters, he’d found the Potions Master looking at him with a strange sort of understanding in his eyes. The thing was he could never recall afterwards what it was he and the professor had been discussing at those times. And he was afraid that maybe he’d let slip some of his more secret thoughts.

Still, Snape had never commented on anything. And what was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like the professor would go around spreading any rumors. Draco wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this, so he shook himself mentally and tried to remember all the ingredients needed for the Freezing Fusion. Water, powdered sea slug, two phoenix feathers, what else?

He was still absently thinking as he took his seat in the Potions chamber, when he heard a shout of laughter near him. He looked over irritably to see Weasley and Potter talking cheerily to Finnigan and Thomas about their summer, specifically their Quidditch trials. Draco scowled as he heard Weasley’s grating voice.

“So Harry starts flying around above the lot of us looking for the snitch. Mind you, there were about twenty judges or whatever, and they were all watching us like hawks. Their heads were following everything we did, and I thought I was going to fall off my broom trying to keep from laughing! But Harry’s whizzing and circling us like a billywig, it was hilarious! Well then-“

Then Precious Potter caught the bloody thing, and then they probably told him he was their new seeker for life, and then they promised him thousands of galleons, blah, blah, blah! Draco burned with suppressed rage and jealousy. No one had called him. No one was interested in a seeker who kept losing matches. It wasn’t as if he was the sole reason Slytherin House hadn’t won either the quidditch or the House cup for six years running! But he never failed to garner a great deal of irritability from his housemates, though they might not express it to his face. And here Weasley was talking about these trials as if they were funny, not important in the least. Well, laugh all you want Weasley, I’ll bet they pass you over for Potter. I’ll bet you were invited just to please Potter the Great! I’ll bet they have no intention of offering you any position above towel boy. And I hope they do!

The bell rang, and Snape strode swiftly in. His presence had the effect of silencing the class immediately. By the time Snape reached his desk, everyone was seated and ready for their lessons. Draco smirked. Snape commanded respect from every student he taught. Failure to do so carried dire consequences. And whether the students liked him or hated him, they never crossed him if they could help it. Without looking at any of them, Snape sat behind his desk and called roll in his usual sharp fashion. Draco took special pleasure in hearing Neville Longbottom squeak out his reply. Even after all these years, Longbottom was still terrified of Snape. Lovely!

For some inexplicable reason, his father’s face suddenly loomed before Draco’s mind. Draco stiffened, suddenly hearing his father’s voice in his mind.

“Sit up straight boy, you’re embarrassing me! Your grades are deplorable; you disgrace the name of Malfoy! How do you expect to get along in this world if you can’t even play a simple game of Quidditch without losing! Those Mudbloods humiliate you day in and day out! How do you think that makes me look?”

He felt the familiar tightness in his face, the icy pain in his stomach, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. Glancing sideways, he felt a vicious stab of pleasure as he saw Neville’s pale face screw up in fear of the Potions Master. Insufferable fool! If he couldn’t manage to make a simple sleeping draught by himself, then he deserved much worse than teasing and name calling. Why hadn’t the fat ignoramus been expelled yet?

Suddenly, the dungeon room’s door opened. Snape glared at the intrusion and Draco turned irritably towards the door himself. A young woman with flaming red hair entered slowly, her expression guarded.

“Ginny?” Draco heard Ron whisper in surprise.

“What is it, Miss Weasley?” Snape barked.

Ginny stopped, a tiny line forming suddenly between her brows. “I’m sorry Professor, but I was told to come here for some of your Soothing Sluice. Professor Sprout needs a bit.”

Draco was surprised, but at what? The firmness of her voice, for one thing. Ginny had always been a very shy, quiet girl, especially around Potter. He could count the number of times he’d heard her speak audibly on one hand. But here she was, staring determinedly at Snape, standing unusually straight as she did so. For the first time, Draco became aware of the gracefulness of her form. She was growing as tall and slender as a willow. He was also surprised to see that her freckles had faded a great deal, leaving only a smattering of them across her cheeks. Her gaze seemed to have gained a steady strength, and she bore little resemblance to the easily hurt girl he remembered from last term. The change in her was obvious, though he’d only now seen it. He hadn’t noticed her all the previous week, and now he couldn’t understand how he could have missed her.

“Malfoy,” Snape growled, “the Sluice is in my store room, along with some empty bottles. Pour out a one ounce measure for Miss Weasley and send her on her way!”

Draco stared at the Potions Master. Why him? Why not make Crabbe or Goyle do it? Because they’d mess it up and would probably smash half the storeroom in the process. Still, Draco was irritated. He got up and headed for the door, feeling the tightness in his face increase. He entered and began looking over the shelves. None of the bottles were labeled, but Draco knew their contents well. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, which had been a lot last term, he’d often come down to the chamber to help Professor Snape with his work. The opportunity to relax and just talk with someone had more than made up for the work he’d sometimes had to do: servants work, like cataloging ingredients or rearranging potion bottles, as Snape would explain what they were, what they could be used for, and what was in them. He’d actually enjoyed those times. But now he was to pour out a measure of liquid for the Weasley girl and give it to her, like a bloody House Elf!

He chose a small, bullet shaped bottle and was grabbing the Soothing Sluice when the storeroom door banged open, making him start.

Ginny Weasley strode in and banged the door closed again. Draco stared. What on earth was she doing?

Ginny didn’t look at him. She kept her hand on the door and stared down at the floor, her face crimson. After a moment, she closed her eyes and covered them with her other hand.

“What are you doing?” Draco snapped, causing her to whirl around and clamp her hands over her mouth in fright. She had forgotten he was in there.

She tore her hands away from her mouth a moment later; her face going even redder than before, if that was possible. Almost matching her hair, Draco thought. He felt a rush of fresh irritation, and turned to grab a small funnel. “I would have brought this to you, no need to chase me in here!”

“I didn’t chase you in here, Malfoy!” she snapped back. “I….thought I’d help you!”

“Help me?” he laughed. “Think I don’t have brain enough to pour, or what?”

“Well that’s debatable, now isn’t it?” Ginny smiled sardonically.

Draco’s hand froze on the jar of Sluice. “What did you say?”

Ginny suppressed the mad grin that wanted to erupt on her face, and instead clasped her hands behind her. “Nothing.”

“Be careful Weasley.” Draco glared at her, his eyes mere slits. “You don’t want to go angering the wrong people now, do you?”

Ginny’s face tilted up until she looked him directly in the eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“Think of it as a warning.” Draco smiled coldly.

“Ooh, a warning!” She returned his smile with three times his frost. “And what will you do, Malfoy?” She suddenly hunched slightly and affected a baby’s lisp “‘Dear Daddy, Ginny Weasley is being so mean to me. Get her!’”

“SHUT UP!” Draco roared. His hands began to shake.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did that piss you off?” Ginny straightened up and glared at him fiercely. “I’m not afraid of you, Malfoy, or your tantrums or threats! If you’re looking to bully and call someone names, why not try those who deserve it. How about your dear friends Crabbe and Goyle, since their brains seem to have gone on permanent holiday?”

Draco’s hands were clenched around the bottles so tightly they went numb. “You…little…tart! How...dare…”

The door banged open once again, and Snape strode in. The rest of the class was half out of their seats, trying to look inside. Ron looked particularly angry.

The professor’s eyes swept over the both of them, taking in every detail. “What is taking so long?”

Not removing her glare from Draco’s face, Ginny backed away a step and crossed her arms. “Sorry professor, I distracted Mr. Malfoy. He was just about to pour the Sluice.”

Snape’s icy gaze pinned Draco, who couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Ginny was covering herself, really. But she was also covering him. Turning sharply, he placed the small funnel onto the bullet shaped jar and poured.

“That’s enough,” Snape growled. Draco stopped pouring abruptly, spilling a little of the Sluice on his hand. It felt cool on his hot skin, and he had the mad urge to take a big swig out of the bottle. He was so enraged he couldn’t seem to think straight.

Turning, he handed the bottle to Ginny, taking care not to touch any part of her hand. Ginny took the bottle without comment and strode out of the room, pausing only to quickly thank Snape before she disappeared from view. Draco saw Ron open his mouth and gesture to her, but a moment later the dungeon door opened and banged closed, leaving Ron wide eyed and open mouthed. Harry placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder, settling him.

“Wash the equipment, and then resume your seat please,” the Professor snapped. Draco nodded, and Snape walked out, banging the door behind him.

Once he was alone, Draco flung the funnel into the sink and gripped its edge tightly, leaning forward. He had managed to get his breathing under control, but his mind was still whirling. That little bitch! How dare she talk to me like some commoner! Her words echoed like a trumpet call in his mind: “Dear Daddy…”

So what if she was right in what she’d guessed? Anyone with intelligence feared the Malfoy name. His father could put the fear of God into her whole worthless family! Lucius Malfoy could make anyone sorry they’d ever crossed him. Anyone at all…

He turned on the water, his hands still shaking. He could still see her eyes. They’d burned like fire with her anger. What right had she to be angry? She’d started this! She’d insulted him, his friends, and his family!

Well, he could understand about his friends…

He did not run to his father every time he had a problem. If she only knew, if she could only see how trapped he was. Draco felt sick. His head was spinning and his stomach was queasy in the wake of his flagging rage. He splashed some cold water on his face, then washed the funnel and put it away. He pressed his back against the sink, feeling the edge cut into his spine. The pain cleared his head somewhat, and he took a deep breath.

The little strumpet would pay for her abuse of him. He just had to think of a way. And he would. He was a Malfoy, after all!

October came, and the Halloween feast was an event everyone was looking forward to. Ginny smiled as she and Susan sat by the lake carving pumpkins for the windows of their respective dorms. They had newspapers spread out about them, piled high with pumpkin goo and seeds. Ginny thought about keeping some, to plant a small pumpkin patch at home. She’d owl her mother and see if it was ok.

“Oh Ginny, you’re nose is so red!” Susan laughed, tossing some pumpkin goo at her. Ginny laughed. “Hey!”

“I’m happy to see you smile,” Susan added. “You’ve been rather gloomy this week, and you haven’t spoken of it.”

Typical Susan, Ginny thought wryly, subtle as a thunder storm.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly after a moment. “I’ve had a lot to think about lately. My classes are harder than I had anticipated, and….”

Susan nodded in understanding and decided to say out loud what they both knew.

“And Harry has finally landed the lovely Cho Chang.”

Ginny looked up at her friend, her eyes enormous with emotion, and nodded. There were no tears, however. And Ginny seemed, more than anything else, resigned. Susan felt frustration and anger at both Ginny and Harry. Things shouldn’t have happened this way, but by some ironic twist of fate, they had. Ginny’s love had been there first for Harry and the thick skulled twit had chosen to ignore it. And Ginny! Ginny had chosen to be afraid and live on hope rather than take the initiative and find out what she didn’t want to know. Now her pain was deeper and more profound than if she’d revealed her feelings to Harry long before. So many years, wasted! True love tossed aside like garbage. Susan exhaled impatiently. She had a very real desire to knock them both about with a Bludger!

“You’re thinking rather loudly,” Ginny’s voice cut through her reverie. Susan started, and then smiled.

“Sorry, just considering things,” she said lightly.

“Considering a certain red headed idiot, perhaps?” Ginny smiled and looked at her friend, an almost playful note in her voice. Susan shook her head.

“It’s just that I feel badly for you, and angry about this whole thing! It shouldn’t have happened this way, you know. It didn’t have to.”

“No one is more aware of that than me, Susan,” Ginny replied gravely. “But…it worked out for the best. Harry has loved Cho for a long time and he finally found the courage to tell her and win her. I know you think that might have been me, but I don’t think so. Harry followed his heart and it led him to her!”

Susan wanted to argue, but Ginny’s logic was sound. If only logic and emotion weren’t two different things, she thought, I might believe this isn’t affecting you at all.

“If you believe you made the right choice, than I do too,” she finally said. Ginny smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, Susan. That means the world to me.”

“Now,” Susan picked up her pumpkin again and continued scraping out its insides. “Shall we make them evil or funny?”

“Well if you want an evil one, just carve Malfoy’s face on it!” Ginny replied mischievously. Susan laughed heartily.

“That’ll scare everyone!”

They both laughed at that and began carving in earnest, deciding on funny faces. They chatted about small things, simply enjoying each other’s company and the chill wind that blew across the water, despite the bright sunshine. Neither of them noticed the figure that stood behind a nearby tree. Still for a moment, listening to their chatter, it stealthily moved away towards the castle.

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 6 2003-05-12T02:15:00Z 2003-05-12T02:15:00Z 1 4219 24050 200 56 28213 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 3

Halloween arrived on a chill and stormy morning. Heavy raindrops pelted the roof, making Herbology impossible. The class was cancelled and the girls found themselves with a free hour to do as they pleased. They couldn’t hang out together in one of their dorm rooms, as it was forbidden to reveal the passwords to anyone outside your House, so they elected to go to the library and study. On the way, they passed Ron, Harry, and Cho Chang. Harry and Cho were holding hands. Ginny turned a bit pale, but was able to smile and wave at them. Susan was able to stop herself from flinging her books at Harry’s head.

“Numbskull!” she hissed after they passed. Ginny sighed dramatically.

“Susan, if you can’t keep from getting violent every time we see Harry and Cho, I’m going to have to muzzle you!”

“Oh yes?” Susan grinned. “You just try it, Weasley, and see if you don’t find yourself getting muzzled!”

“A muzzled Weasley, now there’s a pleasant thought!” a cold voice spoke from behind them. The girls whirled around to find Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, sneering at them.

Susan frowned. “Mind your own business, Malfoy! Or is barging into other people’s conversations the only way you get attention?”

“Stuff it, Dresh!” he snapped, turning to face Ginny directly. “My, my, it seems little Ginny got kicked where she lives! How does it feel? Imagine, finding out you’re not even second best in the eyes of your hero!”

Malfoy took a moment to memorize the look on Weasley’s face. Her eyes went wide, and a ripple of pain crossed her features. How does it feel when someone talks down to you like you’re trash? Does it feel like a thousand needles in your soul? I hope it does!

Draco had never been good at recognizing his own hypocrisy

Susan suddenly gripped her books as if to throw them at Draco’s sneering face. “Go away Malfoy, before I call Madam Pince!”

They were right outside the library doors, so Susan’s threat held some validity. But Draco wasn’t finished yet, oh no!

“Call off your dog, Weasley. She has an obnoxious bark.”

“Why you…dirty little...!” Susan sputtered. “This is about that incident in the storeroom, isn’t it?”

Draco’s eyes flew to Susan, his pointy face suddenly sharpening with fury. She knew!

Ginny placed a restraining hand on Susan’s shoulder, realizing that her friend’s imprudence was only going to prolong this. “I have no time for your pettiness, Malfoy. You aren’t worth a dog’s attention, much less my own or Susan’s.”

She turned to go, dragging Susan by the elbow. Draco’s fury boiled over. “At least I don’t have to walk through life being second fiddle to some other bint!”

Direct hit! Ginny snapped back around towards him, her face momentarily revealing all of the pain she’d been holding inside. But it was soon replaced by a cold fury.

“Malfoy, you are a low, half witted, brain dead fool! If you had half of Harry’s character, you wouldn’t be second to him in everything!”

This was not turning out the way Draco had wanted it to. Half witted? Brain dead? Weasley was supposed to be paralyzed with shame or sorrow or something! He had not counted on this…this dragon with a forked tongue! Harry was the chink in her armor and she was supposed to crumble, damnit!

“I have more character than that scarred idiot ever will!” he hissed, beginning to tremble.

Ginny, on the other hand, suddenly calmed. Her gaze once again met his directly, its steady strength piercing him to the core.

“Why do you always feel that you have to beat everyone down in order to be on top?” she asked quietly. Draco reeled at her words.

“What? What are you talking about?” he snapped, feeling his heart twist suddenly.

“Maybe if you, for once, stopped posturing like a rooster, you might actually find a reason to smile!” she continued, her eyes suddenly enormous. Draco stared, swinging between fury and confusion.

“She’s right, you know,” Susan piped, “What has being nasty ever gotten you?”

“Stay out of this, you stupid hag!” Draco roared.

Both Ginny and Susan were almost blown backwards by the volume of this outburst. Madam Pince suddenly appeared, looking around at the lot of them.

“What’s going on here? Who yelled?”

But before anyone could answer, an explosion tore through the west end of the hall.

Everyone turned in shock. Ginny felt her heart thundering in her breast. What on earth? Thick, white smoke billowed from the far end of the corridor. It smelled strangely sweet, like burnt cookies.

Ginny grabbed Susan’s elbow, just to hold on to something. Madam Pince was now racing down the corridor, directing the students coming out of other classrooms to stay put. Several other teachers came out to join her, Professor McGonagall one of them. She turned in the direction of the students at the library door. There was a fair crowd there by now.

“Inside the library, all of you!” she snapped. “Stay there until you’re given leave to return to your dormitories!”

Ginny grabbed Susan’s elbow and pulled her slowly inside the door. Everyone retreated slowly, unsure of what they’d see yet not wanting to miss anything. Ginny was staring so intently towards the scene of the explosion that she bumped into the person in front of her.

“Excuse me!” she said absently, not turning until she was completely inside the library door. Draco stood beside her, glaring but obviously distracted.

“Weasley, my shoes cost more than your whole wardrobe, kindly watch where you’re going!”

Ginny gave a disgusted snort as Draco stalked away. Crabbe and Goyle were already seated at a table, looking confused (which was hardly unusual) and began whispering rapidly to Draco as he joined them. Malfoy scowled and shook his head vehemently. Crabbe spoke again, his expression almost angry. Ginny stared, wondering what on earth could possibly make Crabbe look so…rebellious. But Malfoy rose half out of his chair and spoke angrily, gesturing at Crabbe emphatically. Ginny caught snatches of his words.

“…hasn’t told me…can’t move yet…mind your own business! And stop acting like…!”

“Ginny?” a voice beside her made her jump. It was Susan, looking curiously from her to Draco’s table. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny replied. “Let’s go find a table.”

They walked silently to the back of the library, flinging their books upon an empty table. Ginny tried to comprehend what she’d witnessed. An explosion in the school. She fervently hoped no one had been hurt, and just as fervently hoped it had been an accident. If it hadn’t…if it had been deliberately set…her eyes flew to Malfoy’s table. He was sitting with a book open in front of him, but he wasn’t reading it. He was staring angrily off into space. Crabbe and Goyle were now recovered from whatever had excited their interest, and were idly making paper planes and throwing them at the heads of other students. Draco tossed a disgusted look at them.

He wasn’t happy, so perhaps Voldemort wasn’t behind the incident. She shivered as her thoughts turned to Harry and her brother. The Dark Lord had not made a move in the last few months, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting for the right moment to strike. And something like this was sure to draw Harry, Ron, and Hermione right into his path. They never could let others handle things. But then again, it was a good thing they couldn’t, as she herself wouldn’t be alive today if the three of them hadn’t gone investigating on their own. Ironically, it was they that had cleared Draco of any involvement in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

She froze, struck by that thought. Yes, Draco had been cleared because he wasn’t told what was going on. Could the same thing be happening now?

Ginny looked over at Draco’s table again. Crabbe and Goyle were giggling stupidly as Justin Finch-Fletchley pulled a spit ball out of his hair. I guess paper airplanes got boring, she thought wryly. Draco was rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust. He turned towards her then and their eyes met.

Draco stiffened, a scowl erupting on his face. Ginny blushed at having been caught, but refused to look away and composed her features into what she hoped was an icy expression. She was gratified to see his own cheeks turn suddenly red, but he also continued to stare.

Ginny had never engaged in a contest of wills before, and she felt her heart begin to beat fast as she wondered what the hell she was supposed to do. The thought of being the first one to look away was unacceptable. But they couldn’t just keep staring at each other like that! Ginny began to feel confused and didn’t notice that Draco’s scowl was also melting away. Should I say something? She wondered. How do I get out of this?

His eyes are pretty, she thought. Then she got angry with herself, but it was true. Gray they were, like clouds full of rain, and fairly large in his thin face. For the first time she noticed shadows beneath them, as if he hadn’t been resting well. A part of her mind idly wondered why. Slytherin parties, or was he capable of having nightmares? Vicious dreams of shadows reaching for him, cold laughter echoing around him, until he welcomed the dawn and the chance to leap out of bed?

She didn’t know her expression had softened and that her eyes were once again radiating that steady strength that truly characterized her soul. She only knew that for the first time she was looking at him without anger in her heart and the thought occurred to her that he just might be human inside.

“Ginny?” Susan’s voice suddenly sliced through her reverie. She gasped and whirled around so fast she nearly wrenched her neck.

Susan started herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were a million miles away; I’ve been talking to myself for ten minutes!”

Ginny rubbed the back of her neck, trying not to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry Susan, I was just…worried about Ron.”

“Oh! Do you think he was down the west wing? But we saw him and Harry walking outside, remember?” Susan frowned, looking over in the direction of Draco’s table. “What were you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Ginny said quickly, trying to think of something to distract her friend. “What History of Magic homework did we have?”

Susan’s frowned deepened as she turned back to Ginny. “We had a quiz, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Ginny laughed nervously. Her eyes flew to Draco, and to her relief she saw that he was hunched down in his chair, holding his book in front of his face. She turned back and stared at the ground, trying to will her heart to stop pounding. What had come over her?

“Well, are you going to tell me what you were staring at?” Susan persisted, suddenly irritating her friend.

“Nothing Susan, I said I was worried about Ron!”

“Sorry!” Susan raised her hands in supplication. “I meant no offense, I beg forgiveness!”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, stop. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just scared. I hope no one was in whatever room exploded.”

“I do too.” Susan tossed her blond hair, her face puckering in a frown again. “Seamus should be in Potions right now. He’s safe!”

“Oh Susan, I forgot! I’m sure he’s safe!” Ginny hugged her friend tightly. “Let’s just hope that room was empty!”

Susan hugged her back, nodding. “It’ll be all right. It was an accident, I’m sure. What else could have caused it?”

Neither girl would voice their fear. Ginny straightened and noticed the teachers filing back in to the library, Professor Dumbledore with them.

“Your attention please!” came the voice of the headmaster. The students went quiet immediately as he gestured for silence.

“I have good news and bad news,” he said gravely. “The good news is that the accident took place in a storage room, so no one was hurt!”

The room stirred with relieved murmuring, and the Headmaster once again gestured for silence. Ginny suddenly noticed Snape enter and whisper to Professor Dumbledore, who nodded before turning back to the students.

“The bad news is that the Halloween feast will have to be cancelled.”

“What?” Susan gasped. All around similar outbursts were taking place, especially among the first and second years. One young girl burst into tears. “I spent ages on my costume!” she sobbed.

“Students, please!” Dumbledore called for silence again, and the rumbling stopped. “This is for your own safety! Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and I will be conducting an investigation into what precisely caused the accident. That will take the whole of this day, and perhaps into the weekend. You are excused from all further classes. Please return to your common rooms for the remainder of the day. That is all.”

“Well, that’s that.” Susan said briskly, gathering her books. “Pity about tonight though, I was looking forward to spending it with you and Seamus. Now we might be restricted until next week!”

“I’m sure we won’t” Ginny replied, though she was worried. For Professor Dumbledore to restrict everyone to their common rooms meant that he had a reason for being concerned, and Ginny knew of very few things that could cause the headmaster to feel such a way.

Voldemort was one of them.

No! She thought fiercely. It’s not about him. It was an accident!

But as she filed out of the library with the rest of the students, Ginny couldn’t stop the little sliver of fear that worked its way into her heart.

They filed down to the staircases that led to the four common rooms. Ginny and Susan said their goodbyes, and then melted in with their respective housemates. On the way to the entrance of Gryffindor tower, Ginny spotted Ron, who rushed over to her.

“Ginny! You’re all right!” He hugged her, looking pale and scared. Ginny was surprised.

“Of course I’m all right! I was worried about you, too,” she replied, turning to hug Harry as well. He grinned at her, his eyes warm with brotherly affection.

“Knew you’d be ok. But you were near the library, weren’t you? We thought you might have been in it!”

“We saw it. Susan and I, I mean. Madam Pince and Professor McGonagall were off the moment it happened, though. No one was hurt.”

“Thank goodness!” Hermione joined them, taking Ginny’s hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “Do they know what caused it?”

“Professor Dumbledore is going to investigate with McGonagall and Snape. He said it might take through the weekend.”

“Snape?” Harry asked softly, causing Ginny to look at him curiously. He exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, and then nodded slowly.

“Makes sense,” Ron said, looking seriously at Harry. Hermione nodded in agreement. They all seemed to have forgotten Ginny was there.

“What makes sense?” she asked a little forcefully, making them start.

“Nothing,” Harry responded. “Was Susan all right?”

Ginny suddenly wondered if he would ever dare to ignore Cho like that! “She was fine but disappointed that she won’t get to see me and Seamus tonight, though. So what were you-“

“Ginny!”

She turned to find a white faced Seamus running towards her. “Ginny, you’re all right! Was Susan hurt?”

She clasped his hand. “She’s perfectly fine, Seamus. She sends her love.”

“I was so worried!” He closed his eyes. “I heard that the two of you were near the explosion. What happened?”

Ginny felt a rush of irritation. She didn’t have time for this; she wanted to speak to Harry about what he’d been talking about. “They don’t know yet,” she said hurridly, “They’re investigating. Now if you’ll excuse me-“

She turned back to talk to Harry and the others, but they were gone. She looked around the common room, leaving Seamus gawking at her. But the trio had either gone upstairs or was out where they shouldn’t be.

She scowled, frustration bubbling up in her belly. She wasn’t a baby, why did they continue to treat her like one? Was it too much to ask of The Fantastic Trio to trust in her? Turning on her heel, she marched up the stairs to her room and fell to brooding.

Draco sat in a corner chair of the Slytherin common room, listening to the excited chatter around him. Everyone was speculating on whether or not the explosion was a direct attack by the Dark Lord or merely an accident. The favorite theory at the moment was an attack, but some were not pleased about it.

“It’s bad,” said Frieda Lawson, a sixth year who was exceptionally brilliant at curses. “The Dark Lord arose almost two years ago now. But what has he done? He still hasn’t reclaimed the power he once had, and his allies are deserting him faster than rats upon a sinking ship! They don’t want to be beholden to him again. And why should they? Why should anyone? We work hard to raise our fortunes, to spread our power. Why should he reap all of the benefits, when he doesn’t contribute?”

“Because he holds more knowledge of the dark arts than anyone living!” snarled Mordred Bowen, a fifth year whose family could trace its lineage back to Merlin. Or so they claimed. “The Dark Lord richly rewards those who faithfully serve him, with long life, monetary wealth, and power over your enemies. He could lead us to a day when we will all be free of the Mudblood scourge.”

“So he claims!” Frieda sneered. “But all that has happened so far is a lot of talk, and most of it hasn’t even been from him.”

“You are too young to remember, Frieda,” the soft voice of Jared Stone, a burly seventh year whose accomplishments in transfiguration were second only to Hermione Granger’s, snaked into the conversation. “We all are! Our parents saw his rise and fall, and we would do well to heed their words.”

He suddenly turned towards Draco, his gaze narrowing. “What say you, Malfoy? Your family has always been part of the Inner Circle. Does your father share with you the secrets that he’s been told?”

Draco’s expression became so cold his eyes resembled chips of ice. He leaned forward, his face becoming dimly visible in the half-light of the fire. “What the Malfoys are told stays with us. We are not the trusted servants of the Dark Lord for nothing!”

Those nearest to him went silent. Draco’s steely gaze bore into Stone’s, causing him to look away with a nervous laugh. “Of course, that’s always the way of things, isn’t it?”

Draco didn’t bother to reply. He merely sat back, allowing the shadows to envelope him once more. He had crushed the impudence of an inferior and he had nothing more to prove. Crabbe and Goyle were grinning, proud to be his supporters at such a moment.

After a while, the conversation resumed and the topic shifted to the cancellation of the Halloween party. Most present declared their indifference, but Draco knew they were disappointed, especially the younger students. And why not? It might be silly, but it was one way to pass the evening. Definitely better than sitting in the common room, listening to the bickering and posturing of fellow students! Draco looked over at Crabbe and Goyle, his dear friends. They were currently engaged in an arm wrestling match, their faces screwed tight with their concentrated efforts.

Friends to be proud of! They might even graduate if he helped them through their finals again.

Draco was suddenly tired. Tired of listening to this useless talk, tired of looking at the two idiots he called friends and most of all tired of sitting in the shadows looking mysterious and pretending to know more than he did. The truth was he had no idea if the explosion had been an attack. He hadn’t heard anything from his father since leaving for school. And though his mother owled him every week, she was ignorant of anything that might concern Voldemort’s plans. Lucius Malfoy had not married Narcissa McFain for her intelligence. And her love of gossip made her untrustworthy as a confidante.

Draco stood suddenly and walked to the stairs, heading for his room. Crabbe and Goyle started to follow, but he waved them away. He wanted to be alone; he needed to think. Climbing the stairs, he felt exhaustion creep into every limb until his legs burned with fatigue.

Once in his dorm, he threw off his robe and stripped down to his underwear, letting the chill air tingle his skin. Discomfort always cleared his head somewhat, and lately his mind had suffered many disturbances, the biggest one of all being Ginny Weasley.

He scowled as he thought of her, running a hand through his hair restlessly. She had hounded his thoughts, her cold fury a sharp sting to his pride. She had insulted and degraded him in ways he’d rarely experienced. He was constantly plotting revenge, but everything seemed to backfire. He’d thought that twisting the knife called Harry Potter into her broken heart would do it, but she’d proven stronger than that. His thoughts flew to that moment in the library. He’d seen that strength in her eyes, those enormous, beautiful brown eyes that seemed to reach across the space between them and draw him into their depths. He’d felt her strength, felt it radiate from her soul and envelope him. It had been the warmest feeling he’d ever experienced.

He stood abruptly and began tossing clothes out of his trunk, looking for his pajamas. His face tightened so badly it began to hurt, and he felt his stomach cramp. He roughly pulled on his bed clothes, tearing the delicate silk top but not caring. His mind emptied with his intense concentration on physical activity, so he grabbed his robe and swept out of his dorm. He didn’t look where he was going, he just moved.

Before he knew it he found himself at the foot of the stairs to the common room, where most of his housemates still sat awake. He looked over the room and saw that most of them were seated near the fireplace. The back of the common room was deep in shadow, and there were some pieces of furniture -- like the big writing desk -- that, if necessary, he could duck behind. Moving with admirable stealth, he made it to the entrance without drawing any attention and was quickly out the door.

Once outside, Draco didn’t stop to think, he just walked. His feet were bare, as he’d forgotten his slippers, but he welcomed the almost painful chill as another barrier against the insufferable thoughts in his mind. He walked with head down, almost leaning forward, hands clasped behind his back. The stone floor seemed to swim past his feet with the speed of his movement, as the light of the moon and the shadows mingled in a dizzying pattern upon it. White light, pure and innocent, like her smile…

“NO!” he jumped at the sound of his own voice.

Draco’s heart thundered in his chest. Looking around, he saw that he was climbing the stairs to the Tower, the entrance only a few feet away. He frowned, wondering what had brought him here. His legs were burning with fatigue again, but he was near the top. Would it be open right now? He slowly climbed the last few steps and tried the knob. The door opened easily and he walked outside.

The tower’s Lunoscopes and other observation equipment were covered in drop cloths. The ceiling stretched about five feet from the castle wall behind him, and then ended abruptly, leaving a nice large space to observe the heavens or to look out at the grounds. Draco walked to the edge of the wall and looked out at the lake, a strong wind blowing his hair back and chilling him to the bone. His feet were numb with cold and his eyes watered from the lash of the wind. But somehow this didn’t seem to matter as he stared at the moon’s reflected light on the water. The shadow of the Forbidden Forest loomed ominously behind the lake, and in the distance Draco heard a long, mournful howl. A werewolf? Lupin perhaps?

He smiled nastily at this, remembering how the young professor had always favored the Gryffindors, just as Snape always favored his own House. But thinking of the Gryffindors brought Ginny’s image sharply into focus, and Draco whirled away from the peaceful scene below him. He never saw the large animal shape that ran from the Forest towards the Whomping Willow.

A cloud passed before the moon, throwing everything into shadow. He threw himself down, ignoring the freezing chill that climbed up his rear to his spine. Was there no escaping her? Why did she intrude on his thoughts, disturbing what little peace he had? He remembered the warmth that had pervaded his being as they’d stared each other down, and he found himself wanting to feel it again.

“Ridiculous!” he growled. She was a Weasley, a Mudblood loving tart! Quite suddenly, the memory of his first words to Ron flashed into his mind:

“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford!”

He blushed, but didn’t know why. More children….yes, he hadn’t had a Weasley free term at Hogwarts since he’d started.

But why was he thinking about this?

Lowering his head, Draco forced himself to consider the accident, if indeed it was one, and nothing else. It was quite possible that it had been completely innocent, since there had been no one near enough to get hurt. What would have been the purpose, if not to cause an injury or death? Destroying something? What was in the west wing worth destroying? He frowned. Transfiguration class, the library, the storage rooms, Filch’s broom closet -- what else? And was it anything important?

Whoff!

Draco froze, his head snapping up. The noise had come from the stairs! He sat absolutely still, straining his ears for the slightest sound.

Whuff, snuff, snuff! Snort!

It sounded like an animal. Draco looked wildly around. What would an animal be doing in the castle? There were only the owls and the pets of students – cats and toads. But this sounded like…a dog!

Snuff, whuff!

Draco didn’t wait any longer. He gathered his numb legs and feet under him, ignoring the cramping pain, and crawled as quietly as he could behind the largest telescope, just as the door eased open.

As carefully as he could, Draco peeked out from behind the telescope as an enormous, black shape padded in. It had its head to the ground, sniffing deeply and growling softly. Draco felt his heart pound as the creature began to sniff a trail towards the wall -- to the very spot where he’d been sitting!

Trying to stay calm, Draco tensed his body to run if he were spotted. He had severe doubts as to whether he’d get away, however. Is it a dog? He thought fearfully. Somehow he didn’t think so, though it resembled one. It was thin through the flanks like a dog, and its snout was long and pointed. Suddenly the clouds that had been building parted, and in the light of the moon Draco saw the beast clearly.

A werewolf!

His heart thundered, and fear suddenly threatened to choke him. The werewolf was hunched over the spot where he’d been sitting, sniffing carefully and its growls becoming louder. He had to run, escape! But the strength suddenly left his legs and he was paralyzed with fear. The creature’s head snapped up suddenly, causing Draco to gasp audibly.

GrrrrrRAAFF!!!

He had been spotted! The werewolf’s eyes bored into his, and Draco knew he was trapped.

Normal Raquel Dodd 3 8 2003-05-13T09:04:00Z 2003-05-13T09:05:00Z 1 3488 19884 165 46 23326 10.2625 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 4

Ginny stared up at the Tower staircase, wondering at her sanity. She needed to go to Dumbledore, or McGonagall -- anyone! There was a werewolf in the castle, and she was the only one who knew!

Slowly, as quietly as she could, she began to climb the stairs. As she did she cursed the curiosity and anger that had landed her in this position. After Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared that afternoon, she’d spent about fifteen minutes on her bed brooding. It was unfair the way they didn’t trust her and kept all the mystery and intrigue for themselves. She’d gotten so angry that she’d gone downstairs determined to find them. On the excuse that she’d forgotten something in the library, she escaped the common room and headed there as a starting point. The trio was not in the library, and Ginny had a close call when Madam Pince almost spotted her. Making it out of the library, she was startled by voices down the corridor. It was Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, discussing their investigation in one of the classrooms. She heard snatches of their conversation filter out.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Dumbledore’s voice said. “He has my implicit trust, and I cannot see where you’re going with this, Severus.”

“My point, Headmaster, is that very few people know of the entrance at the Whomping Willow. I know you…favor him, but to be fair we cannot rule out-“

“That’s ridiculous, Severus!” McGonagall’s voice snapped. “What you’re suggesting is contrary to what we know of the man!”

The voices began moving out of whatever room they were in, and Ginny was forced to run as quietly as she could for the stairs, her heart pounding. Once safely downstairs, she pondered what she’d heard.

The entrance at the Whomping Willow? She hadn’t known there was a door anywhere around there. It wasn’t even close to the castle! How could there be an entrance there? Ginny looked around, wondering where to go next. Harry was very tenacious once he started investigating something, but she had no idea how he accomplished the things he usually did. Well, she wasn’t going to let that stop her! There was no way she could investigate the Whomping Willow at that moment. The front doors would be watched, and everyone was supposed to be in the common room. Still, she wasn’t ready to go back yet. So she headed downstairs, towards the kitchens. There she finally ran into the Fantastic Trio, all loaded down with cakes, tarts, fudge, and jugs of pumpkin juice. They claimed to have gone to the kitchens for treats so Gryffindor could throw its own Halloween party, and Ginny might have believed them had it not been for the fact that not one of them would look her straight in the eye. It hurt and angered her, but she pretended to swallow their story, determined to do some investigating of her own once everyone had gone to bed.

A resolve easier said than done! The party lasted well after midnight, as the next day was Saturday, and Ginny had eaten a lot once her anger had cooled and more than once had almost nodded off! But the biggest problem had been the trio themselves. They didn’t seem a bit tired, even when the clock struck two thirty, and everyone else had finally retired. It was then that she’d gotten the distinct impression that they, too, were waiting for everyone to go to bed -- including her! So she casually yawned and said goodnight, climbing the stairs to the girl’s dorm, opening and closing it without going in.

Not many seconds passed before she heard the subtle murmur of their voices, and movement. A moment later she heard the portrait door open and close, followed by silence. They were gone. Ginny headed after them in a flash. Yet no matter how she ran, they eluded her, seeming to have disappeared into thin air! She’d headed for the kitchens again, straining her ears for their voices, but all was silent. She walked through darkened corridors, heading into parts of the castle she had never seen before. But no Harry, no Ron, no Hermione. This was not what she’d had in mind! She had walked for over an hour before she heard the growling.

Ginny stared up at the top of the Tower stairwell where she could just make out the moonlight spilling in through an open door. A sudden gust of cold air made her shiver, and she tugged her sweatshirt down. She couldn’t remember what part of the castle she was in. She had just heard a large, growling animal down an opposite corridor and had elected to follow it at a distance before waking one of the professors, so she would be able to tell them where it had gone. As she’d followed it, cringing every time it growled or whuffed, she’d realized that the creature seemed to understand where it was going. It moved with a purposeful gait, and when it sniffed the ground it didn’t stop walking. It turned this corner and that with confidence, sometimes not even bothering to look up. It had chilled Ginny to see a wild creature act so…human! Her heart hammered with fear as she stared up at the open door. She could shut it, trap it, and then run for Professor Dumbledore. But she was terrified that it was right on the other side of the door.

Stop it! She scolded herself. If she left now, the creature might escape. Then it could go anywhere it wanted to in the castle. That would put everyone in danger, and she couldn’t just run away and let that happen. What if it broke into one of the common rooms? Though this was almost impossible to do magically, would the doors’ securities be able to prevent physically forced entrances, especially by powerful beasts? Ginny didn’t know, and thinking of Susan made her not want to take the chance. Besides, Harry wouldn’t back down from this!

That decided it! Ginny screwed up her courage and began climbing the steps. She was so scared she could hear her own heartbeat, but this only made her more determined. She took a step, then another, until she was almost running towards the door. With each step she took, Ginny found more courage, and moved more quickly, wanting to slam shut the door and run to Dumbledore as fast as she could! She was halfway up the stairs when she heard the creature growl loudly. She froze for a split second, and then ran towards the door. Three steps from it, Ginny reached out to grasp the knob. Just as her fingers closed around it, she heard a strangled cry.

Already in motion, Ginny slammed the door shut before she completely froze.

GRRRROOOWWLLLL!!!!

The creature roared loudly, making her squeal in fright. But then another cry joined the creature’s growls -- a human cry! Someone was on the tower with the beast!

For a moment, Ginny simply stared at the door in horror. She had trapped an innocent person up there with the werewolf! What should she do? She couldn’t run for help, it might be too late for the victim. What if it was Susan? The thought made Ginny’s heart thud with terror. She had to do something! With no other choice, she grasped the doorknob and leapt inside.

She ran past the observation instruments and out into the uncovered part of the landing. Immediately she spotted the werewolf crouched on the ground, its jaws clamped around a boy’s throat. Ginny stopped and would have screamed if her voice hadn’t deserted her. Then she realized the boy was whimpering and there was no blood. The creature’s mouth was on the boy’s throat, yes, but its jaws hadn’t penetrated the skin. It seemed to be merely holding the boy stationary. The creature’s blue left eye was fixed on Ginny, and its growls sounded very threatening.

“Help me!” the boy cried hoarsely. “Please!”

“Draco!” Ginny squealed, recognizing him for the first time. She bounced in panic, not knowing what to do. Then Draco’s whimpers turned to gasps of pain, as the creatures jaws finally began to tighten. She saw his mouth open wide in a silent scream of pain, and blood appeared suddenly on his collar.

“Stop!” she screamed, picking up a nearby metal rod and throwing it at the wolf. The rod glanced off the creature’s skull, and it dropped Malfoy, instead turning upon her.

GRRROOOOWWLLLLLLLL!!!

Ginny was too terrified to stand and continued to bounce on the balls of her feet. The werewolf was angry now, and Ginny’s mind raced as she tried to think of some way to knock it out. She didn’t have her wand with her, as she’d left her robes in her room. And as she grabbed a second piece of metal (she didn’t pay attention to what it was) she wondered what her parents would say when the school contacted them to inform them that she’d been eaten by a werewolf.

The creature suddenly stood on its hind legs and let out an earsplitting howl.

OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The volume of the cry stunned her, making her stumble and drop the metal piece. She made a grab for it, and at the same moment the werewolf pounced on her. Its huge paws struck her back, pushing her to the ground. Ginny screamed in terror. She felt her head strike the stone floor, and her left arm bend awkwardly beneath her, elbow cracking as it struck the ground. Her face was pressed hard against the stone, and she could taste blood from where she’d bit her lip. The shooting pain in her arm made her struggles weak, but struggle she did. She had no intention of ending her life the meal of a wild animal!

Crack! The sickening thud of metal on bone met her ears, and the werewolf flew off of Ginny. She rolled over immediately and began to scuttle backwards to get away. That’s when she saw Draco, the metal telescope in his hands bent from striking the skull of the creature. He turned to her and held out his hand.

“Come on!” he yelled, dropping the telescope and moving towards her. Ginny didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, ignoring the pain in her arm. Malfoy stumbled weakly from pain and fear, and instinctively Ginny grabbed him around the waist and propelled him towards the exit. The wolf was wobbling on all fours, stunned, but it would recover soon enough. Ginny didn’t look behind her, she just kept her eyes focused on the door. Once they reached it, she tossed Malfoy through and grabbed the knob, slamming and locking the door behind them just as the werewolf reached it. The creature howled in rage, throwing its body against the door. Ginny backed away, staring at the hinges that were bending with the force of the creature’s blows. She backed right into Draco.

She gasped and turned towards him, then winced as a fresh wave of pain shot through her arm.

“You all right?” he whispered, grabbing her shoulder and studying her face.

She gritted her teeth against the pain and nodded.

“Good,” he said, staring intently at her. Her eyes fluttered open after a moment, and Draco was fascinated by how vulnerable she appeared. Her skin was waxen, her eyes enormous with pain, and her lip was swollen slightly, bloody from where she’d bitten it. He found himself wanting very much to lick it clean.

“Uh…we should go!” he stammered, looking quickly away.

Ginny felt weak from the trauma, but she had noticed Draco looking at her…very strangely. It had made her feel strange, at least. She felt her stomach flutter as she looked at his pale face, his blond hair falling into his eyes. It had grown a bit longer than she was used to seeing on him, the back almost touching his collar. She saw a white hand reach up and sweep the hair aside, smoothing it behind one ear. Then she realized it was her own. His eyes rose and met hers, and for a moment they just stared. Then, as one, they straightened and drew away from each other as another loud bang resonated through the stairwell.

“I’m going to Dumbledore!” she said quickly, as they began to trot down the stairs. “We have to tell him right away!”

“You go to him, I’ll get Professor Snape!” Draco replied, “Then get yourself to Madam Pomfrey!”

“You should go to her now!” Ginny gasped, looking at his neck with sudden fear, “It bit you!”

Draco stopped walking and stared at her, the color draining from his face. He started to touch his neck, but yanked his hand away. Snape, he had to find the Potion Master!

“Come on!” he hissed, grabbing her elbow and walking faster than before

They walked as quickly as they could down the hall. Draco seemed to know where he was going. “My common room is over here,” he said quickly, “but I think Professor Snape might still be in his office. Where’s Dumbledore’s office?”

Ginny halted suddenly, realizing she didn’t know. The reason she’d kept thinking of getting him was because, like most everyone, she believed there was nothing the headmaster couldn’t handle. But she hadn’t stopped to remember that she had no idea where he lived!

“What?” he asked her, frowning. She felt a stab of anger, but whether at him or in response to her own ignorance, she wasn’t sure.

They turned suddenly as voices floated towards them. It was Snape and the Headmaster, followed by Professor McGonagall.

“Miss Weasley!” she gasped, “Mr. Malfoy! What on earth are you doing here?”

Ginny had the sudden, sinking feeling that they were in trouble. She opened her mouth to explain, when suddenly the corridor’s silence was shattered by the music of the werewolf’s howl.

Everyone gasped and whirled around. The creature was standing behind them on its hind legs, blood dripping from its jaws. Ginny felt her heart thunder in her chest, while confused fear nearly blinded her. How had it gotten down there without their hearing the door crash in? She ran behind the teachers, along with Draco. Dumbledore had his wand out already, and his eyes nearly glowed with power.

“STUPEFY!” he bellowed, just as the creature leaped. Ginny screamed as it let out a yelp and fell unconscious at their feet.

They all stood for a moment, just looking at the creature. Its rib cage rose and fell with its rapid breathing, and blood was now spilling from its jaws. Ginny stared in horror, suddenly remembering how she had found Draco. Her eyes flew to him.

“You were bitten!” she gasped, her eyes wide.

Snape turned to his student, grabbing his chin and jerking his head up, while Professor Mconagall pulled out a handkerchief and tried to clean his wound. Snape knocked her hand away angrily, unable to see the wound clearly in the dim light.

“Take them both to the hospital wing, Severus,” Dumbledore said quickly. “Minerva, please get Hagrid here immediately!”

Snape didn’t answer; he just grabbed Draco and Ginny hard by their upper arms and fairly pushed them down the corridor. Draco almost stumbled twice, but the professor’s grip was strong, and kept him upright. As he was propelled along, Draco found himself feeling remarkably empty. He’d been bitten by a werewolf! There’s no cure for the bite, he thought dazedly. What would happen to him? Would he now turn into a monstrous, shaggy wolf? The thought made him cringe inwardly, but he was too numb to feel anything beyond that. To be bitten by a werewolf was to be the recipient of a powerful curse, one that no amount of magic or medicine could cure. He noticed the moonlight filtering in through the windows reflecting upon the floor. It would be his enemy, the signal for change into a mindless beast. No more Hogwarts, no acceptance. He thought of Professor Lupin, poor and derided because of his condition, which made him think of his parents, particularly his father. Oh God! What will he say? Draco’s heart finally began to pound in terror in reaction to this thought. Lucius Malfoy was a merciless racist, and Draco had no idea if he would make any exception for his own son! He might very well find himself disowned and discarded. He turned to Ginny then and found her staring at him, her expression filled with fear and pity. He jerked his gaze away.

“Please stay calm, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said mildly, as his grip tightened on Draco’s arm and he walked even faster. They arrived at the hospital wing in record time.

Madam Pomfrey took Draco first, and with a damp towel began to clean his wounds. “Looks bad, there’s a lot of blood,” she murmured worriedly. Draco shut his eyes against the pity on her face. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t really here!

Suddenly Madam Pomfrey called out to Snape in an excited voice. “Professor, the skin isn’t broken!”

Draco’s eyes flew open and focused on the face of the school nurse, his heart tripping worse than ever. Snape strode over quickly, his face crunched in a look of angry concern, and bent to examine Draco’s neck. After a moment, his expression cleared.

“Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. You’ve avoided a fate worse than death.”

Draco didn’t know he was going to cry until the moment that he did. Relief surged through his whole body, and he went limp and weak as the tears coursed down his cheeks. He faced his teacher, mouth opening and closing, unable to speak or make any sound. Madam Pomfrey looked at him with compassion, and held up a small mirror.

“See for yourself, Mr. Malfoy. It bit you hard, but not hard enough!”

Draco grabbed the mirror and anxiously examined his wound. There were swollen, red tooth marks on his neck -- tender still, the skin around them beginning to bruise. But he was whole, no curse to ruin his life and crush his soul.

“Yes,” Snape said briskly, taking the mirror from him. “Now he needs rest. And you have another patient.”

Madam Pomfrey quickly settled Draco into a corner bed, and then bustled over to Ginny. Her elbow was indeed cracked, and she had a large bruise forming on her head where she’d struck the pavement. The nurse mended her bones in a flash and gave her something warm to drink as she settled her in the bed next to Malfoy’s. Snape had gone as soon as Malfoy had been settled to report the good news to Dumbledore. As she lay in the bed, sipping her drink, Ginny felt exhaustion sweep over her. What a night! Happy Halloween indeed! This definitely hadn’t been a treat. The nurse came and took their mugs, advising them to get some sleep, and extinguishing the candles. Ginny didn’t need the encouragement. But as she closed her eyes she heard Malfoy sniffle a bit, and she turned to him in the darkness.

“Are you all right?” she whispered. He was silent for several minutes, and Ginny was about to ask again when he spoke.

“No, I’m not,” he replied flatly. “I was almost a werewolf. This has been the worst week of my life!”

Ginny frowned, feeling a surge of irritation. “Well you’re not a werewolf! Things aren’t all bad. Maybe life will get better from here.”

“My father might have disowned me, you know,” Draco continued. “I might have been expelled!”

“You might also be dead!” she said angrily, “Or you might be facing a monthly transformation into a monster!”

As soon as she said it, a wickedly funny thought struck Ginny. Ha! Then you would know what we girls go through every month! She had to slam her hand over her mouth to keep from snickering. In the dim light of the room, she saw him frown.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing!” she replied quickly, hoping he wouldn’t pursue it. But the thought was spreading through her mind, and she suddenly let out a snort of laughter. Draco scowled.

“I’m so glad you find my suffering amusing!” he snarled.

“Oh please!” she snapped, her humor disappearing, “You survived an encounter with a werewolf, with no harmful effects to show for it! You aren’t getting expelled or disowned. Allow me to thank you for all your concern. I mean, I live to save your life! It’s one of my hobbies.”

Draco fell silent, chagrined and not wanting to admit it, just as he didn’t want to admit that he was growing addicted to the fire in her eyes. His own eyes narrowed as he attempted to throw up a barrier of anger between them.

“No need for sarcasm, Weasley. Allow me to thank you for accidentally finding me and doing the right thing!”

Her mouth dropped open at his arrogance, and her blood began to boil. “You ungrateful twit!” she hissed, “I should have let that thing rip you to pieces!”

His lip curled in a confident sneer. “Don’t be silly. You’re too sentimental to do that…Gryffindor!”

“And you,” she replied furiously, “are too horrible for words, snake!”

With that, Ginny turned away from him and pulled the covers over her head, seething with anger. Malfoy stared at her prone figure, forcing himself to stay silent and not apologize. He’d felt a stab of pain in his heart at her words, and he tried very hard to convince himself it was nothing. She’s a Weasley, a worthless rag doll, he thought. No riches, no refined mannerisms, no taste. She was nothing like Pansy Parkinson.

Nothing like Pansy Parkinson. No plastic smiles, no simpering compliments, no false praise, just honest anger and unbelievable courage.

A true Lion Heart.

He felt his heart and soul grow warm with the most unfamiliar feelings as he continued to stare at her well after she fell asleep.

Hagrid shook his shaggy head and threw a bloody rag into a bucket of warm water.

“It’s sick, Professor,” the gamekeeper said sadly. “I’m not right sure wha’s causin’ it. But I’d say it’s a blood sickness, like in them’s that can’ stop bleedin’ when they’re cut on the finger, or summat like tha’.”

“Do you mean hemophilia?” Dumbledore shook his silver maned head in concern. The werewolf was still unconscious. And as the early light of dawn began to pour across the sky, the Headmaster’s concern for his students increased. “I do hope Severus is almost through.”

No sooner had the headmaster spoke than a sharp knock was heard on the shed’s door. Without waiting for a reply, Snape walked in carrying a goblet of smoking liquid. “It’s ready.”

“Thanks Professor.” Hagrid took the mug and a baster, and started squeezing and pouring the liquid down the animal’s throat.

“Thank you, Severus,” the headmaster said quietly. “Now at least we can be sure the poor creature won’t be a danger.”

“Are you so certain, Headmaster?” Snape asked, frowning. “Werewolves are human as well. And as such, their hearts are not always predictable.”

“I am well aware of that, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore replied calmly, “Which is why I’ve taken the added precaution of placing an Unbreakable Charm on this shed.”

“I hope it will cooperate, then,” Snape murmured darkly.

“As do I, Severus. We will allow the creature to rest until tomorrow, and then I will attempt telepathic communication if it doesn’t regain human form by then.”

“Shouldn’ be a problem, Professor,” Hagrid said, straightening up from his task. “The moon’ll on’y be full one more night.”

Dumbledore nodded, hoping that answers could be gained as painlessly as possible.

Normal Raquel Dodd 3 38 2003-05-13T09:06:00Z 2003-05-13T09:07:00Z 1 2962 16887 140 39 19810 10.2625 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 5

Ginny stood stiffly in front of the wash basin, scrutinizing her reflection. There were dark circles under her eyes and her complexion could at best be called pasty. She had slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares of shadows, cold laughter, and the monstrous howling of a lone wolf. She sighed, wondering if she would ever be free of the nightmares that disturbed her sleep at odd intervals.

Her comfort was that, since it was Saturday, she would be able to collapse back into bed once she reached Gryffindor Tower. She rarely had nightmares when she slept during the day, though she didn’t know why. She finished washing up, and then stepped back out into the infirmary where Draco was waiting for her to finish.

“About time!” he snapped. “Did you fall asleep Weasley?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and smiled, too tired to be baited. “Sorry Malfoy. It’s all yours!”

He scowled as he brushed past her into the washroom, and Ginny felt a stab of satisfaction. Pretending to be in a good mood was one way of getting even with Malfoy, particularly since he looked worse than she did! She had awoke that morning to the sound of Madam Pomfrey lecturing Draco on the benefits of a good night’s sleep, and had looked over to see him propped up against his pillow, staring stonily at the nurse with bloodshot eyes. Practically the same position he’d been in the night before. Ginny wondered if perhaps he’d been having nightmares too, but was still too angry at him to ask or care. Madam Pomfrey interrupted her thoughts by coming over to examine her head.

“That’ll fade in no time, Miss Weasley,” she said reassuringly. “Just don’t turn your head too quickly today, as it still might be tender.”

Ginny promised to be careful as Draco came walking out of the washroom. She took her leave then, wanting to get to her room and bed as soon as possible. She had just closed the door behind her when she heard her name, and looking down the corridor, saw Ron and Harry coming towards her. She smiled and hurried over to them.

“Are you all right?” Ron asked anxiously, giving her a hug.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. “It’s just a bruise.”

“What did you think you were doing?” Harry scowled. “You might have been seriously hurt!”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t you dare lecture me, Harry Potter! The pot is not allowed to call the kettle black!”

It was Harry’s turn to look taken aback. He and Ron exchanged amazed looks, and then Ron began to laugh. “Yeah, ok. She’s right, you know. Now we know how everyone else feels when we go off!”

Harry laughed too. “All right, sorry sis, just got carried away. We were really worried, is all.”

Sis, Ginny thought. That’s all I’ll ever be to you. She felt the familiar ache in her heart, but for the first time she realized it didn’t hurt as badly as before. Her soul was healing and she was finally moving on. The knowledge lifted her spirits a bit more, allowing her to return their smiles.

“All right, I forgive you,” she said lightly, “Heavens! I never could stay angry at the two of you, though you’re not as much fun as Fred and George.”

They all laughed at that, and Ginny hugged Harry tightly. At that moment, the infirmary door opened and Malfoy walked out, freezing momentarily at the sight of them. Ginny was still smiling as she turned towards the sound, but sobered instantly when her eyes met Draco’s flushed and furious expression.

“Morning Malfoy,” Ron cried jovially, “Heard you had a run in with a werewolf. Pity it didn’t have you for supper!”

The ugly red weals were still visible, and Draco’s hand flew to his neck.

“Goodness, in your jammies even!” Harry snickered. “Would have been bloody stylish, wouldn’t it, to have died in such fine silk!”

“Stop it!” Ginny reproved them quietly, “It’s not funny.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Weasley.” Draco said even more quietly. His glare grew cold as ice as he turned and swept down the hall.

“Well good day to you, too, milord!” Ron guffawed, causing Harry to snort derisively.

“Boys, stop it!” Ginny hissed, feeling guilt squeeze her heart. Ron and Harry turned to her, still grinning with pleasure.

“Sorry, Gin, but he’s had that coming for a long time!” Harry said with great satisfaction.

“You don’t understand,” she said softly, her brow furrowed, “It was horrible! That thing almost killed him. It isn’t funny, even if it is Draco Malfoy.”

The boys stopped laughing and looked at her. She was clenching and unclenching her hands, staring into the distance with remembered fear. Ron put his arm around her.

“Sorry sis, you’ve been through something awful and we’re being insensitive.”

“Come on,” Harry smiled gently, “Let’s get you some breakfast!”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “And afterwards, Hogsmeade!”

“Really, you mean that?” she asked, smiling with pleasure finally. Ron and Harry almost always went alone, or with Hermione in tow.

“Of course, it’ll be fun!” Harry grinned. “Besides, you’ll get to hang out with Cho finally. She’s been dying to get to know you better.”

Ginny suddenly felt as if she’d swallowed a hot potato. All that mess about her getting over Harry suddenly flew out the nearest window. Hang out with them? See them together for a whole day? Impossible!

“Well, actually…I’m still a bit tired-“

“Aw, come on Ginny, it’ll be great!” Ron said excitedly, “And Susan’s been bouncing off the walls since she heard, you know. She made us promise we’d bring you with us today since she and Seamus have already gone.”

“Susan? Oh…” It seemed she was trapped. The world spun as Harry took her elbow and began to pull her along.

“It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” He smiled. “And it’ll take your mind off of things.”

Ginny looked up at him and held his eyes for a moment. They were warm with affection and concern, and something else, too. Guilt. Guilt at having left her feelings unanswered and unfulfilled, at never saying anything to her, not even to let her down. He dropped his eyes and laughed softly.

“Come on, we’ll have a good time.”

Ginny produced a smile and allowed herself to be led away. Despite their assurances of fun, she didn’t believe she had anything to look forward to.

Draco swept into his dorm room and flung himself on his bed, pulling the drapes closed on Goyle and Crabbe’s puzzled expressions. His head was pounding and he felt his chest tightening. His breath wheezed in and out of his throat painfully and his nose was stuffed up. Great, a cold. That was all he needed on top of everything else. He pressed his face into the pillow, hoping it would cool his feverish skin. What he needed was rest, something he hadn’t gotten all night. Why? Because he’d spent it staring at that red headed bint, that stupid little girl who was still hopelessly in love with that blind idiot, Potter. What the hell had gotten into him? Draco snorted in disgust and turned over, pulling the pillow over his face and squeezing his eyes shut. What he needed was sleep, forgetfulness. Maybe he’d be able to banish the image of Weasley practically snogging that scarred idiot.

“Er…Draco?” It was Crabbe. “We’re going to Hogsmeade; you said you wanted to come.”

Why didn’t the other idiots ever learn to recognize his need for solitude?

“Changed my mind,” Draco snapped. “I don’t feel well!”

“Oh, that’s probably just as well,” Goyle said darkly. “Jared’s saying you’ll probably be wetting yourself forever since you saw that werewolf!”

Draco bolted upright and tore the bed curtain aside. “What?”

Both Crabbe and Goyle reeled back slightly, their faces at once scared and bemused. After a moment, Goyle spoke.

“A…a werewolf. You mean it’s true, you really saw one?” They stared at him with wide eyes.

“Yes,” Draco growled. “Now why is that moron saying I’ll wet myself?”

But Crabbe was now staring at Draco’s neck with wide eyes. “It bit you?”

“Yes!” Malfoy shouted, throwing his pillow on the floor, then suddenly recovering, “I mean, no! It didn’t break the skin, I’m not a werewolf.”

But both of them had backed away from him, fear plastered all over their stupid, puffy faces. Draco longed to find a Bludger.

“When a werewolf bites you, it has to make you bleed or the Curse doesn’t take effect,” Draco explained with forced calm. They said nothing, just continued to look at him stupidly. Not for the first time, Draco secretly wished he could transplant the intelligence of Granger or Ron Weasley into the nimrods! He slowly raised his head, till they had a clear view of his neck, and he spoke even more slowly.

“See? The skin is red from where its teeth b-…er, hit me. But the skin didn’t open, I didn’t bleed. So I am not a werewolf.”

Crabbe and Goyle bent forward stiffly; as if afraid he’d turn into a shaggy wolf at any moment. Squinting, they examined Draco’s neck while he felt his muscles stiffen and begin to cramp. His irritation meter was beginning to go off, but he didn’t want the two buffoons spreading any more rumors than were apparently already in circulation. So he held still while they stared and stared at his neck. Finally, Goyle straightened and gave a goofy smile.

“Boy, that was close!” he grinned.

Yes, it had been close. So very nice of Gregory to state the incredibly obvious! What had he done to deserve such friends?

You accepted their fawning, as your father has done with theirs, said a voice in his mind. Draco blinked, wondering why he’d actually answered his own rhetoric. They served him and defended him. That was simply the way of it. He shook himself from these musings as Crabbe reiterated his invitation to Hogsmeade. Draco stared at them, and then spoke.

“What was Jared prattling on about?”

Goyle blinked stupidly, and then suddenly remembered. “Oh! He was saying it was something you made up, till Snape said it was true. Now he’s telling everyone that you’re probably going to leave the school and hide out for the rest of your life.”

Crabbe sniggered. “He said, ‘Malfoy’s cryin’ and I’m not lyin’.”

They both guffawed until, turning to Draco, they saw he wasn’t laughing. Their expressions fell immediately. Draco’s eyes flashed and he ground out his next words menacingly.

“That…idiot…called me names! And you…laughed!”

“Er…” Crabbe eloquently defended himself. “Um…” Goyle added.

Draco began to pace the floor, his blood pumping hard and his mind seething with fury. Jared was talking shit! That meant that his image had suffered because of the werewolf incident. It wasn’t bad enough that he had gone through a hell of terror beneath that monster, oh no! Every power hungry weasel was now salivating at the thought of bringing him down and taking his place. Admittedly, power at school wasn’t much, but the position it afforded was. The aura of favor you held would open doors later in life. Especially for ambitious seventh years who thirsted for power.

Damn! All the power in the school and he couldn’t manage to get a decent few hours of sleep. Not that it mattered now. Draco was too angry to be tired. He would put in an appearance at Hogsmeade and blast all of those rumors to bits, and maybe Jared Stone’s head as well.

“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” he snapped. “Wait for me in the common room.”

Crabbe and Goyle obediently scuttled out as Draco yanked his trunk open and began tearing through it for something sufficient to wear.

Hermione smiled gently at Ginny as they walked towards Honeydukes. Ron was laughing in happy anticipation, while Harry and Cho smiled and shook their heads at his excitement. A trip to Honeydukes was always on Ron’s wish list, and he never failed to spend too much money there.

“How are you?” Hermione asked Ginny quietly, squeezing her hand. Ginny smiled bravely and nodded.

“I’m fine, really. This has been fun!”

Susan, who was on Ginny’s other side and holding hands with Seamus, muttered softly, “Are you sure?”

Damn it, Susan! Ginny thought irritably. She didn’t need her best friend analyzing her constantly. Susan seemed to get the message, as she smiled apologetically and squeezed her other hand. Ginny smiled back, and then turned to Hermione. “It’s all right, I’m perfectly fine.”

There was a small line between Hermione’s brows, but she accepted Ginny’s answer. The trouble was that, although Ginny had laughed and smiled with them the whole day, Hermione could see the strain around her eyes. Harry and Cho had been almost nauseatingly affectionate by holding hands, kissing sweetly here and there, and talking nose to nose half the time. And Ginny had endured it all with either an averted gaze or a plastic smile. Harry had never acted so idiotic as far as Hermione could remember. Seeing it all the time was definitely going to cause cavities. Her parents would not be pleased!

They had browsed Gladrags, walked through Dervish and Banges, where Ron had looked for a new set of scales. From there it had been a parade of small shops and window shopping. Hermione bought a used book from a small bookshop entitled Family and Career, How the Modern Witch Can Have It All. Ron had snorted, saying that since Hermione would most likely be an Auror she wouldn’t have time to get married. She bashed him in the arm with the book. Now it was time for sweets, but Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get away, to find a Harry/Cho free place to calm the turbulence in her mind. She stopped in front of the entrance to Honeydukes and announced that she would join them in a moment.

“What?” Harry asked, surprised. Everyone turned around to look enquiringly at her, so she hastily pointed to a beauty parlor two buildings down.

“I’m thinking of doing something with my hair,” she said quickly. “I thought I’d just see what was available.”

“Oh, I’ll come with you!” Hermione said brightly. “I don’t feel like candy right now. Why don’t we all meet up at the Three Broomsticks in an hour?”

“That’s an excellent idea! I need a bit of shampoo myself,” Susan declared, waking over to them. Seamus smiled and decided to stay with the group.

Ron shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t do anything drastic, like cut your hair short or something.”

“Ron!” Hermione sniffed as she and Ginny began to walk away, “As if I would!”

“Have fun!” Harry called after them.

“Thanks!” Ginny murmured as they approached the shop, Your New Beauty.

“It’s all right,” Hermione smiled at her knowingly. “I had to get away from all that sappy romance too. I was beginning to get queasy!”

“Get used to it,” Susan said wryly. “Being in such close proximity is going to have its drawbacks!”

Ginny giggled in spite of her pain. “I thought it was just me!”

Susan grinned. “Of course not, I could feel myself getting wired on a sugar overload!”

Hermione laughed as they walked into the shop. The strong smell of various hair care potions struck them immediately and Ginny felt a bit nauseous. Looking around, she began to idly wander down an isle. Hermione walked next to her, picking up a bottle of Sleek EZ’s potion, while Susan darted over to the shampoos.

“Right, now I need some curling stuff!” Hermione eyed the next shelf, then walked down a bit further and grabbed a violet bottle with a pink label. “Are you going to get anything?”

Ginny smiled and shook her head. “I still have my straightening potion and it works all right.”

Hermione looked at Ginny with penetrating eyes. “Not over him, are you?” she asked softly.

Ginny blushed, pained at being such an open book. “Not as much as I’d like to be. But that will come in time.”

Yes, Hermione thought, unless you decide to take a more active stance. She thought of Ron and her own troubles with him.

“That’s the right attitude. You’re a lot stronger than you know. Besides, I don’t think this affair will last long.”

To her surprise, Ginny nodded sadly. “Cho is a very nice girl. She’s smart, pretty, and not caught up in his fame. It’ll be Harry who ruins or ends it.”

“What makes you say that?”

Ginny raised her enormous eyes to Hermione and answered with the simplest, most poignant honesty. “Harry is the sweetest, most self sacrificing person I know. But he doesn’t know how to reveal himself. That’ll get in the way. And he’ll eventually realize that his hormones can’t choose his life partner.”

Hermione stared, wondering at Ginny’s insight. But before she could ask her to elaborate, Ginny suddenly smiled and took the purple bottle.

“This is curling stuff? Does it work?”

“Oh yes! It’s really wonderful. Most stuff I buy leaves my hair feeling sticky, but this one -- it’s called Madam Fiona’s Curling Serum -- doesn’t. It’s a handy de-tangler too!”

Ginny laughed spontaneously and handed the bottle back. “You sound like an advertisement!”

“That’s not surprising, since she memorizes everything she reads!” Susan joined them, chortling. Hermione assumed an expression of mock hurt.

“That’s not true; I haven’t been able to memorize all of Most Potente Potions.”

“That’s because they won’t let you take it out of the library anymore!” Ginny giggled.

The girls stood laughing as a pretty shop witch walked up to them with a smile. “Is there anything I can help you find, ladies? A product you might be interested in?”

“Oh, I’m all right,” Ginny said. Susan concurred, but Hermione suddenly smiled mischievously.

“Actually, I understand you give product demonstrations. Would it be possible to get one now?”

The shop witch was eager to comply. And Ginny found, to her horror, that she was the guinea pig when Hermione looked at her meaningfully, holding up the purple bottle of curling serum.

“I’m Louise,” the beauty witch introduced herself, herding the girls over to a small chair and table laden with various potions and make-up products. “What would you like to see?”

Susan, who’d cottoned on, grabbed Ginny’s arm and said, “Our friend here would like to see how well Madam Fiona’s curling serum works. Nice, spiral curls, I think!”

Ginny blanched, but before she could say or do anything, Hermione had grabbed her other arm and added: “I think that would be lovely, especially gathered behind her head, perhaps. It would give a kind of waterfall effect!”

Louise smiled, delighted with this idea. “Oh miss, allow me to say that your hair would be lovely in curls!”

Ginny was seated in the chair and her head tipped back into the sink before she could protest. Susan grinned and whispered, “You need to do something for yourself! Come on, let’s have some fun!”

Louise chattered about all the possibilities of hair potions, as her ministering hands began to relax Ginny, who realized Susan was right. The day hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought, but why walk around being depressed? A little beauty parlor visit wasn’t going to do her any harm. It was time to loosen up and have some fun! Especially after the week she’d had. She began to chatter with Louise, asking for tips and such. Susan requested a facial when Louise was done with Ginny, and Hermione, getting into the spirit, requested a make-up demonstration. They truly began to have fun...

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 5 2003-05-13T09:08:00Z 2003-05-13T09:08:00Z 1 6642 37863 315 88 44417 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 6

Draco walked along the cobbled street, Pansy Parkinson on his arm. Her chatter was a grating buzz in his ears, and her continual remarks about everyone and everything was enough to make him want to toss her into the next puddle of mud.

Still, he needed her at the moment. He’d run into her and Millicent Bulstrode as they were all leaving the common room. He had a nasty feeling she’d been waiting for him, so he could accompany them. Pansy was clever when she needed to be, especially when it came to her goal of snagging Draco Malfoy as her husband. But it had helped to be seen with her. Several Slytherins had commenced to murmuring when he’d appeared in the common room. A few had even laughed openly. But this had quieted as he looked about coldly, giving off his air of icy composure and hidden, steely resolve. He was wearing his Slytherin scarf, so the bite marks were not visible. That hadn’t stopped questions from coming at him from several students they’d passed. And the questions had continued from housemates he’d run into. He’d answered coldly that yes, he’d been attacked, but no, he hadn’t been bitten. Crabbe and Goyle had simply nodded in agreement. And this had worked out fine: everyone knew they wouldn’t lie about it, but asking them to explain would be like asking a two year old to point out the constellations.

Being seen about with Pansy Parkinson was normal. It was expected. So he endured it, and felt relief when his housemates walked up to him to talk more and more frequently. He even got greetings from students in other houses, which he’d acknowledge with a nod of his silver-blond head. That was unusual, of them and of him. But he was too tired to be Malfoy the Bastard today. It was all he could do to maintain Malfoy the Magnificent.

“Oh Draco, let’s go to Gladrags! I need a new dress! And I could show you that wonderful black shirt, with the silver buttons I was telling you about!” Pansy squealed, once again knocking his thoughts off track.

“Don’t you have enough dresses?” he asked coldly. But Pansy didn’t notice, and began to tug him towards the shop. He was SO not in the mood to try anything on! He allowed himself to be dragged there anyway, as an argument with her would only ruin the day’s work and drain what little strength he had left.

The inside of the shop was crowded with other students, mostly girls from the various houses, though there were witches on holiday as well. A trip to Gladrags was always at the top of their to-do lists. Draco pulled away from Pansy as she and Millicent, who didn’t look any happier about being there than he was, began to flit around the shop.

Draco went to a small corner containing racks of leather cloaks and full length coats. One was a very nice full length trench coat, with a double breasted, four button front, nice deep pockets for hiding stuff, and a zip out fur lining. It looked rather macho, and Draco grinned. He suddenly remembered a picture he’d seen of a man on a motorcycle in a Muggle magazine. He’d actually been admiring it until his mother had snatched the magazine out of his hands and had had one of the butlers throw it away. She’d lectured him for an hour about “that unseemly Muggle garbage”, and her eyes had been darting around fearfully. Draco had later understood that his father might have found out and there would have been hell to pay. After all, there was always hell to pay when Draco did something wrong.

His eyes were strangely unfocused as he thought of this, several memories suddenly rising up at once. Draco had failed to fly his broomstick the way his father had shown him to the first time, and he’d been slapped across the face. Then there was the summer holiday after his second year at Hogwarts, when he’d failed to help Slytherin defeat Gryffindor. Draco had endured a whole summer of acidic remarks, and comparisons to Mudbloods and, worse, Muggles.

“Perhaps you should consider that Hermione Granger as a future wife. You’ve sunk beneath even her level, but you could raise her fortunes nicely, so I’m sure she could be prevailed upon to have you…We’re having some new business associates over for dinner, try not to call to much attention to our blood ties. I want to make a favorable impression…”

Lucius always had a snide insult, always comparing him to another student or an associate’s child. Never a kind word, unless it was to bribe him into doing something. But Draco had learned to get what he wanted with loud tantrums and stubborn demands. It increased his father’s willingness to shut him up by any means necessary. Once again, Draco felt his face tighten and his stomach clench. At least his father would look at him then…

What I felt, what I’ve known

Never shined through in what I’ve shown

Never be, never see

Won’t see what might have been

What I felt, all I’ve known

Never shined through in what I’ve shown

Never see, never me

So I dub thee Unforgiven….

Draco listened, wondering if the music was in his mind, or outside of him. He closed his eyes, seeing Lucius Malfoy before him in a rare moment of happiness. That is, until he remembered why…

“Well boy, you made it! I’ve got your letter for Hogwarts right here. The way you’ve been ruining your spells recently, I’d begun to wonder if I’d produced a defective heir…”

“May I help you sir?” A young sales wizard suddenly appeared at his elbow, smiling brightly.

Draco didn’t look at him, didn’t change expression, and didn’t even blink. “I’ll take this. Have it delivered to Hogwarts School, to Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House.”

The sales wizard was only too happy to help. Once they ascertained that it fit him, the transaction was quickly concluded, to the tune of two hundred and fifty galleons. Not very expensive, Draco thought absently. He turned to see Pansy sidling up to him.

“Draco! Did you buy me something?” She smiled eagerly.

“No,” he replied blandly. Her expression fell slightly, but she recovered almost immediately.

“I just bought a new dress, perhaps I can show it to you?”

Draco looked at her, his patience with her at an end. “I’m thirsty. Let’s get a drink.”

He didn’t stop to see Pansy’s expression, or to note if anyone else agreed. He simply walked out. Bastard mode was hitting, which meant everything was normal. The tapping of several feet hurrying to catch up with him confirmed this, and he smirked in a very satisfied way.

“I’m serious Ginny, you’re beautiful!” Susan gushed as they walked in the cold autumn air towards the Three Broomsticks. “I think everyone’s going to faint!”

“All right Susan, I believe you!” Ginny laughed. Her hair had been done into lovely spiral curls and, as Hermione suggested, pulled up in a knot to spill down her back. They fluttered delicately, glossy and sleek. They had all had a make-over, and Ginny in particular was really feeling confident and pretty. She looked admiringly at Hermione who looked lovely, her eyes darkened slightly and her lips touched with a warm rose color. Susan positively glowed: the shades of blue upon her lids made her eyes seem very large and bright, and the subtle pink shades that dusted her cheeks and lips gave them a pleasing shape. They all were looking forward to showing off their new looks, however temporary they might be, and walked quickly to Madam Rosmerta’s place.

Walking inside, they received a lot of stares from other students. Parvati Patil and her sister were sitting nearest the door, with two Ravenclaw boys. All four jaws dropped. Hermione was irritated, and reminded of the unflattering stares the other girls had given her at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

“Be careful,” she said acidly, “insects might fly right into your mouths!”

Susan sniggered and they walked on in, spotting Ron and Harry waving at them. As they approached the table, the boys’ jaws dropped as well. Ron, in particular, seemed stunned, and he stared exclusively at Hermione. Seamus hugged and kissed Susan, telling her she looked beautiful. Ginny smiled at that, and then turned to Harry. He was smiling at her in a dazed sort of way.

“Wow!” he said, “You look wonderful!”

Cho, who was sitting next to him, smiled warmly too. “I always knew you’d look great in curls! Susan’s always said so.”

“Thank you.” Ginny blushed, feeling more magnanimous towards Cho. She was still feeling that empty ache, but she was determined not to let it ruin what was left of the day.

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed, “Why are you wearing make up?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, let’s see. Because she’s sixteen and it’s allowed?”

Ron frowned. “You didn’t wear make up at sixteen,” he pointed out.

“No, I was fifteen. When Viktor Krum asked me to the Ball, remember?” Hermione replied. Ron shut up.

“Well,” Harry said lightly, changing the subject, “you had fun then? Did you see anyone?”

Hermione replied that they hadn’t, and Susan asked if they had seen Rita Dorn, the Ravenclaw Prefect, as she knew she would love to see the array of supplies at the beauty store. Talk then turned to more general subjects, as a waitress came and took their orders. Butterbeer and a cup of soup for Ron, who was feeling a bit hungry. She listened to the chatter as she waited for her drink. Ron, of course, had also made a stop at Fred and George’s joke shop, Wacky Clandestine, which was doing extremely well. He’d loaded up on Dungbombs, which were still his favorite gag, and also bought Exploding Snaps. When her drink arrived, Ginny sipped it thoughtfully. Harry was joining in the general conversation but he seemed to look at her far more than usual. Instead of feeling happy, she felt confusion squeezing in the pit of her stomach. It was only a few looks, after all. His hand was still tightly laced through Cho’s and he seemed more surprised than anything. She knew that continuing to pine was ridiculous, but she saw him every day. And while she felt that her feelings were finally lessening, her attention was still caught by him very easily. What did it all mean? She wondered if she would ever be free of these emotions that continued to come out of nowhere and disturb her piece of mind.

An image of Draco flashed unbidden into her mind, making her freeze. She could see him clearly, hear his voice low and cool in her ears. She remembered him at his worst, his cold, gray eyes almost empty of life, his thin mouth curled in a sneer. Then she recalled his appearance the night before, his hair falling into his face as he looked at her with deep fascination, pale cheeks flushed, and his expression soft and almost warm. Then there was the terror that had invaded his being, visible on his face as they were propelled to the infirmary by Snape. So many different emotions had come over him, emotions she had never seen in him and had not imagined he could feel. The scene in the library came flooding back, when they had stared each other down. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered how he’d seemed to reach out to her, almost as if he wanted to push past the barrier between them and….

And what? This was ridiculous. She shook herself and tried to attend to the conversation, just in time to hear Seamus growl:

“Speak of the devil!”

Ginny blinked, turning towards the door. Draco Malfoy was walking in, Pansy Parkinson on his arm. They were closely followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode.

“Well, here’s a group that ought to be penciled in for a visit from the Angel of Death!” Ron quipped, causing Seamus and Harry to snigger. Hermione dismissed them, and was turning back to the table when Ginny caught her attention. She was sitting straight in her chair, looking over at Draco with a very angry expression. Puzzled, Hermione looked again. Draco was settling at a large table, looking bored and a tad restless. Everyone sat down, and Pansy immediately began to hang on Draco with her eager smiles and, doubtless, annoying chatter. A look back at Ginny startled Hermione. Her expression had gone from angry to enraged.

She touched Ginny’s hand, startling her. Hermione silently inclined her head towards Malfoy’s group, her eyes enquiring. Ginny smiled with nervous embarrassment and took a hasty drink of her Butterbeer. Then she leaned towards Hermione to whisper, and noticed Susan leaning with her. She looked at her friend, realizing that she had noticed her odd behavior too. Oh, for the love of Merlin!

“Sorry,” she whispered to them both, “I just hate…that Pansy. She uses him, you know.” It was the only excuse she could think of.

“He uses her back, so what?” Susan whispered. “You said yourself he was a bastard to you, after you saved his life and all!”

“Susan, you know perfectly well that saving someone’s life makes you feel a tad obligated to them,” Hermione whispered soothingly. She smiled encouragingly at Ginny. “Ginny has a right to express her opinion, and I’m sure the obligation aspect is temporary.”

Ginny smiled back, feeling stupid and oddly guilty. Why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t lied exactly, she did hate Pansy Parkinson! Hated the way she dressed, hated the way she talked, hated the way she was hanging all over Draco. She was an obvious, gold digging, status hungry slut! Ginny could not believe Draco was unable to see right through her!

What in the world was she thinking! I don’t care, it’s his life! She shook herself and tried to steady her suddenly trembling hands. Draco Malfoy was a cold hearted, evil bastard. He deserved Pansy, as she deserved him. Ginny resolutely took a healthy swig from her bottle and ordered another, hoping that if Pansy married him he would suddenly discover that she was really a man in drag!

Draco was looking idly about the Pub, letting Pansy and Millicent fill the silence with their chatter and allowing Pansy to put her arms around him. It was necessary, for now. He just wanted to make sure they were seen everywhere, in case anyone still had any doubts. Nothing soothes doubt better than seeing exactly what you expect to see. He hadn’t allowed this privilege to Pansy for awhile, as it usually put her voice right in his ear and that annoyed him to no end. But this trip would soon be over. One drink and they were going back to Hogwarts. He’d made his point, he was perfectly fine. He couldn’t wait to leave and get back to his bed.

As his eyes roamed the Pub, he spotted Potter and his group. They all seemed really happy with each other, talking and laughing. He never had much of a chance to do that, certainly not with his brilliant friends Crabbe and Goyle. Then he saw Ginny, did a double take, and stared. Her hair… she’d done something with her hair. Now it streamed in loose ringlets down her back, catching the light of the fire and giving off its own glow. She turned to Hermione, and he saw her face was made up very nicely too. Her eyes, already big and lovely, seemed more beautiful than ever, the light blush on her cheeks adding a glow to her complexion which was enhanced by the soft shade of her lips. So red, a lovely cool red, like holly berries. Soft and pouty, tasting of honey and Butterbeer…

Draco felt his heart beat faster, and found himself wanting to walk over and kiss her. Kiss those soft, berry lips and taste the warmth of her mouth. He felt himself grow warm, his skin burned and his stomach began to flutter. What’s happening to me? He wondered distractedly. What am I feeling?

“Good afternoon, Draco!” A soft, cold voice suddenly sliced through his heady desires. Draco started, looking up to find Stone sneering down at him.

Draco felt anger coursing through him, but his expression cleared in an instant as he leaned lazily back in his chair to regard Stone. Pansy removed herself from Draco, suddenly looking tense. Crabbe and Goyle started to stand, but with a gesture Draco stopped them, and they resumed their seats.

“Hello Jared,” he drawled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Though Stone was smiling, Draco could tell he wasn’t pleased. The rumors he’d started had fizzled out and now here Malfoy was, looking in excellent health and frightened of nothing. He was angry and wanted to get back at Malfoy somehow. Draco kept his eyes trained on Jared, but didn’t discount the little band of thugs behind him: three fifth years whose names Draco tended to forget. Crabbe and Goyle could flatten them -- they had before -- but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was. They were big and burly themselves, just not as big as Draco’s friends.

“I guess the Potion Master lied then? You weren’t bitten by a werewolf?” Stone began nastily. Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“I truly doubt those were the Potion Master’s words.” He waved his hand airily. “I was attacked, not bitten. Perhaps your skull is too thick to tell the difference between the two.”

Stone’s face went white with fury.

“Tell me,” he hissed, “who had to save you? A werewolf is a formidable enemy, and we all know you don’t have the skill to take one on!”

Draco relaxed. He was used to jealousy, even from the children of other Death Eaters. Stone was no different than anyone else.

“Stone, I don’t have time for your pettiness,” he said, remembering Ginny’s words to him. “You aren’t worth a dog’s attention, much less my own. Please do the rest of us a favor and dig in someone else’s closet for bones!”

Crabbe and Goyle snickered, while Pansy let out a high pitched titter. Jared’s hand began to twitch.

“Careful Stone,” Draco said mildly, “there are teachers here today, and not a few Aurors. Attacking me would look very bad for you…and your family.”

Draco’s eyes locked with Stone’s, and once again Stone backed down. But he wasn’t finished.

“I hear they have the creature locked in a shed and that Dumbledore’s going to attempt to question it.” Stone’s eyes glittered with malice. “It will be interesting to discover why it didn’t kill you, Malfoy!”

And with that he swept off, leaving Draco to stare after his retreating back and wonder if the whole world was going to shit.

Harry watched curiously as Jared Stone walked out of the pub, Malfoy sneering at his retreating figure. He wondered what had passed between them and if it had anything to do with the attack on the school. He knew they’d been talking about the werewolf, because Stone’s parting shot had been audible even from their table. What exactly did Stone, or Malfoy, know?

The ideal person to ask was Ginny, but she was wearing an almost dangerous expression on her face at the moment. Two years of living with the Weasleys had taught Harry that Ginny was a lot like her mother. Sweet, kind, gentle, loving, but with a temper that would frighten trolls! He’d been on the receiving end of her wrath a few times, crush or no. It wasn’t pleasant, and he tried to avoid it at all cost. He’d ask her later, once she got over whatever was bothering her.

He thought about the moment he’d seen Ginny come in The Three Broomsticks earlier that afternoon, allowing his surprise at her beauty to wash over him again. He supposed he shouldn’t be so astonished, seeing that she was sixteen now and growing into a woman. Still, she’d been like a sister to him for years. Her crush had sometimes discomfited him, and he knew he should have spoken to her about it before. But what in the world could he have said that wouldn’t have sounded mean and insulting?

I’m sorry Ginny, but I’m in love already…Oh yes, that would have gone over nicely! Ginny, you’re a wonderful person, but I just don’t love you.

No matter how he phrased it, he sounded insensitive and condescending. She didn’t need that. What else could he have done?

He sneaked a glance at her again. She and Susan had their heads together, and Susan was whispering something funny judging from the smile Ginny was trying to hold back. He was sorry that he’d ever pained her, but really, was he responsible? He thought of the words he’d overheard Ginny and Susan saying only a few days before. He’d gone to check the entrance to the Whomping Willow and set some supplies on the inside of it. On his way back, he’d seen Ginny and Susan sitting near the lake, right in the direction he’d been heading. He hadn’t wanted to be seen, lest they should ask him what he was up to. So he’d decided to sneak past them, and had unfortunately heard everything they’d said about him and Cho and Ginny’s feelings. He’d felt horrible, more so because he’d been eavesdropping on a private conversation and had heard things he really hadn’t wanted to. As soon as he could, he’d peeled off from behind the tree and headed for the castle to think. No matter how hard he’d thought it over, however, he hadn’t seen what else he could have done.

Maybe what was really bothering him was the fact that he was the bad guy in this little love scenario and he just couldn’t stand the idea. He felt a flash of irritation at the thought, but couldn’t deny its merit. He hadn’t asked to be her dream boy, but neither had he done anything to squelch her ideas about him. He looked over at Ron, wondering if he’d ever noticed or thought ill of him because of it. If he had, he’d never said anything about it, seeming to prefer to let the situation handle itself. For this, Harry was profoundly grateful.

He checked his watch. Four o’clock. Looking out one of the windows, he noticed thick, heavy clouds moving in. Snow perhaps? It was time to get back to the castle. He looked around the table and said as much, clasping Cho’s hand as he stood. He caught Ron’s eye as everyone shuffled around for their scarves and cloaks, and nodded slightly. Ron understood immediately and silently communicated the same message to Hermione, who caught his eye and inclined her head in Malfoy’s direction. Ron responded with a shrug. There would be time enough to discuss this once they returned to Hogwarts. As soon as they returned to the castle, they would have to set about getting to the shed. Lupin would be there; indeed, he was probably already there. They’d see him soon, and hopefully find out why everything had gone so horribly wrong with their plan.

“Hey Harry, we’ll see you at dinner. I want to take Susan to Mr. Bandine’s,” Seamus told him as he helped Susan into her cloak. Harry nodded and smiled, knowing that Susan was probably about to get the surprise of her life. Bandine’s was the finest maker of enchanted necklaces, rings, and various other jewelry in Hogsmeade. Ginny gasped and hugged Susan, who was beaming, as soon as Seamus let her go. Hmmm, maybe Susan wouldn’t be surprised after all!

Once outside, Seamus and Susan headed off to the jeweler’s and the rest of the party trooped back to Hogwarts. Ron fell back to walk next to Hermione, and she smiled almost shyly at him. Harry fervently hoped that Hermione’s new appearance would be Ron’s impetus to finally resolve his unspoken feelings for her. He didn’t think he could take much more of his friend’s angry, yet clueless, jealousy whenever another guy at school paid Hermione any attention. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Cho smiling at him.

“Where are you?” she laughed softly. “You seem miles away!”

He laughed too and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry, just thinking about stuff. I haven’t studied for that test on Monday; I’m going to have to get cracking once we get back.”

Cho nodded, saying nothing. He felt bad about the lie but he, Ron, and Hermione had to get to the shed and see that werewolf. They had agreed that the Wolfsbane would be in full effect by that evening, so entering would be relatively safe. Harry still couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The three of them had made it down to the Whomping Willow to meet Lupin and a friend of his, also a werewolf. They had waited for an hour in the chilly air, and Harry vividly recalled his unease as the time for the meeting had passed, and neither Lupin nor anyone else had arrived. Then they’d heard that chilling howl from the forest, followed moments later by Lupin in wolf--tamer than he would usually have been because of the Wolfsbane Potion--form clambering over to them. He’d been alone, and had whined and whuffed desperately. Harry had taken this to mean that his friend’s absence was a bad thing, and they set about trying to track him down.

They had only searched for a short time, however, when that terrifying howl had come floating down the wind from the castle itself. Flinging aside caution , the four of them had dashed back to find Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore guiding a floating stretcher to a sturdy shed outside of Hagrid’s house. Dumbledore had sent Lupin directly to his office, telling him that McGonagall would be waiting there to let him in. Then they had heard the news about Ginny and Draco. Harry had almost been sick, and was hardly calmed by finding out that Ginny was “just fine”. Draco’s condition, however, had been a different story. Harry had been rather disappointed to learn that Ginny had actually saved him from the wolf. If it had been me, he thought, I’d have let the stupid git take his chances while I went for help. The thought almost made him chortle, even as he recognized its untruth. He might think of, and wish for, all sorts of horrible fates to await Malfoy, but in Ginny’s place he would have done exactly the same. He thought of Cedric, and of the echo he had heard of his parents whenever he had been near a Dementor. He was too well acquainted with death to truly wish it on anyone. Though, if ever there was a person who deserved such a fate, it was Malfoy. It still made Harry’s hackles rise when he remembered how callously he’d spoken of Cedric’s death, and how gleeful he’d been about the Dark Lord’s return.

Instead of wishing death on Malfoy, Harry thought, perhaps he should wish on him a chronic case of genital itching. Or, better yet, life with the not so lovely Pansy Parkinson. He was half way to that one already, and Harry almost felt sorry for the moron. Almost.

“Draco, you really need a haircut,” Pansy was saying, fingering the growth of silver blond hair that was touching his collar as they entered the Slytherin common room.

That did it!

“Pansy, you really need to swallow super glue!”

Ha! That had felt extremely good! Draco swept away from Pansy and almost ran up the stairs to his dorm, leaving her standing open-mouthed and stiff with anger. An almost perfect end to an almost disastrous day! The only thing he needed now was sleep, glorious sleep. Every muscle in his body ached and his eyes felt like burning coals. He looked forward to sliding into bed with an appreciation he’d only ever felt after Quidditch practice. As he reached the top of the stairs, he approached a group of girls in deep conversation. One of them was Frieda Lawson, the Superior Slytherfemme. He smirked slightly at her back, wondering what diabolical conspiracies she was imagining now. Get a life, Lawson! He thought wryly.

As he moved closer, he began to hear snatches of their conversation.

“…the Headmaster is going to question it, and soon! He’ll probably try tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest,” Frieda was saying.

“Why does this concern you, Frieda?” Judy, another seventh year femme, asked.

“Because, idiot, it might know everything! It might even have been behind the attack!” Frieda snapped. “Who knows what it might reveal! And before you tell me that my theory is ridiculous, allow me to remind you of a potion called Wolfsbane.”

Draco had stopped walking. He was just close enough to hear the conversation but not be seen, as the girls stood with their backs to him.

“Frieda, this is all very interesting, but what’s it got to do with anything?” Judy asked irritably, obviously offended at being called an idiot. Frieda turned her head towards Judy and laughed softly.

“Don’t you see? The creature somehow gets inside the castle and makes straight for the son of Voldemort’s biggest supporter. And it happens on the heels of a mysterious explosion that could be construed as an attack on Harry Potter! Doesn’t that strike you as odd, an attack on Potter and Malfoy in the same day?”

“Wait, why would anyone think the explosion was aimed at Potter?” another girl asked. “He was outside, no where near the library or the Transfiguration classroom, or the corridor! And the explosion happened in a storage room!”

Frieda looked up. “No, he wasn’t there when the explosion went off. But he’d been in McGonagall’s classroom only ten minutes before, and the explosion was right next door!”

The girl who had asked the question nodded her head, but Judy frowned. “All of this is a bit of a stretch, Frieda. I’m not convinced you’re right. Draco wasn’t hurt, after all.”

Frieda sighed with exasperation and began moving down the hallway towards the door that led to the girls’ dorms. “That’s because you lack imagination, my dear. Someone else is trying to elbow their way in, I’m sure of it! I don’t know why Malfoy wasn’t hurt, but if I were him, or Potter, I’d watch my back!”

Judy made a face at Frieda’s turned head as the group disappeared through the door, leaving Draco to ponder what he’d just heard. Someone else was trying to elbow their way in? That made no sense! Frieda had always been rather melodramatic, but her statement gave Draco pause. He walked slowly to his dorm, recalling the explosion and the attack by the werewolf. On the issue of the explosion, Frieda was right. The room right next to McGonagall’s had been the one attacked. Draco pondered what this might mean as he reached his room and began to undress, picking up his discarded nightclothes from the floor as he did so. All right, he thought, the explosion came close on Potter’s heels, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was meant for him. The attack had been poorly timed, if Potter had been the target, and why set off the explosion in an empty room? Draco was no expert on explosives, but it hadn’t seemed to be a very big one. In fact, he had spoken briefly to a Slytherin who’d been in McGonagall’s class when it had gone off. Other than feeling the concussion and hearing a boom – not to mention being scared out of her wits -- no real harm had been done. It hadn’t even penetrated the wall. Not an effective attack at all, so that must not have been its purpose. What had been the purpose, then? To frighten? Yes, it had definitely frightened everyone, and caused the cancellation of classes and the Halloween party that night. But visits to Hogsmeade had still been permitted, which meant that Dumbledore was no longer worried for the students’ safety. Why? Just because he’d captured a werewolf didn’t mean he had a suspect, did it? The two events might not even be related.

Draco stared out his window, watching as the darkening sky began to release clouds of snowflakes. Perhaps they’d concluded that it had been an accident. This seemed more plausible than Dumbledore suspecting a werewolf of planting an explosive. But the headmaster was a sly one, and it was wise not to underestimate him. The fact that they’d been allowed out of the school might have hidden other motives, such as an extended investigation or the implementation of safeguards to make sure another attack wouldn’t hurt anyone. The first and second years had been restricted to their common rooms, after all, so they would have been relatively safe from harm. But if the attack had been meant as a weapon of fear, then had the actions of the headmaster been meant to thwart that fear? And what of the werewolf? How had it gotten into the castle? Frieda might have a point in thinking someone had deliberately let it in. It wouldn’t be the first time: Draco clearly remembered the troll that Professor Quirrell had let into the school during his first year at Hogwarts. But if that was the case, why send it after him? Or had it been allowed in to make random attacks and Draco had simply crossed its path by coincidence?

He remembered seeing the creature enter the tower. It had been sniffing the ground intently, walking right to the spot where he had been sitting before hearing the creature’s approach. That didn’t necessarily mean it had been looking for him, but it didn’t erase Draco’s sudden unease either. Come to think of it, he had been near the explosion site. And if he hadn’t stopped to insult Ginny Weasley, he would have gone right by that room on his way to…

On his way to Ancient Runes, a class which was also down that wing of the castle!

Hold on, Draco told himself, get a grip! The timing would have been too perfect then, wouldn’t it? Catching him while he was walking by that particular room would require precise timing on the part of the bomb maker. And again, would he have been hurt? He would have, but not badly. The classroom was almost at the end of the corridor, with Filch’s broom closet in between it and the explosion. Again, the motive would have been to frighten. But why, and who would go to all that trouble? Potter? No, he was far too noble and self sacrificing to hurt anyone in that manner, even his most hated enemy. Weasley? That thought was too hilarious to contemplate, as the idiot was too wrapped up in Dungbombs and attempting to actually pass his classes to plot something so intricate. Granger? She was definitely clever enough, but Gryffindor honor would prevent her from being so artful. Draco knew he had plenty of enemies besides those three. But he couldn’t think of anyone, not even Stone, who would actually go so far.

He suddenly felt dizzy with exhaustion and pondering these questions. The headmaster could handle this without anyone’s help. Besides, if someone was really after him, an owl to his father would take care of the problem!

Draco threw his nightclothes into his trunk and climbed into bed wearing only his underwear. His chest was hurting again and he was tired. He hoped the blissful forgetfulness of sleep would help to erase the memory of the past two days. As he drifted off, he allowed a vision of Ginny Weasley to steal through his mind. She was beautiful in curls, just beautiful!

Dumbledore stared down at the young woman who was shivering slightly as she adjusted her borrowed robes. Remus Lupin took her hand and whispered quietly to her. She nodded her head and squeezed his hand. “I’m all right, Remus.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the headmaster said gravely, “but I’m sure you’ll understand my desire to question both of you.”

The woman raised her eyes to Dumbledore’s. They were a strange color, a cross between brown and green, like an overripe fruit going bad. Her hair was short and brown, framing a heart shaped face. There were shadows under her eyes, cuts and bruises around her mouth, and her complexion was very pale. She stared back at the Headmaster with a weary expression, but nodded her head.

“All right,” he smiled slightly. “First, what went wrong?”

“That’s my fault, Albus,” Remus said apologetically. “I didn’t pick up enough of the potion from my connection in Romania. I assumed we’d only be there for a short time, and then back here before the new term started. But the delays I mentioned --” Here he shot a dark look at Professor Snape, who was watching the proceedings from a far corner -- “prevented us from returning as soon as I’d hoped. We had precious little potion to split between us, and it wasn’t enough for us both.”

“And yet curiously,” Snape’s voice drifted coldly over to the pair, “you remained unaffected by the dementia, Lupin. I find that very interesting!”

“Perhaps I just had enough of the potion in me to keep control. It’s not like it wasn’t a close thing, you know. I was experiencing a lot of the urges that come with the transformation. And Elizabeth is still new to this. She doesn’t have a lot of control over herself yet.”

“Please!” the woman called Elizabeth protested quietly, putting a restraining hand on Lupin’s shoulder.

“Yes, I would prefer this not disintegrate into another of your schoolboy fights,” Dumbledore agreed, looking sagely at Remus, then Severus.

“I would like to address the delays that prevented you from making a timely return, Remus.” Snape’s mouth opened to protest, but the headmaster held up a hand to stop him. “But alas, that must wait. My immediate concern is for my students and faculty. Many are already on edge because of the explosion, and we know it was deliberately set. But we are no closer to explaining why, or who, the target was.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Remus answered immediately. “The information that we’ve been gathering-“

“Is inconclusive, Remus, and you know it!” Elizabeth interrupted, making all three men turn to her in surprise.

“Why would anyone want to kill Malfoy? His family is well connected in important circles, and I can say with absolute certainty that many people have every reason to keep the Malfoys safe!” Snape argued, obviously taken aback by the suggestion that his favorite student was a target.

“I was as surprised as you,” Remus said slowly. “And Elizabeth is right, we aren’t absolutely certain that Malfoy is the target. We only know that the intended victim is a student here, a well connected student from an influential family.”

“Do you know why?” Dumbledore asked.

Remus turned to Elizabeth, who nodded and spoke. “We have been gathering information for months, sir. We went straight to Romania after your last owl informed us of the Lestranges’ presence there. We found out that they were once again attempting to form a concrete alliance with the Vampire Nation.”

“They won’t succeed,” Snape drawled. “The ruling body is too concerned with maintaining its ties to the various Ministries. The majority of them hold their personal honor dearer than what Voldemort can offer them.”

“Yes, we had an informant tell us the same,” Lupin replied. “But our informant also warned us that some in the lower council are not against an alliance, and if Voldemort had control of the world, it would give them the freedom to kill when and where they pleased.”

“And if that was all that defined a vampire’s existence, I would be more concerned. Happily, it is not,” Dumbledore said. “They are wild and dangerous creatures, to be sure. But they are still part human, and not completely soulless. .”

“But to kill is still their primary instinct, professor,” Remus said quietly. “Many vampires are attracted to the idea of joining with Voldemort. Many rogues already have.”

“True, Remus. But it might also be said that to kill is a werewolf’s primary instinct, yet there are a few I trust,” Dumbledore replied, blue eyes twinkling. Remus smiled ruefully at this.

“Headmaster,” Snape cut in, “what of my student?”

Elizabeth straightened and continued. “Once we’d concluded that the danger had passed, Remus and I returned to our room and packed. We had plans to make a stop in Germany and follow up on a rumor of Voldemort’s presence there. Before we could leave, however, we were attacked by three wizards. We were able to fight them off, but we had to flee quickly because we could see more flying in on a magic carpet. We apparated to the home of our informant, and he was able to arrange Muggle transport to Germany.” She smiled here. “It was my first time on an arrow-plane.”

Snape snorted impatiently here, and Elizabeth hastily continued. “We arrived safely and set about contacting several of my informants. That’s when we started hearing a rumor that Voldemort was searching for a security breach in his own circle.”

This made Snape start. But Dumbledore calmly urged Elizabeth to continue.

Remus, instead, began to speak. “Apparently, we are doing our jobs too well since we’ve managed to foil several of the Dark Lord’s attempts at an outright take over, and are impeding many of the alliances he’s trying to forge. Sirius owled me once we reached Germany and told me that he’d heard the same rumors on his end. The difference is that the source of the leaks seemed to be known to Voldemort, or at least suspected. There was also a rumor about a young man, a pure-blood of influential family, who is said to be the spy’s weak spot. Word has it that this young man is a Hogwarts student.”

Snape scowled. “That’s hardly conclusive!”

“That is what I said,” Elizabeth replied gently. “We can’t simply make assumptions.”

“Then why did you go looking for him?” Remus asked her quietly.

“The dementia was clouding what little reason I had!” Elizabeth replied tensely. “I don’t really remember why I did it. And it’s a good thing he escaped me when he did!”

Remus took her hand again, while Snape began to pace the small room. Dumbledore remained silent, deep in thought, his expression almost unreadable.

“Severus,” he said after a moment, “please go to Professor McGonagall and inform her of what we’ve learned. I think we’ve finished for now. I’ll follow along in a moment.”

Snape opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to change his mind. With a curt nod to Dumbledore, he left.

Once he was gone, the headmaster turned to Lupin and smiled. “Now am I right, Remus, in guessing that Mr. Potter and his friends have been to see you?”

Lupin smiled ruefully and nodded. Elizabeth also smiled and said, “He’s a remarkably strong boy, and very determined. I understand now why he’s eluded Voldemort’s grasp!”

“He’s worried, of course,” Remus added. “He thinks he might be a danger to his fellow students again and he’s desperate to stay on top of things.”

“I hope you convinced him that he’s better off here than chasing after demons?” Dumbledore asked with a chuckle.

“Yes. I didn’t tell him everything, of course, but I managed to convince him that things are too disjointed at the moment to be sure about anything.”

“And I apologized to Mr. Weasley,” Elizabeth said quietly, “for putting his young sister in danger.”

“I’m certain he accepted it,” Dumbledore said. “I have never known Mr. Weasley to hold a grudge for very long against anyone who has apologized.”

The headmaster straightened. “And now I will leave you. I must go and look for some information before I speak to you again.”

“Albus,” Remus said suddenly, “I’m sure it’s Draco Malfoy they’re after! Who else could be considered a spy’s weak spot? They must know Severus is feeding you information, and they’ve decided to strike against him.”

“Remus, it isn’t that simple. Severus is not in direct contact with any of the Death Eaters any longer because Lord Voldemort suspected him from the beginning. He has a very good network of spies and informants, however, so I agree that I cannot discount your theory. But I would like to look at all sides of the problem first.”

“Do you know of anyone else who could be considered a traitor in need of punishment?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“There are many who have been feeding information to various sources behind the Dark Lord’s back. Not all are pleased with the way things are going!” Dumbledore said simply, walking out the door.

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 1 2003-05-13T09:10:00Z 2003-05-13T09:10:00Z 1 5257 29970 249 70 35157 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 7

Draco sat on a low stool in the dungeon, pouring preservative into a large jar of dragon’s liver. He’d felt restless this evening, and had come down to help Professor Snape with some menial tasks. He was glad to keep busy, as moments of idleness gave him time to think. He found he didn’t much like what he thought about these days.

“Finished there, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked, corking a small vial of blue liquid called Mesmrixa. It was actually a powerful hypnotic potion, giving the user complete control of his victim. The victim would do whatever was asked of them, even end their own lives, yet they would not appear dull or abnormal to others. It was one of Snape’s more unpleasant mixtures. Draco nodded in response to the query, capping the jar and heaving it over to the storeroom. There he and the professor began the task of cataloguing what had just been replenished and what would need to be replenished soon. Draco wrote carefully, taking the left side of the storeroom while Snape inventoried the right. There was much to do there, as always, and it never failed to impress Draco how Snape knew it all so perfectly. His potions were of the highest quality and fetched a fair amount of Galleons from the apothecaries he sold to. He could have made much more if he had taken his products to the open market, but he didn’t. He chose to remain a Hogwarts teacher and Draco had never understood that. Neither had his father, who didn’t approve of his close relationship with the Potions Master. Draco smiled to himself as he conceded that this was exactly why he’d maintained their friendship. Why had Snape chosen to remain at Hogwarts, though? Draco had never had the nerve to ask before, but tonight he felt particularly frustrated. As he measured a jar of snake eyes, he drew a deep breath.

“I noticed you and Miss Parkinson by the lake this afternoon, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape remarked before Draco could speak. “Did you enjoy the wind off of the water?”

Draco stopped writing and slowly turned towards the professor. Snape’s back was to him as he calmly continued to catalogue potion ingredients, and Draco cleared his throat.

“Well, I wanted to be outside today, since it had stopped snowing. Of course the Gryffindors were taking up half the grounds with their snowball fights, especially Potter and Weasley. If Pansy and I were to have any peace, we had to go down to the lake.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Potter and his faithful sidekick,” Snape said mockingly. “Where there is mischief to be done, there you’ll find the Terrible Twosome.”

Draco laughed and began writing again. “At least they can brew something effectively. I’ve never seen any two who were better at causing trouble and headaches. Three really, we can’t forget about Granger.”

“Yes, my most adept student,” Snape agreed, “so annoyingly unforgettable. I sometimes think she ingests her textbooks. And her knowledge of Hogwarts: A History is legendary, I hear.”

Draco snickered, grinning gleefully as he began to warm up to the topic. “I can just see her doing that. Starting with breakfast she’ll have Arithmancy, Transfiguration for lunch, then Advanced Charms for supper. If brains could give you attitude, she might have made a decent Slytherin!”

“Perish the thought, Mr. Malfoy. I’d hate to think of her bushy head bobbing around the Slytherin Common room, telling everyone what to do.” Snape chuckled.

“Well, it would be constructive, at least.” Draco’s lips pursed. “A lot better than the drivel that spews out of Pansy’s mouth.”

“Indeed,” Snape replied absently, leaning over a jar of dried billywigs.

Draco frowned as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Pansy that afternoon. “She thinks I don’t pay enough attention to her. I was wondering when she’d get the hint.”

“I see, the infamous attitude of men being careless and thoughtless. Careful, Mr. Malfoy, you’ll give us all a bad name.”

“I just don’t see myself with her, Professor,” Malfoy said suddenly. “I sometimes don’t see myself following the exact path my father’s chosen for me either.”

Snape turned carefully around to regard his student. Draco had stopped writing and had half turned himself, staring at the ground, the frown on his face betraying his whirling thoughts.

“You’re quick to judge your father’s plans. Are you so certain of what they might be?” Snape asked casually.

“I’m sure of some of them anyway,” Draco replied restlessly. “I look forward to some, but not others. I suppose it’s my laziness, not wanting to always be toiling for the greater good. When do I get to be selfish?”

“I’d say when you open your eyes in the morning, of course,” Snape quipped, causing Draco to laugh.

“Yes, you’re right. I have plenty to be thankful for. I’m rich, influential, and a pureblood. What more could I want?”

“A life, perhaps?” the professor suggested helpfully. Draco smiled slightly as he lifted a jar of scarab beetles, unaware that the professor was studying his every move and word.

“I have a life,” Draco answered.

“Yes, you do,” Snape agreed.

“In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell my father that I want to…” Draco began, but paused uncertainly.

“Let me guess,” Snape smirked, “you’re secretly in love with Ginny Weasley and the two of you intend to elope this summer.”

“Professor!” Draco whirled around in shock, sputtering and dropping his clipboard in the process.

Snape laughed. “Only joking, Mr. Malfoy. My sense of humor tends to get a bit twisted at these late hours.”

Draco smiled weakly, a line forming between his brows as he retrieved his clipboard. Where had that come from? He was wondering how the professor could have said such a thing, when the Potion Master’s voice cut into his thoughts again.

“Did you enjoy Hogsmeade? I thought I’d heard that you had gone on Saturday,” Snape asked. Draco scowled. “Really, Mr. Malfoy, you should have rested,” Snape rebuked quietly.

“Yes, I did go, and no, I didn’t much enjoy it since I hadn’t slept,” he replied. “Stone was in a bit of a snit as well, because I’d had the bad manners to recover quickly.”

“Mr. Stone displays admirable ambition, Mr. Malfoy. I’d have thought the two of you would unite on some point of scholastic collaboration or other.”

Draco smiled wryly at his clipboard. “We have frequently united on term papers and experiments, Professor, as you well know. And he’s helped a fair bit in the development of the skills of some of our younger members, not to mention in finding…er…volunteers for some of our more experimental charms.” Draco laughed as he remembered Stone gesturing to a bush a few weeks before, indicating Neville Longbottom’s presence. Draco had walked over to the bush with his wand extended, and cast a freezing charm he’d been developing. The spell worked similarly to the Body Bind, except it froze the victim in his or her action completely, instead of binding them and leaving them aware. It was more like petrification with a wand, and the victim’s last memory would be seeing the spell cast. Draco grinned as he recalled how Longbottom had frowned at him for the next week. Pity he’d become so used to being the Slytherin whipping boy, as now he no longer offered the extra entertainment of running away from them.

“So you do get along, then?” Snape asked.

“For the most part,” Draco agreed. “But there’s always competition.”

“Indeed yes,” the professor said lightly, “and where would we be without competition to keep our skills sharp?”

“True, but it gets a bit much at times. It’s just so damn constant,” Draco replied, finishing his list. “You know, there are times I feel more unsafe with my own house mates than I do on a Quidditch field. It’s sad.”

“Why is it sad?”

“Well,” Draco stared at the ground, groping for the right words to express what he was feeling, “I see the other houses and the other students and they all seem so happy together. They look like they know that they’re safe, and that their house mates would defend them in an instant if they were in danger. Hell, Gryffindor proves that time and again! But Slytherin only presents a united face to outsiders. On the inside, the scheming and backstabbing is par for the course. When we sit together and chat at tea or meal times, most of the conversations are opportunities to out do each other’s bragging. It’s pathetic sometimes, it really is.”

Snape was quiet for a moment, then spoke carefully. “There will come moments in your life, Mr. Malfoy, when you will experience doubts about the path you choose to walk in life. The thing to remember is that your choice, once made, will define your person for all time. Whether that leads to success or regret is entirely up to you.”

Draco stared at the Potion Master. His father had often spoken to Draco about choices in life, but not like this. Was Snape telling him something? Draco couldn’t decide, but he had no doubt that he’d been handed another kernel of wisdom from his mentor. Snape just usually chose to be cryptic about it.

“I’m finished with this. What else needs to be done, sir?” Draco said, handing Snape the clipboard.

“That’s all for tonight, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape replied. “You may go.”

Draco nodded and took his leave, heading up the stairs towards the Slytherin Common room. He had made it to the blank stone wall that was the door to the common room before deciding he was hungry. He turned away then and headed for the kitchens.

Like many other students, Draco had discovered the kitchens and the joys of after hours snaking thanks to the obeisant House Elves. Finding Dobby there had been a bit of a shock, and the former Malfoy servant had never once spoken to or served him, but it really didn’t bother Draco. It had irked his father to have to hire paid help, but life had continued pretty much the same for the Malfoy family even after Dobby’s departure. Nothing would ever stop them from living as they were accustomed to.

Draco reached the painting of the fruit bowl and tickled the pear, sweeping into the large kitchen grandly. The House Elves always treated him with the respect he was due, and it was fun reminding them of his station – and theirs.

Immediately upon his entering, several House elves ran over to him, smiling widely and bowing.

“Master Malfoy, is you hungry? We has some freshly baked puddings.” One called Dinky squeaked happily.

Draco looked around imperiously. “That will do, and a sandwich as well.”

The Elves bobbed as four more came running up behind them. Two of them carried a pudding on a plate; another carried a glass, while the fourth carried a small flask of pumpkin juice. Draco accepted them and looked around for a place to sit.

“Yous can sit with Miss Wheezy!” Dinky said shrilly. Draco blinked.

“Sit with what?” he asked.

“He said you can sit with Miss Weasley,” said a low voice from the fireplace. Draco’s head snapped towards the hearth, where Ginny sat looking coolly at him. He scowled.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped. She cocked her head and smiled in amusement.

“The same as you, apparently,” she replied. “I was studying for an exam tomorrow and got hungry.”

The House Elves had already cleared a place for Draco next to Ginny, spreading a blanket on the stone floor and placing his sandwich next to her. It was on the tip of his tongue to order them to wrap everything to go, but he decided against it when Ginny smiled and said, “You afraid of me, Malfoy?”

“Afraid?” he laughed, “don’t be stupid.” He strode over to her and sat down, pouring the pumpkin juice and digging in to his sandwich. He looked over and saw that she was having the same, a corned beef sandwich and pudding. Dinky ran over to them.

“You need more food?” he asked eagerly.

“No, you may go,” Draco replied coldly, making Ginny glare.

“Thank you, Dinky,” she said pointedly, “but I’m fine. I don’t need anything else.”

Draco was irritated by the rush of sudden embarrassment he felt. Why should he be embarrassed? They were servants, and he treated them as such. Why did she have to make it seem like he was being an arse? As soon as Dinky ran back to his duties, he turned to her.

“Look, you and I have both had a pretty rough time recently. If it’s not too much to ask, could we possibly just eat in peace? I’m starving and really not in the mood for an argument.”

Ginny looked at him, surprised at this little demonstration of maturity. He was frowning intently at her, and she had to admit he did look tired. The tender bruises under his slightly red eyes lent him an aspect of vulnerability, much as the night when he’d been attacked. And he looked thinner: his cheeks appeared sharper in his pale face. Even his hair was slightly mussed, falling over his stormy gray eyes and sticking out in little tufts around his ears. She blinked as she realized he was cute.

“Well?” he demanded impatiently, causing her to start.

“All right, yes.” She frowned, turning away and stuffing her sandwich in her mouth to cover her embarrassment. Draco looked at her for a moment, then nodded and turned his attention to his own meal.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ginny glancing furtively at him. He ate quickly, obviously famished. She wondered what he’d been doing to work up such an appetite, and then wondered why she cared. He certainly seemed to take no more notice of her once their little agreement had been reached, which irritated her. A sudden desire to make him acknowledge her presence seized hold, and she followed it.

“The first Quidditch game of the season is next week,” she said casually, “Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. Are you ready for it?”

Draco looked up at her, frowning. “What do you mean ‘am I ready’? Of course I’m ready. I’ve been training harder than last year, so why wouldn’t I be ready?”

“Sorry,” she replied irritably, “I was just making conversation.”

“Supper’s for eating, Weasley. If I want conversation I’ll find my friends.”

“Crabbe and Goyle,” she laughed, “what brilliant discussions you must have! Do they involve words?”

“Sod off!” he snapped.

Ginny glared for a moment then turned away, gulping her pumpkin juice so forcibly she choked.

“Watch it!” Draco began pounding on her back roughly, causing Ginny to spew out half her juice. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her mouth with one hand, using the other to fend off his fist.

“I’m all right,” she gasped, “stop it, I’m fine!”

“Sorry.” He stopped hitting her, feeling awkward. “You sure you’re all right?”

Ginny nodded, one hand pressed against her chest as she waited for the burning in her throat to die down. He looked at her, wanting to ask again if she was all right, and feeling a flash of irritation for it. She wasn’t dying, for heaven’s sake!

After a moment, she lowered her napkin and rubbed her throat. It was then that they both noticed several of the House Elves ringed around them, looking anxiously at Ginny.

“Does Miss need a warm drink?” one of them asked. Ginny smiled and shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she croaked, sounding for all the world like a frog with laryngitis. Draco barely stifled a snort, and the House Elves continued to watch Ginny with concern. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“Really, I’m all right.” This time her voice was merely scratchy, and the House Elves breathed a collective sigh of relief. Probably think they’d be held responsible, Draco thought in amusement. He didn’t see how, though, considering the forgiving nature of the Headmaster. Now if they worked for the Malfoys, it would be a different matter entirely.

“You can go,” he said to them. Ginny nodded her agreement, and the elves dispersed.

Ginny continued to rub her throat, though every second it was feeling better. She turned to Draco and found him grinning at her.

“What?” she asked, frowning in surprise.

“You,” he replied, shaking his head. “For a moment you sounded like a toad.”

She glared at him. “If I did, it’s your fault Malfoy.”

“My fault, is it? How’s that? I didn’t go and make you slurp your drink like that. You should be more careful. Next time you might drown on a glass of milk.”

She closed her eyes. “Malfoy, do me a favor and shut up!”

He chuckled, feeling giddy and enjoying her embarrassment. Drown on a glass of milk! He cracked himself up sometimes. She was throwing him quite an evil look, but it only made him laugh harder. Her lip twitched, and for some reason that was funny too. He began to chortle and rock forward, holding his stomach.

“I’m fine,” he croaked in imitation of her, and Ginny had to bite her lips to keep from smiling.

“It’s not funny,” she said forcefully, her face contorting as the struggle not to join him became obvious. But at that moment, Draco rocked forward hard enough to almost bang his head upon the floor, and as he reared back he over balanced and cracked his skull into the fireplace.

“Ouch!” he cried, his hands flying to the back of his head. Ginny’s laughter burst out of her, the situation rendered all the more ridiculous because Draco was now curled up on the floor, holding his head and laughing like a maniac. He had a laugh like a crazed hyena, which amazed her, and tears started to run down her face.

“Stop it!” she gasped. “I have to pee now!”

Draco nodded vigorously, his face red and tear streaked as well. After several minutes they were able to stop, but the moment they looked at each other, they burst into giggles again.

Is this happening? Ginny wondered. It felt very unreal, lying on a stone floor laughing hysterically with Malfoy. It was several more minutes before she was able to reign herself in again, and as she sat up, she noticed Draco was flushed and glowing.

“Blimey, you look good with color in your face,” she murmured.

Draco stopped laughing and stared at her in surprise. “What?”

Ginny blinked, unable to believe she’d said that out loud. “Er…well you’re always so pale,” she explained awkwardly, “I was just saying, I mean thinking…you look all right,” she finished lamely.

Draco wasn’t at all certain how to take that. Had Weasley just complimented him? Or was this a clever insult? His expression was caught somewhere between confusion and irritation, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Ginny fidgeted for a moment, and then stood up abruptly.

“I have to get back,” she said, not looking at him. “Er…good night.”

She had almost reached the door when Draco’s voice stopped her. “Hey Weasley!”

She turned around to face him. He was still sitting on the floor, his robes askew and his hair sticking out in all directions. There was a strange look in his eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Thanks for the laugh,” he said quietly.

Ginny’s heart gave a thump at that. “You’re welcome Draco. Good night.”

A moment later she was gone, leaving Draco to wonder what was happening to his life.

The weeks passed and autumn became winter. It was a cold Saturday morning in December when Ginny found herself headed for the Quidditch Pitch with the rest of the school. The match for the day was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and Ginny was eager to get a good spot to watch Harry and Ron, who’d become a Chaser in his fifth year. Hermione gripped a jug of pumpkin juice and grinned at Ginny, and they walked faster towards the Pitch.

Once they arrived, they were able to snag top spots in the stands. The teams were still in their locker rooms, so Ginny took a glass of juice from Hermione and settled in to wait. The stands were filling fast, and students were jostling playfully and talking excitedly about the chances of Hufflepuff pulling a victory out of the hat. They had a new Beater named Enid Foster, a fourth year with a strong arm who could deliver powerful blows from her bat. Their Captain, Donald MacCabe, had put together a strong team, and their Seeker -- a girl by the name of Charlotte Graham – was quick as lightening and particularly adept at diving. But Gryffindor still had Harry; arguably the best Seeker the school had ever seen, who owned the best broom around, and Ron, a fierce Chaser who thought nothing of flying recklessly through any formation in front of the goal post to gain a score. Their Beaters, two fifth years named David Stiles and Andrew MacLeod, were spot on with their bats, often almost knocking opponents off their brooms. The other two Chasers, Natalie MacDonald and Robert Carroll, and the Keeper, Neville Longbottom, were all strong and capable players. Neville had surprised everyone when he’d finally built up his courage enough to try out for a position, but he’d turned out to be an excellent Keeper, strong and quick on his broom. The Quaffle rarely got by him.

“D’you think it’ll be a tough game?” Dennis Creevy, seated next to Ginny, asked anxiously. She grinned.

“Yes, but I think our chances are excellent. We’re undefeated so far.”

“If Slytherin could just manage to lose their match next Saturday, they’d be that much closer to elimination,” Hermione sniffed.

Not bloody likely, Ginny thought. Slytherin’s only defeat so far was to Gryffindor, which put them just behind in the competition for the Quidditch Cup. If Hufflepuff could win this game, they’d pull ahead of Ravenclaw. Ginny found herself hoping that wouldn’t happen, since Ravenclaw was her best friend’s House. Not to mention she was rooting for Gryffindor!

She looked around the stands, and directly across from their position, saw the Slytherins all grouped together. She squinted a bit and caught the silver blond head of Draco Malfoy standing with Crabbe and Goyle, as usual. He was looking around the field and talking with several people, but he was too far away for her to see his expression clearly. Her heart gave a thump as she stared at him and she felt confusion flood her mind. She hadn’t forgotten that night in the kitchen. She had, in fact, thought about it a great deal. Since that time she’d been unable to see him in the halls without blushing. She was no longer certain about who he was, or how she felt about him, and that made her angry and miserable. She felt her face grow warm as she recalled the times their eyes had met whilst they passed each other in the corridors. She would see him, and his eyes would lock with hers. Something tremendous and almost palpable would pass between them in those scant moments, and she never failed to experience a draining heat wash over her. Only a few seconds, yet it felt timeless and unreal as her heart would begin to pound. But they never spoke or had any other communication except that. Something like frustration shivered through her, and she had to tear her eyes away from him in order to force it from her mind.

“Professor Lupin!” Hermione gasped, causing Ginny to start. Hermione was looking towards the stairs as Lupin and a woman Ginny didn’t know entered their row. He smiled widely at Hermione and Ginny, walking towards them and taking a spot on Hermione’s other side. Hermione shook hands with him and the lady, and then turned to Ginny.

“This is Ron’s sister, Virginia Weasley. Ginny, you know Professor Lupin, and this is his friend, Elizabeth Morgan.”

“Call me Ginny,” she smiled, shaking hands with both. The woman was very pretty, but there was something about her that pricked Ginny. She had strange hazel eyes, short dark hair, and was dressed in violet robes. She and the professor were holding hands, which was nice. But Ginny felt slightly uneasy in her presence.

All around Lupin the students who remembered him were greeting him enthusiastically, asking where he taught at the present and if he’d consider returning to Hogwarts. Remus laughed and thanked everyone, but assured them that he was very busy and was unlikely to return to the school. Disappointment greeted his words, but everyone was glad to see him.

“What brings you here Professor?” Ginny asked. He turned back to her and smiled.

“I was in Hogsmeade picking up supplies and I thought I’d visit. It’s always wonderful to see the place and the staff, especially the headmaster. And since I haven’t seen a good Quidditch match in a while,” he grinned here, “I asked if perhaps I could see how the teams have changed since I’ve been here.”

Hermione laughed. “Very clever Professor. I’m sure we could all benefit from your critique on the match as well.”

Elizabeth laughed too. “I always tell him he’s too clever for his own good!”

Ginny smiled but said nothing, turning her attention to the Pitch. The players were emerging, and Caleb Anderson, a Slytherin sixth year and the new commentator, began to announce them.

“The Hufflepuffs take the Pitch, all decked out in their canary yellow too. Fashionable color, yellow, you can see it for miles! Aahh, and here comes Gryffindor in their own ketchup colored robes. This should be an interesting game indeed! Er…is anyone suddenly in the mood for a hamburger, or is it just me?”

“Professor Snape,” McGonagall glared, “perhaps you could encourage your student to concentrate on the game?”

The Potions Master smirked. “Now, Mr. Anderson, please refrain from using too many accurate descriptions. No one will be able to watch the game from laughing.”

“Apologies, Professor. Back to the game—and the Quaffle is up, caught by Weasley, whose hair clashes with his robes. Sorry Professor, just an observation. He’s trundling along—nice pass to MacDonald. Knows when he’s licked, of course. MacDonald is streaking over to the Hufflepuff goal--Oo--Almost knocked off her broom by a Bludger from Foster. She’s dropped the Quaffle, and it’s picked up by MacCabe, who I hear wears frilly pants under his school robes-“

“Anderson, you will keep such drivel out of your commentary!” McGonagall growled.

“Sorry Professor McGonagall. And MacCabe is headed off midway by Carroll, who snatches the Quaffle quite nastily away. Makes you wonder at their constant accusations of cheating to Slytherin—yes Professor, I was just saying—Carroll ducks a Bludger and is thrown into contact with Barnes. Nice shoving match! Oo, and Barnes is kicking. Any wagers as to who gets knocked off their broom?”

“Mr. Anderson,” Snape smirked nastily, “betting is not allowed.”

“Indeed not, Professor Snape. And Carroll whips around Barnes as Alnor knocks a Bludger towards—but he’s past them! Keeper Lara Bussey charges out to stop—GRYFFINDOR SCORES!”

Ginny cheered loudly and enthusiastically, almost dancing with glee. Ron spun a loop with joy, then raced back into the fray. The Quaffle was now held by James Caldwell, a Chaser for Hufflepuff, who was flying like mad towards the Gryffindor goal. He was stopped short when MacLeod swung his bat and sent a Bludger straight for him.

“FIRST BLOOD!” screamed Caleb Anderson. “Caldwell gets a Bludger to the face! Very picturesque, I might add. Sorry Professor. An unbiased observance, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

Ginny gasped with everyone else as Caldwell floated jerkily to the ground. A time out was called, and Ginny looked up to see where Harry was. She spotted him flying high above the Pitch and she knew he was searching for a glimmer of gold. After a few moments, the game resumed, Caldwell having refused to stop playing, cleaning up as best he could. The Quaffle was thrown and once again caught by Ron, who flew towards the goal post. He was forced to pull up as a Bludger from Foster flew towards him, and as he dodged the Quaffle was snatched out of his arms by MacCabe, who once again began to zip towards the Gryffindor goal. Stiles bashed viciously on a Bludger, aiming for MacCabe’s broom, but the Hufflepuff Captain expertly dodged. He managed to sweep past MacDonald, but almost smacked into Carroll and the two tussled furiously before MacCabe managed a mid-air roll away from the Gryffindor Chaser. Ron was still flying towards him, but he had a clear shot and launched the Quaffle.

BAMPF! The sound of leather colliding with cloth met MacCabe’s ears as Neville suddenly appeared and blocked the shot perfectly, launching the Quaffle at Ron as soon as he was close enough. MacCabe and Caldwell sped after him.

The game grew furious. Down in the stands, Ginny was clutching at Hermione’s robes and cheering herself hoarse. Ron passed to MacDonald, who shot upwards and managed to avoid both Bludgers aimed at her. When Barnes streaked for her, she passed the Quaffle smoothly to Carroll, who shot it to Ron in front of the goal. Once again Gryffindor scored. They were up twenty to zero, and the cheers from the Gryffindors in the stands were deafening. Another time out was called, and Ginny took a moment to grab her juice and gulp it excitedly, her throat raw from screaming. It was then that she noticed Professor Lupin’s companion, the woman named Elizabeth, was gone. Professor Lupin was talking excitedly to several students and Ginny had a clear view of the lower stands from where she was. But the woman had vanished.

“Professor, your friend might want to return quickly, before the time out is over,” Ginny said, looking at the Pitch.

“What’s that?” The Professor blinked at Ginny, and then looked around. “I’m sure she’ll be along in a moment. Probably had to take care of some personal business, if you know what I mean.”

Ginny nodded, wondering why he wasn’t concerned. Probably? Hadn’t she told him? They’d seemed rather close when they’d appeared, so she had a hard time believing that Elizabeth had ran off without even saying where she was going. The feeling of uneasiness returned, and Ginny began to wonder what secrets the woman might be keeping from Lupin. But perhaps she was overreacting. She knew absolutely nothing about the woman; perhaps this was the way she always behaved. . Ginny tried to shrug off the negative feelings by allowing her eyes to sweep the stands for Draco again. She found him quickly, and felt her stomach clench when she saw Pansy Parkinson standing with him, her arm looped comfortably through his. He didn’t seem to mind, and Pansy, as usual, appeared to be talking since she was gesturing a lot with her other hand. What in the name of sanity did he see in her? Even from this distance, Pansy’s every gesture and move spoke of her shallowness. Her stance was affected and obvious, and Ginny could almost hear her annoying voice bulleting out mindless drivel, from make-up to this or that person’s appearance. Draco Malfoy might be shallow and rude himself, but surely he didn’t like hearing it from someone else, did he? The crowed roared suddenly, indicating that the match was resuming. It was then that Ginny caught a flash of violet to Draco’s left.

She snapped her gaze back towards the stands; straining her eyes at the spot she’d seen it. But it was too far away, and all she could see were the black robes of the students. She continued to sweep her gaze over and over the spot, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Another roar of applause told her another goal had been scored, so she reluctantly tore her eyes away and tried to concentrate on the game. Hufflepuff had scored a goal, and it was now ten to twenty. Harry was flying low over the players, almost in their midst. Charlotte Graham was doing the same and seemed to be marking Harry’s every move. It made sense, since her broom wouldn’t match the speed of Harry’s Firebolt.

“And the Gryffs are still ten points up,” Anderson prattled. “But perhaps the Badgers might be able to change things, if they can get focused! Don’t know when I’ve seen Beaters miss so much, though perhaps Foster and Alnor can look forward to a successful career with the Chudley Cannons. Joking, Professor, only joking. Weasley has the Quaffle, amazingly enough, and the Hufflepuffs pursue him lovingly—AH!—MacDonald collides with Barnes, preventing him from getting to Weasley—MacCabe flying like a madman towards the goal and—successful block by Bussey, and the Hufflepuffs take possession. Hang on, Potter is diving!”

Ginny watched as Harry suddenly swept into a spectacular dive, arm outstretched. Graham was right behind him, fighting to catch up and stretching her arm out as well. Everyone stopped and held their breath as the seekers fought to lay hands on the Snitch. Ginny couldn’t see it, until it suddenly streaked vertically, avoiding the ground and the Seekers’ grasping hands. Harry was after it in a flash; Graham struggled to match speed with him as the crowd roared louder than ever. Ginny lost the Snitch after a second, but she saw Harry begin a sharp horizontal rise. Graham was still a little behind him, but was catching up. A Bludger suddenly flew towards Harry, and he was forced to slow and pull his hand back, giving Graham the chance to pass him. Ginny could almost hear Harry swearing viciously in her mind, and she watched him race towards the Snitch with redoubled speed. He and Graham were neck and neck, reaching and diving and stretching their arms—

Harry’s longer reach allowed him to pull ahead of Charlotte and his hand snapped closed. He suddenly slowed and rocked back on his broom, holding his hand high above his head. He’d caught the Snitch!

“Potter pulls it off,” Anderson yelled sourly as the stands exploded with cheers. “Gryffindor wins 170 to 10. Now who’s just as stunned as I am?”

Ginny was jumping up and down with Hermione and the other Gryffindors. They’d done it, they’d won! She was sure a party would be thrown. Hermione was glowing with pride, and even Professor Lupin was grinning from ear to ear.

“Has the game changed much professor?” Ginny asked breathlessly. He laughed.

“Not at all Miss Weasley, it’s everything I remember and more!”

Ginny spun around happily, feeling silly but not really caring. Victory was in the air, and she loved it. She looked across the Pitch once more, hoping to see Malfoy and maybe catch his eye and rub it in. But the Slytherins were already emptying out of the stands, and she was just in time to see Draco’s silver blond head disappear through one of the exits.

Followed by a figure in violet robes.

Normal Raquel Dodd 8 43 2003-04-28T00:19:00Z 2002-12-06T07:31:00Z 2003-05-13T09:12:00Z 1 5360 30553 254 71 35842 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 8

Ginny sat watching the celebration going on around her and tried to join in, but she failed. She was glad Gryffindor had won, but since leaving the Pitch and seeing a figure who could only be Professor Lupin’s companion, Elizabeth Morgan, following Draco, she had been worried and a little fearful. What did a grown woman want with him, and why had Lupin been unconcerned by her disappearance, but slightly startled by Ginny’s enquiry? Did this have anything to do with the explosion or the werewolf attack? And if it did, was Draco in danger? Was she in danger? The questions whirled around her head, and she found herself in no mood to celebrate.

She looked over at Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who’d been mysteriously late for the party. I wonder why, she thought resentfully. They’d probably gone to meet with Lupin, who probably knew something. She noticed he’d disappeared quite quickly after her last question to him, and since the Fantastic Trio were always in the thick of things she had no doubt they’d gone and had some secret meeting with him. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she could try asking them, just once more. Maybe she could convince them that she could be trusted, especially after the attack by the werewolf. If that didn’t prove something, she wasn’t sure what would. But right now was hardly the time, especially since they were laughing and joking with everyone so happily. Maybe later on in the evening when things quieted down, she’d approach them. At the moment she just felt like being alone, and decided to go for a walk. Getting up, she crossed to the portrait behind as many people as she could. She didn’t want anyone asking her questions, she just wanted to leave peacefully.

Once outside, Ginny wondered where to go. It was still early afternoon, but there wasn’t much going on now that the match was over. Perhaps she could walk over to Hogsmeade? But students weren’t allowed to go alone. The trips were only allowed on condition that you went with your house mates, as a group. She sighed and settled for sitting by the lake. Walking down the stairs, she made her way over to the front doors and stepped outside.

The leaden clouds were thin and strafed, like brushstrokes on a gloomy painting. Ginny walked slowly, savoring the wind as it stirred her hair and bit her cheeks. The usual sitting spot for her and Susan was a short distance away, and as she headed for it, she heard a female voice emanating from under a small copse of trees.

“…like filthy pigs. I wonder how anyone can stand to be in the same room with them, I really do. You’d think that their mother could afford to invest in some fashion sense for them!” Pansy Parkinson tittered at her own joke, and Ginny silently ducked behind a large oak as she approached the copse. She saw Draco standing stiffly, arms folded while Pansy clutched at his shoulder and continued to prattle.

“And there’s that girl Rosella, she’s in our House. A third year, I believe. Well, I saw her attempting to wear make-up the other day, and I simply had to advise her not to do so anymore. She looked positively clownish, she really did! Even Millicent noticed, and that’s saying something. But it’s like I always tell Millicent, those of us who are truly superior must help the others. That Rosella doesn’t have a lot of influence, being a foreigner. Her parents don’t even move in the right circles! I was thinking I should talk to her about that…”

Pansy droned on in this manner for several minutes, not even waiting for Draco to reply. Not that he would have, judging from the blank look on his face. If he was hearing a word of what she was saying, Ginny would eat toadstools. She felt a kind of grim satisfaction seeing this. Even when Ginny was arguing with him Draco was at least paying attention. Top that little Pansy, she thought. Ginny felt a stab of guilt at eavesdropping like this, but she was intrigued. It puzzled her the way Draco simply stood there and let Pansy talk her nonsense when he clearly had no interest in what she was saying. Why didn’t he just leave? Was he somehow obligated to stand there and put up with Pansy’s irritating diatribe? Ginny stared at him closely, trying to read the thoughts behind his rain-gray eyes but failing. For once his expression was completely closed off, and Ginny felt her heart soften towards him. Whatever was prompting him to stand there and put up with Pansy’s stupidity couldn’t be good or right. Ginny suddenly thought of the notion she’d always had of rich people only marrying other rich people. What little she knew of Lucius Malfoy made her think that this might be the case here. Her instincts told her that Draco didn’t want this, yet he was standing there and allowing Pansy to talk and talk. To someone as unbelievably stupid and shallow as Pansy Parkinson this amounted to encouragement, and Ginny had no doubt that Draco was aware of this. But why put himself through it now, especially since his father was miles away?

Ginny let her eyes drop to the ground, remembering her encounter with Draco in the kitchens. He’d been rude, but their parting words had been more than polite and the emotions she’d felt stirring in her breast had not abated. She raised her eyes once more and stared at him in a way she’d not allowed herself to do before. His hair was plastered smoothly to his skull, its silvery sheen more noticeable in the gloomy light of the afternoon. His features seemed sculpted from ivory, fine boned and perfect, his slightly arrogant expression giving him an air of worldly knowledge and strength. He was tall, and she doubted the top of her head reached higher than his chin. Her eyes dropped to his hands, studying them as they rested on his arms. They were beautifully molded with long, slender fingers and manicured nails. She remembered when she’d pulled him out of the Tower, remembered feeling his sleek muscles against her. She raised her eyes to his face again, and at that exact moment his gaze fell on her.

Ginny went stiff with shock, her heart pounding and her face flooding with heat as Draco’s eyes widened slightly. She was afraid to move lest she call any more attention to herself, but didn’t think she could stay there much longer without dying of embarrassment. She felt her mouth open, as if to voice an excuse for her presence in this clearly private conversation, when Draco did something that shocked her even more.

He smiled at her.

Not obviously, as Pansy was right next to him and would have seen it. Just a small ghost of a smile, exactly like the one he’d given her when she’d left the kitchens that night. The pounding of her heart doubled, and she found herself feeling confused and flattered all at once. She smiled back, wondering what was happening to the safe and ordered life she’d led before now. Here she was, smiling at Draco Malfoy, falling in love with her brother’s worst enemy.

The thought wiped the smile from her face and Ginny felt panic spread through her, shoving all other emotions aside. She backed away from the tree slowly; her eyes still locked with Draco’s and her mind a jumble of confused memories. Draco Malfoy, standing in front of the silver letters which proclaimed that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, his face flushed with excitement. Draco, buying his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team, tossing the vile insult of Mudblood at Hermione. The time he’d pretended to be severely injured by Buckbeak so the Slytherins wouldn’t have to play Quidditch in inclement weather; the time he had attempted to goad Harry into tracking down Sirius Black himself, when everyone was convinced of Black’s guilt as a murderer. And worst of all, his callousness at the news of Cedric Diggory’s death, and his pleasure at the rebirth of Voldemort. What was she thinking? She didn’t, couldn’t love someone so hard-hearted! It was insane, she was insane!

Tearing her gaze from Draco’s puzzled eyes, Ginny ran back to the castle.

************

Draco watched in some confusion as Ginny ran to the castle as though being pursued by a dragon. He wasn’t sure what had happened. One moment they were smiling at each other, his heart flooding with a now familiar warmth that he only felt in Ginny’s presence. Then suddenly she was looking at him with fright, backing away as if he’d sprouted fangs and fur. I didn’t even do anything this time, he thought dazedly.

“Draco, are you listening to me?” Pansy’s voice interrupted his thoughts and caused him to start.

“Not really,” he replied absently, wanting to go after Ginny but afraid to as well. Would she welcome him or curse him? What had caused her smile to fade so abruptly? Did she, perhaps, return his feelings? But how was that possible when he didn’t even know what those feelings were? A stinging smack on his arm caused him to turn angrily to Pansy, who was glaring at him.

“How dare you ignore me like this?” she snapped, her face going red with rage. “Do I have to owl your father again?”

“What?” Draco snapped, his anger rising with this revelation. “Owl my father? That was you?”

Pansy changed her tone at once. “Draco, darling, I know it was terrible of me to complain, but I was getting worried about how distracted you’ve been. I told your father that it was probably your studies, but you’ve just been so irritable and mean lately. I only asked him to talk to you for your own good.”

Draco turned fully to Pansy, his expression furious.

“Do you have any idea what my father threatened to do to me?” he hissed. “Let me quote, ‘If you don’t start showing proper behavior to our friends, I will not hesitate to pull you off of the Quidditch team!’ Those were his exact words, and he knows how much I love Quidditch!”

Pansy had the good grace to blush. “Oh Draco, I’m sorry to have caused such trouble. But really,” she looked at him slyly, “perhaps such warnings are necessary when you forget what’s owed to the allies of your family.”

Draco stared, taken aback by her gall. ‘What’s owed to the allies of your family’? The Parkinson’s wouldn’t have half of their power and influence without the Malfoys, how could she dare say that to him? There was only one answer, and it was the fact that Draco’s father had already given his blessing to this match. Pansy wouldn’t have dared such a bold move as to owl his father without being absolutely sure that she would get a favorable response. Her china blue eyes regarded Draco expectantly; obviously certain that this little reminder would be all she needed to pull him in line.

If he wasn’t nice to Pansy, he’d be pulled from the Quidditch team. Lucius Malfoy never issued idle threats, and Draco was once again reminded that his life was to be lived for the glory of the Malfoy name and the furthering of the Dark Lord’s power.

It wasn’t really his life then, was it?

Turning on his heel, Draco stalked away from Pansy, ignoring her calls to come back. The fact that she wasn’t pursuing told him she was going to owl his father again. It had worked once, and now she knew she had a powerful ally in the battle to force Draco to submit to her. He felt his face tighten, the muscles cramping horribly. His stomach clenched painfully as he imagined Lewis Halford delivering the news that he was to be cut from the team. The stupid prat will get a joyous kick out of that, he thought bitterly. It might happen as early as tomorrow, and he felt a helpless rage fill him. He didn’t see where he was going; he just kept walking as his mind buzzed with disjointed images, thoughts, and feelings. Before he knew it, he was standing before the main entrance to the Quidditch Pitch. He stared silently for a moment, feeling his heartache at the thought of never entering the stadium as a competitor again. Then he slowly walked inside.

The stands rose around him as they’d always done, their emptiness and silence strange and a bit unnerving. He never noticed it during practice because he was too busy learning new moves and perfecting old ones. But now it struck him as wrong, because the seats should be filled with laughter and cheers. He tilted his head back and stared at the afternoon sky, imagining all the battles he’d fought up there. How many times had the thrill of flight energized him, inspiring him to fight his hardest for the Snitch? But even there he hadn’t been free of the bitterness that caused him to compare himself to others. It had been years before he’d been able to stop trying to knock other Seekers off their brooms and just concentrate on finding the Snitch. He’d never been able to completely overcome the tendency, especially when he was facing Potter. Why? Because he was the Malfoy heir, and it was his duty to show off his superiority.

It suddenly seemed like the stupidest reason in the world to do anything.

Or was it because he’d never felt he’d done anything well enough to please his father, his mother, his teachers, and had been determined to humiliate others to get some kind of retribution? My life will be sacrificed to glorify the family honor, he thought. I will become a willing servant to the Dark Lord, working hard to gain power and favor. Marriage will be arranged with a suitable partner out of duty and the expansion of power, to the benefit of both families. Love is not an option, or even an issue. Happiness is not in question, because doing one’s duty should bring happiness. This is my path, Draco thought, chosen by my father.

His rage threatened to choke him, and he never noticed the figure that entered the Pitch behind him.

He suddenly thought of Ginny, with her strong will, courageous heart, and generous nature. She wouldn’t be forced to marry a man just to raise her family’s fortunes, and she would never allow anyone to threaten her just because they thought she wasn’t being a good enough Weasley. He remembered the fear in her eyes as she’d faced the werewolf, but she hadn’t run. Draco was certain that, in her place, he would have. It shamed him, a beautiful girl possessing courage in measures he couldn’t begin to comprehend. She would never allow Lucius Malfoy to rule her life.

And neither will I, he thought determinedly. The choice was his, he now knew, and he could either bow to his father’s will or find his own path. That’s what Snape meant, he realized. He was choosing to be free, to live his own life. And this choice was going to define his person for all time.

As his thoughts reached this giddy height, he heard a soft noise behind him. Before he could turn, strong hands seized him, one clamping over his mouth, the other grabbing his waist and lifting him off the ground.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Malfoy,” a cold, accented voice laughed in his ear. Draco struggled to free himself, but the man’s grip -- for it had been a man’s voice -- was strong as steel. The stranger allowed Draco to struggle for a few moments, then began to laugh. The sound sent chills down Draco’s spine, for the voice held a sibilant quality that Draco had heard only once before, when his father had had dealings with Vampires in league with Voldemort.

“I would like to ask you to stop struggling, Mr. Malfoy, but it’s so amusing that I think I’ll let you continue.” The man began to walk with Draco to the far end of the pitch, where Draco saw two more figures emerge from the shadows, a man and a woman. The woman had short blonde hair and brown eyes, was of medium build, and wore a cruel expression. The man had very long, dark hair that was braided with feathers and an odd assortment of decorations. He reminded Draco of an ancient Celt. Unlike the woman, he looked worried. Both were deathly pale, their veins almost clear in the late afternoon light, increasing his suspicion that they were Vampires.

“Is this the boy?” he asked curtly. The woman laughed.

“Who else would it be? He fits the description perfectly. A fairly tall blond with gray eyes, hair plastered to his head.” She pointed her hand at his throat and began to speak:

“Selo le Boca!” she cried, and Draco felt his throat tighten strangely. At a gesture from the woman, the man holding him uncovered his mouth. Draco tried to cry out, but no sound issued from his throat. Once again, the woman laughed coldly.

“Yes, I’ve sealed that loud mouth of yours, Mr. Malfoy. Can’t have you giving us away, can we?”

“We should go,” the man with the braided hair said. “They could be watching—DAMN!”

Draco was tossed roughly to the ground, his head held down as ropes were swiftly wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Somewhere beside him a magical explosion tore the dim afternoon’s silence. The Vampires began to speak rapidly to each other, and then the woman cried out another spell. Draco looked up and saw a fireball erupt from her hands just before he was picked back up and carried a short distance to a large box, which he was unceremoniously dumped inside. He struggled against his bonds, trying in vain to holler out to whoever was attacking the monsters. But his voice was gone for the moment, and he doubted it would have been heard anyway as the magical explosions suddenly increased. What in the name of heaven was going on? Why was he being kidnapped by Vampires, why were they walking in daylight? Panic was pressing down on him, as was a strong sense of claustrophobia. He wriggled furiously and managed to get his bound feet from under him, then began kicking the box lid. To his surprise it flew right off, and the darkening sky met his gaze. Recovering quickly, he began to rock from side to side, tipping the box over after a few moments and wriggling out. He looked up to see two figures firing spells out of their wands at the Vampires. One of the creatures, the one who’d been holding him apparently, was lying unconscious on the ground. The other two were backing up, continuing to fire spells. Then Draco saw the unmistakable figure of the headmaster striding up behind the first two wizards, his wand pointed straight at the Vampires. The one with the braided hair turned wide eyes on the blond haired woman, speaking even faster than before. The woman launched another fireball, then turned and cried out another spell. A magic carpet suddenly floated to them, and they jumped on it while it was still a good five feet away. The woman turned and looked at the box, eyes widening when she saw it lying on its side. When she saw Draco, she pointed furiously at him.

“This isn’t the end, Malfoy, we shall return for you!”

The carpet shot away, leaving the unconscious Vampire behind, and a confused, frightened, and furious Draco Malfoy glaring after them.

*************

Twenty minutes later, Draco sat in the infirmary watching Madam Pomfrey grab her wand and press it to the back of his skull. He winced slightly, feeling a knot forming where he’d struck his head while being tossed into that box.

“Reducio Doleo,” she muttered, her magic instantly reducing the bump on his head to nothing.

Raising his eyes, he spied the two wizards who, along with Dumbledore, had saved him. One was Remus Lupin, and the other was a woman he remembered seeing briefly at the Quidditch Match. They were huddled in conference with the headmaster and Professor Snape several feet away. Draco couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he was determined to find out.

“Since you seem to know what’s going on, perhaps you’d be so good as to share your information?” he said loudly, instantly silencing their talk.

The woman stared uncertainly at Draco, then at Lupin. Dumbledore nodded and Snape smiled slightly as he regarded his protégé.

Draco frowned at the woman in the violet robes. “I know you! You were at the match earlier today.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I was watching you. We…”

She stopped speaking, looking to Dumbledore. The headmaster regarded Draco gravely.

“You are, doubtless, anxious to know what information we have on your attackers, Mr. Malfoy. I’m afraid their exact identities must wait until the person we captured is questioned. But I can tell you that you’re a pawn in a game of revenge.”

Draco stared at the headmaster, feeling shocked and a bit affronted. Who on earth would dare to attack him? Who would be willing to incur the wrath of Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater who stood high in Lord Voldemort’s favor?

“What are you talking about? Who’s game?” he snapped, his gray eyes narrowing.

The headmaster moved towards him, raising a hand for silence. “I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, but I must ask for your patience. I would like to question our captive first before I tell you anything. I have only half-formed speculations at this point. I have already owled your father about this, and the Ministry as well. They have dispatched an Auror and he’ll be here before midnight.”

Draco scowled, his gaze dropping to the floor as he felt frustration bubble through him at the thought of being kept ignorant while his life was being plotted against by unknown forces. Patience was not a virtue he’d ever cultivated, but he also knew better than to argue the point with the headmaster.

“Severus,” the headmaster said suddenly, “would you be so good as to double check that the Prefects on patrol duty are avoiding the doors to the dungeon where our captive is being held? I don’t want them charmed into setting him free.”

Snape nodded, a slight frown on his face, and left. Draco felt some of his strength leave with the Potions Master. Snape had met them at the oak doors as Draco had been brought in by Dumbledore and the others, and had stood by him the whole time. Like a concerned father might do, Draco thought.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, it’s very important that you tell us everything they told you. It might mean nothing, but then again…” the headmaster gestured expansively.

Draco was about to reply when the door to the infirmary burst open and Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed in, heading straight for Lupin.

“Professor, we heard,” Harry began breathlessly. “Are you all right?”

“It’s all right Harry, please calm down.” Lupin smiled reassuringly at them.

Both Hermione and Ron began questioning him and Elizabeth at the same time, their expressions showing much concern. Remus laughed and called for calmness again, while Draco stared incredulously at the trio.

“But what happened?” Hermione asked, still frowning with worry.

“Oh nothing,” Draco spat. “I was nearly kidnapped by Vampires, but it happens all the time. No need to worry about me!”

The trio turned with surprise to Draco, not having noticed him before that moment because of their concern for Lupin and his companion.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry asked, frowning. Before Draco could think of something scathing enough to say, the headmaster stepped in.

“I think we can do without any more conflict this evening,” he said quietly. “And I believe I gave strict orders for students to remain in their common rooms. I’m afraid this will cost Gryffindor five points.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s mouths dropped and they hung their heads guiltily, while Draco smiled in satisfaction. Take that, you worms! he thought gleefully. Ron scowled poisonously at Draco.

Dumbledore turned to Draco once more. “You were about to say, Mr. Malfoy?”

“The one who grabbed me just said he liked the fact that I was struggling,” Draco replied. “The man with the long braids asked the other two if they were sure that I was the one, and the woman said I fit the description of fairly tall, gray eyes, and…”

“Go on,” the headmaster prompted.

“And blond hair,” he concluded, not wanting to repeat what she’d said about his hair in front of his Gryffindor enemies. “Then the man with the braids said that we should go because ‘they might be watching’, and then you came. That was all.”

The headmaster nodded. “Thank you Mr. Malfoy. That was most helpful.”

Oh yes, Draco thought, how? He looked around at everyone in the room. The trio were frowning in various degrees of puzzlement, Lupin was regarding Draco with a curious mixture of concern and sadness, making Draco wonder what he knew. And the woman in the violet robes wore a somewhat hooded expression. Draco’s gaze rested on her for a moment, struck by the air of mystery about her. She seemed to be looking right through him with her strange, greenish-brown eyes, and Draco felt a slight chill snake through his body. The headmaster’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Now, if that is all, the four of you may return to your common rooms.”

Draco stood to go, pausing for a moment to watch the trio take their leave of Lupin and the woman, and then headed out the door.

He walked slowly along the corridor, pondering the events of the day. Two attempts on his life in as many weeks, or so it felt. Time was beginning to lose its meaning for him with all the confusion and fear he’d been suffering. Was it that way for Potter, he wondered? Did the days just start to melt together as he worried if Voldemort was going to strike, combined with studies, exams, and worries about people he cared for? People like the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He felt a ripple of frustration and envy as he recalled how they’d burst into the infirmary, heading straight for their favorite professor. They hadn’t seen anything except their hero until Draco had spoken. Is that what it’s like when you care about someone? he wondered. Do you lose all sense of what’s around you, focusing only on the person in question and their safety, their health their well being? It didn’t sound pleasant. How could a person function like that? How could they live their own life if they were too busy being wrapped up in someone else’s?

Then he thought of Ginny Weasley, with her fiery red hair, flashing eyes, and sharp tongue. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be too difficult to get wrapped up in her. He paused at the top of the staircase leading to the Great Hall, staring thoughtfully down into the shadows. Ginny had been another distraction of late, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Every time he passed her in the corridors he felt an unsettling warmth rush through him. If he happened to look into her eyes, then the feeling was more like drowning. Hell, he was already wrapped up in her, considering how she seemed to commandeer the majority of his thoughts whether she was present or not! But he didn’t resent it, not really. She was beautiful, courageous, intelligent, funny, honest -- everything that was genuine. Everything he’d never thought a person could be, because he’d judged everyone by his father’s standard. Those who took power when it came their way were strong, and those kind and compassionate souls, like Dumbledore, were idiots. But he’d seen and experienced Ginny’s strength, her own brand of power. It was the power to charm a man with her soft eyes and honest wit, to wrap his soul around her fingers with a bold determination that had charged unflinchingly to his rescue. Was he being an idiot? What did he really know about her, after all? Did it matter?

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. Dumbledore had proven far from weak himself, and wasn’t the headmaster’s presence at Hogwarts the one thing that had kept Voldemort away? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the infirmary door open and close and the trio’s voices approaching the stairs. Draco backed away into the shadows, straining to hear what they were talking about.

“…doesn’t make sense,” Harry was saying. “Why would anyone want to kidnap Malfoy? His family’s right in with Voldemort.” Draco saw Ron cringe at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name. “It would be like crossing the Dark Lord himself! Lucius Malfoy would use every resource he has to get his son back, and it would more than likely start some kind of war between the Death Eaters.”

“I’m sure war is pretty common among that lot,” Hermione sniffed. “But I see what you mean. To the person starting all of this it would be a bad move, and more likely to get them on You-Know-Who’s bad side.”

“Maybe it’s someone trying to bring them down,” Ron said thoughtfully. “You know, on our side, but we don’t know about them.”

“If that’s the case, Weasley,” Malfoy drawled, “don’t you think Dumbledore would know about it?”

The trio stopped in shock as Draco stepped from the shadows, smiling coldly.

“What do you want?” Ron growled.

“Well, Weasley, I have an aversion to being plotted against so I thought I might grill someone who has any sort of information.” Not strictly true, but Draco thought he might as well take advantage of this opportunity.

“An aversion to being plotted against?” Harry laughed. “You’d better leave the school then, Malfoy, because there are probably a hundred plots against you being dreamed up on any given day!”

“Eat dung, Potter!” Draco glared. “I want to know what information you do have, because I don’t like the idea of being attacked by the undead and I know the three of you always have an ear to the ground.”

Ron grinned. “Try asking nicely Malfoy, and we’ll think about it.”

Draco squirmed inwardly. He should have known this would be nothing to them. Just because they had been talking about him didn’t mean they were actually concerned, it just meant they were puzzled. The reality was that they couldn’t care less if he was torn to pieces by a werewolf or drained dry by a vampire. They hated him almost as much as he’d always hated them, so what was the use of even asking? It sounded like he was begging them for information, and that was humiliating.

“Fine,” he said, turning on his heel and running down the stairs. He hadn’t gone more than a quarter of the way, however, when he heard Harry call to him.

“Malfoy, wait.” Harry ran down the steps behind him, and Draco turned in surprise. Of the three of them, he’d actually always thought that Hermione would be the one to offer him sympathy if he’d ever needed it. Not out of any liking for him, but because she was the one who stuck most rigidly to some kind of honor. But here was Potter, coming after him and looking at him with an almost grudging concern. It was a little bizarre. He narrowed his eyes as Harry regarded him and waited to see what the scarred moron had to say.

Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “We don’t know exactly what’s going on, but we know from Professor Lupin that a student at Hogwarts is rumored to be the target of a plot to find the weak spot of a traitor. But who the traitor is, and whom he betrayed, we don’t know. Dumbledore might, but if you knew him the way we do, then you’d know he isn’t joking when he says he’ll get back to you when he has more information.”

A traitor, Draco thought. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Use your brain, Malfoy,” Hermione said in exasperation as she walked up behind Harry. “Who is the only student that’s been overtly attacked so far? You! Obviously you’re someone’s weak link. The question is whose?”

“I know that Granger. That’s what I meant,” Draco snapped irritably.

“Your family has a lot of enemies,” Ron observed dryly as he also came over to them, “but can you think of anyone who hates your dad enough to risk the wrath of You-Know-Who?”

Draco stared at them. “No. Everyone who’s anyone associates my father with Voldemort’s favor.” Draco took a perverse pleasure in seeing Ron cringe again. “You’re right about our having a lot of enemies, but it would be the height of idiocy to attempt anything against me. Like you said, my dad would take care of it. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have too many friends that could be associated with me, making that whole ‘weak link’ argument pretty ridiculous.”

“Not really,” Harry said thoughtfully. “What if they’re talking about your father?”

Draco stared in stunned amazement at Harry. “All right, I think you must have gotten your brain knocked loose during the last Quidditch match! Why in the world would my father betray Voldemort? We owe him everything, or so he says every time he lectures me on why I have to join- .”

Draco abruptly fell silent, but it was too late. Now it was the trio’s turn to stare. Draco hadn’t meant for that last bit to slip out, but he couldn’t take it back now. Harry’s eyes narrowed and Ron frowned in confusion, suddenly blurting out, “What, you don’t want to?”

Draco couldn’t stop the flush that spread over his face. “Never mind,” he snapped. “Thanks for the information. See you around.”

Once again, Draco turned on his heel and ran, leaving Ron to mumble, “He’s nutters! Or maybe we are for telling him anything.”

Draco tuned out their voices, running down into the dungeons. He passed the Slytherin Prefect and didn’t hear the boy’s greeting because his head was buzzing with more questions than ever. Who on earth would want to kidnap him, especially for revenge? Voldemort was a master of revenge, and even if Draco were to be killed, he doubted his father would shed too many tears. There was too much that was dead in Lucius Malfoy to feel anything like real grief, even for the loss of his son. Draco knew this as clearly as if he’d been told it, and it was somewhat painful to realize that he wouldn’t be missed much, except by his mother. But he now knew that he felt just as little in the way of affection towards his father, so he didn’t try to pretend it bothered him. And Voldemort wouldn’t care too much either, in the end. Using his considerable influence and resources to do anything on Draco’s behalf would merely be a favor to his most valued follower, a favor Lucius would have to repay a hundred times over. It was always that way with the Dark Lord. He scratches your back, then you scratch, rub, sand down, and polish his. The mental image that thought conjured up made Draco chortle reflexively.

His smile disappeared a moment later, however, when he remembered that his life was in danger. Someone wanted to either kidnap or kill him. Perhaps both. His only hope now was to stay alert and rely on the headmaster’s protection, a thought that was almost repugnant to his haughty Malfoy nature.

The only thing worse would be to have to rely on Potter.

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 1 2003-05-13T09:16:00Z 2003-05-13T09:16:00Z 1 3561 20304 169 47 23818 10.2625 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 9

Remus Lupin sat on a stool in the dungeon, watching Snape sprinkle some dried substance into a bubbling cauldron. Remus had always been curious as to how Wolfsbane was made, but he could never follow the entire procedure. The potion list alone was long and complicated, and the process to make it took hours. Thank goodness Snape had already started a cauldron the night of the attack on Malfoy in preparation for his and Elizabeth’s arrival!

“It should be ready in another hour,” Snape murmured, measuring out some slimy substance that Remus preferred not to identify.

“Good,” Lupin replied. “Thank you Severus.”

Snape grunted, turning and entering his storeroom. Lupin stayed seated, wondering how to phrase his next question without starting a fight. Snape had deliberately caused the delay in Germany that had made Remus and Elizabeth’s return to England almost impossible, and the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wanted to know why. He refused to put it down to childish spite, though Severus wasn’t above that. Thanks to the delay, Remus had missed seeing Sirius when he’d made a brief stop in England. They had planned to discuss a strategy for tackling a nest of rogue vampires that was rumored to be in Wales, and Remus had been forced instead to beg the Wizarding Customs Office to send an owl to England and inform everyone of what he’d learned in Romania. Now they had vampires attacking students on the grounds of Hogwarts and Remus had no doubt that they were part of the rogue group. Several Aurors had been combing Wales for weeks now, but were no closer to finding anything. It was frustrating, and Remus ultimately blamed Snape. He knew his own compulsion to ask was itself rather childish, but he really wanted to know why, after all these years and everything that had happened, Severus was still more than willing to cause trouble between them all -- trouble that cost them in more ways than one.

But he had to be careful. Snape would be more than ready to start an argument about it, and Remus knew he would jump for the bait himself in his state.

Snape came out of the storeroom and paused when he spied Remus still sitting at his desk. “Is there anything else?” he asked forcefully.

“I want to know…that is, I was curious as to why you chose to inform the German Ministry about mine and Elizabeth’s conditions. The delay-“

“Was hardly long, Remus.” The Potions Master rolled his eyes. “I’m so terribly sorry if you think I acted foolishly, but I was concerned that your…personal feelings might have been clouding your judgment in regard to the woman.”

Lupin’s eyes narrowed. “Her name is Elizabeth, and you know nothing about her! She is as dedicated to eradicating Voldemort as you or I, and you have no reason to question her loyalty!”

The professor smirked, making Remus long to throw the bubbling cauldron at him. “I have every reason to question her loyalty. I have reason to question her character as well. Do you know her history, Remus?”

Lupin scowled, his face flushing and his hands clenching tightly. “That has nothing to do with what’s happening now.”

“I disagree,” Snape replied cheerfully. “You go out on one of your scouting missions for Dumbledore and just happen to meet a beautiful woman named Elizabeth Morgan. Did she tell you right away that she was kin to Augustus Rookwood? Or did you find out yourself, and have a nasty confrontation?”

Remus glared at the Potions Master and heartily wished he would fall dead. “That doesn’t matter! She has renounced all ties with her family, and she’s a caring, giving person.”

“Renounced her ties?” Severus put a jar of clabbert livers on the desk and brought his face close to Lupin’s. “Or was she disowned for being a monster?”

Only Lupin’s strong self-control stopped him from belting the Potions Master right upon his hooked nose. Snape chuckled when Remus didn’t answer and turned away.

“You can think what you like, Severus,” Lupin growled, “but Elizabeth is no supporter of Voldemort’s. I know her; she wants him destroyed as much as any of us. She helped us save your student; would she have done that if she was working for Voldemort?”

Snape frowned. “We don’t know who is after Mr. Malfoy at this point, so try again.”

But Lupin was not about to waste any more time trying to convince the Potions Master of Elizabeth’s sincerity. He glared at the ground and stood. “The Auror from the Ministry is with the prisoner at this moment, and we’re to meet Albus there at seven. Don’t be late.”

Remus turned on his heel and stalked out, willing himself to stay calm as Snape’s mocking laughter followed him out of the dungeon.

***************

“See how far you can throw it!” Harry shouted to Ron, running backwards to avoid being hit by the snowball in Ron’s hand. Seamus and Dean laughed as they packed more snowballs beside them, and Ginny smiled from the sidelines and shook her head. No matter what their ages, boys would be boys!

There were snowball fights going on all around as Ginny, Hermione, Cho, and Susan watched and attempted to do some extra studying at the same time. The studying wasn’t going too well, as they were too distracted and amused by the boys’ play. Ginny found herself seated between Susan and Cho, and wished she could get up and move without looking like a complete bitch. Although the pain was not nearly what it had once been, it still made Ginny slightly ill to see Cho smile and wave at Harry, and to see him grin widely back at her.

She turned away and tried to continue reading Magical Drafts and Potions, Grade 6. She was having trouble with her Glorifam Mix, a particularly powerful potion that left the person ingesting it without a trace of fear. They would charge headlong toward a fully grown dragon and try to fight it, or stand at the edge of a cliff and leap into a lake of water below, all with their reason still intact. They simply ceased to be afraid of doing these things. Obviously a person could put themselves into a horrible amount of danger after ingestion, so use of the potion was strictly controlled. She already had the antidote down perfectly. But Snape was not testing the antidotes until after he tested the Mix itself, and she had a nasty feeling that she would end up killing her hamster, Mr. Noodle, if she wasn’t careful. They would be testing out their potions on their pets, as usual, and Ginny only hoped that none of them died. It would be just like Snape to devise nasty and dangerous obstacles or enemies for their pets to take on. She just hoped Mr. Noodle wasn’t pitted against a snake or something similar.

The ingredients required must be stewed carefully, the dry text read. It is important to remember that the powdered unicorn horn must not be added to the snake eyes for five minutes after boiling begins!

Perhaps that’s where she kept going wrong. She was passing Potions, but just barely. And being a Gryffindor didn’t help her chances for leniency in Snape’s class. He still lived to take points from Gryffindor, and Ginny was certain that everyone who got a failing mark would receive another five points just for spite. Snape was evil that way.

“Uh-oh,” Susan suddenly murmured, “trouble approaches on stealthy legs. And they belong to Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe!”

Ginny froze for a moment, then casually looked over at the well-worn path from the castle. The Slytherin trio was indeed approaching, and seemed to be heading for the copse of trees nearest the lake. Crabbe and Goyle were casting envious looks at the various snowball fights occurring all around, but they loyally continued to march behind their leader. Draco seemed lost in thought, frowning at the ground in front of him and seeming not to see anything. Even when a snowball passed right in front of him, narrowly missing his nose, he only blinked and kept walking. Ginny’s heart contracted, and she found herself wanting to touch his face and ask what was wrong. She hurriedly dropped her gaze, her face burning. She had to get over this concern for him, and stop looking at him as if he hadn’t been a cruel, malicious, and hateful person the entire time she’d known him.

He’s been through a lot, a voice in her mind said. He’s capable of fear and laughter, as well as everything you’ve known.

Yes, that was true. She still remembered his silly laugh, and blushed when she recalled his flushed and tear-streaked face, rendered even more beautiful by an easy and careless smile.

“Gin,” Susan touched her shoulder, looking at her with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes Susan, I’m sorry.” Ginny plastered a smile on her face at once. “I’m just worried I won’t get this potion right and Mr. Noodles will be dead from charging into one of the cauldron fires!”

Ginny should have known that wasn’t going to work. Susan continued to look closely at her, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been really distracted lately,” Susan said quietly. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Ginny tried not to fidget. “Nothing’s going on, and I’m fine. Really, I am. There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

“I can see that,” Susan replied. “You hardly ever talk to me any more.”

Ginny stared at her friend, taken aback. “What are you talking about? We’re always together Susan.”

“Yes, we sit together and study together and go to Hogsmeade together, but you haven’t really talked to me in weeks. Something’s bothering you and you’ve shut me out!”

“Susan…I…I’m sorry!” Ginny frowned, furious with herself. She hugged her friend and felt tears sting her eyes.

“Let’s go someplace quiet to talk,” Susan whispered. “I’ll tell Seamus.”

“All right,” Ginny agreed, closing her book. Making their excuses, she and Susan began to wander towards the lake, to the spot where they’d carved pumpkins together back in October. Almost three months ago, Ginny mused. So much had happened in that time, and to Ginny it felt like years had passed. Christmas was a week away, and Susan would be leaving to spend the holidays with her parents, as usual. She and Ginny would have their own private gift exchange a few days before, sharing tea and cocoa with crumpets and tearing open the gifts they’d gotten each other. Ginny raised her hand and stared at a delicate gold bracelet that had been Susan’s gift to her last year. It had a thin, gold, heart shaped charm that had their initials inscribed upon it -- G.W. and S.D -- beneath which read “Friends Forever”. She felt a stab of guilt, realizing that she’d been so caught up in her roiling emotions about Draco and angry musings about the Trio that she’d forgotten she had a friend. And at that moment, Ginny felt very unworthy of her friend’s gift.

Ginny stared at the clouds as they walked, wondering at how they could be so gray, yet so bright. The wind coming off the lake was cold and brisk, but she and Susan had always laughed when it blew past them, loving the sensation of cold friction and freedom, even if they were practically frozen when they went inside. It drew a smile from Ginny even now. The thick clouds were almost dazzling in their leaden tones, and Ginny was fascinated by the seeming paradox. Like Draco’s eyes, she thought absently, then shook her head slightly. There it was again, another thought of him intruding on her peace when she ought to be thinking about those who cared about her! She exhaled impatiently, determined to think about how badly she’d been neglecting Susan and nothing else.

“Come on, Gin,” Susan took Ginny’s arm and led her to an empty spot under two bare trees. When they sat down, Susan forced Ginny to face her.

“What’s going on, Gin?” she asked in a low, worried voice. “You’ve withdrawn from me, from almost everybody. Even Harry’s noticed, and I didn’t think anything could get his attention away from Cho! Something’s eating away at your heart, I know it! Please, talk to me!”

“No,” Ginny smiled, “I’m not going to talk to you, but with you. I’ve been neglecting you, and so we’re going to catch up!”

Susan started to protest, but Ginny grabbed her hand and began toying with the slim gold ring crowned with a sapphire that she was wearing. “This is so beautiful!” Ginny whispered. “I’ll bet you were speechless even though you knew that he was getting you a ring.”

Susan smiled tenderly. “Yes, I was. He’d already picked it out, and he just took me to pick it up. When I concentrate on the stone I see his face in my mind, and he knows I’m thinking of him. Though we shouldn’t need a ring for that! He’d owled mum months ago for my ring size. She and dad are ecstatic.” Then Susan glared at her friend. “Nice move, Weasley, redirecting me like that!”

Ginny laughed. “It’s good to have a skill. And I’m a master of that particular one.”

“Too true,” Susan said, scowling. “Now you have to at least tell me why you’ve been so moody lately. It’s had me worried. Is it because of the attack? I know something like that can change a person, but please don’t let it take you from me!”

Ginny stared at her friend. How could she tell her? How could she tell anyone if she couldn’t tell Susan? She felt her mixed emotions tugging on her heart, and for a moment wished heartily that she could perform a memory charm on herself. She wanted to forget the last few weeks. Hell, she wanted to start the whole year over!

“It’s not going to, Susan!” she said finally. “And it isn’t that. It’s all the damn weirdness going on lately. An explosion, a werewolf, and an attack of vampires. What’s next, a Pixie rebellion?” Ginny tried to laugh, but only managed a weak chuckle. Susan smiled reassuringly.

“It’s been an awful lot, hasn’t it? But we’ve weathered a lot more. Remember the attacks on Muggle born students, Sirius Black on the loose, and Lord Voldemort’s rise? We’ll get through this, Ginny, we’ll be fine. Besides,” she smiled mischievously here, “it seems to all be focusing on Malfoy, and he could do with a bit of scaring, if you ask me.”

Ginny frowned. “Don’t say that!” Susan turned in surprise, and Ginny softened her tone. “I’m sorry, but I feel badly for him. He’s…he’s been through a lot lately.”

Susan shook her head. “Only you could still feel compassion for a bleedin’ arse like Malfoy!”

“Good afternoon, ladies!” a voice suddenly cried, making them jump. The girls turned to find Caleb Anderson, a Slytherin sixth year and the Quidditch announcer, walking towards them. Susan scowled.

“What do you want, Anderson?” she snapped.

“What’s this? You suspect me of an ulterior motive? You wound me, Miss Dresh!” Caleb drawled smoothly, and Ginny was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to kick him. She settled for rolling her eyes.

“Mr. Anderson,” she said in a mock severe voice, “it has never been proven that Slytherins always have an ulterior motive. But it’s also said that they don’t waste their time with small matters. So what do you want?”

“Well said, Miss Weasley.” Caleb grinned, leaning back with an impressed air. “It’s also said that Gryffindors don’t mince words, and you prove that point rather nicely!”

Susan snorted. “As do you. Now what can we help you with?”

“Help me? I need no help, Miss Dresh,” Caleb replied cheerily, suddenly dropping to the ground beside them.

“That’s what you think!” Susan muttered, shifting away from the handsome young Slytherin as he sat. Ginny definitely had to concentrate on holding back her laughter. She actually liked Caleb, as he was different from most Slytherins. He had an open, humorous manner that charmed everyone he came into contact with. She’d actually seen him make Harry laugh on one occasion, as he was joking with others on the grounds. Of course, Harry had quickly made some excuse and left -- probably high tailing it back to the Gryffindor common room so he could forget he’d actually joked with a Slytherin, she thought. Caleb hadn’t minded; he’d continued to talk and laugh with whoever was around. Unlike others of his house, he didn’t only associate with Slytherins, seeming to prefer constant attention and laughter from whomever he saw, which made her wonder why the Sorting Hat had put him there in the first place. He had the manner and attitude of a showman, always talking, joking, and gesturing dramatically. He could be a theater actor, Ginny thought. He would certainly garner a great deal of attention, with his long black hair and clear blue eyes. This wasn’t to say that Caleb wasn’t an irritating and sarcastic git at times -- he was. He could be as infuriating as he was funny, and it knocked many people off balance. Ginny strongly suspected that he liked it that way.

“Then you were merely stopping by to say hello?” Ginny’s smile was sweet, and her eyes held a humorous twinkle. “How thoughtful of you. I’ll have to mark this day on my calendar.”

“No need to do that.” Caleb laughed, suddenly grabbing a hand from both Susan and Ginny. “A charming fellow is always on the lookout for lovely ladies to compliment and entertain.”

Susan yanked her hand away. “If you don’t mind!”

“Oh, turning down the affection of a Slytherin -- why? Who says that all must be enmity between the Lions and the Serpents?” Caleb’s voice grew dramatic, and he raised his hand to touch his forehead. “For all these long eons-”

“Centuries,” Ginny corrected.

“Yes, that. For all this time our houses have been divided by an ethereal competitiveness that defies logic! And so the story has gone, from father to son, mother to daughter, and so on…”

“What is your point?” Susan asked impatiently.

“I don’t have one!” He grinned devilishly, and Ginny couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped her, which caused Susan to glare at them both.

“Sorry.” Ginny smiled at her friend, then looked at Caleb. “Well, my fine fellow, if you’re finished with today’s entertainment, Susan and I were having a serious discussion—“

“Were you?” Caleb cried. “Oh good. I haven’t been entertained yet.”

“And you won’t be now!” Susan cried indignantly.

“Oh, but I can give gossip as well as get it! For instance, did you know that Pansy Parkinson has been in a snit all week because-“ He looked around suspiciously, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “rumor has it that Mr. Malfoy has given her the Heave Ho, right on her non-existent bum!”

Ginny’s heart tripped at Caleb’s words, and she felt her face flush slightly. Draco had officially broken up with Pansy? Why would he do that when just a few days ago he was willing to endure her endless chatter and pointless gossip? Of course, he’d been attacked again not an hour later. Perhaps all this danger was forcing him to reevaluate his life? She felt her soul begin to swell with something like hope, and had to force her mind back on Caleb and Susan to banish it.

Susan raised an eyebrow. “Really? Oh, the tragedy.”

“And then,” Caleb said even more quietly, darting a look towards Draco who was standing a distance away from them, looking out over the water, “the news comes down that he’s been cut from the Quidditch team! Halford thinks we need fresh blood to take on your lot.”

Ginny gasped, and even Susan looked shocked. Draco cut from the Quidditch team? Draco, whose father had purchased six new Nimbus 2001 brooms to get him on to the team in the first place? Ginny looked over to where he stood alone, Crabbe and Goyle having joined in one of the various snowball wars. Draco’s back was to her, making it difficult to judge his mood. But she could tell it was bad by the stiffness of his posture and his absolute stillness. What is he thinking of now, she wondered, her heart suddenly aching for him. She knew he loved Quidditch as much as Harry or Ron did, any fool could see that. And he was an excellent Seeker; why would the Slytherins cut him from the team?

“Who are they going to replace him with?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“Ha! See, Miss Dresh? My news is of great interest. I don’t know yet, Miss Weasley. Although,” Caleb’s smile abruptly dropped as he looked towards Draco’s still figure, “I personally think it was a huge mistake. Malfoy is the best Seeker Slytherin’s had in some years. Oh, we beat everyone well enough before your Mr. Potter came along, but Draco is talented. Potter’s the only one who can get past him, and that’s actually a compliment!”

“Yes it is,” Susan murmured, watching Ginny closely.

“Well ladies, no time to dilly-dally,” Caleb said suddenly. “What say we all head for Hogsmeade? You can be my dates!”

Susan stared at him in amazement. “Are you mad?” she blurted.

“No actually, I’m quite serious.” He grinned. His roguish charm failed to sway Susan, however.

“Oh well,” he shrugged, then turned his charm on Ginny. “Then it’s just you and me, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny opened her mouth to refuse, but at that moment a shadow fell across the grass. Ginny looked up to see Seamus standing over them, looking quite irritable.

“What are you doing here, Anderson?” he growled, making Ginny shiver. Seamus was no longer the small boy he’d once been. He stood an inch over six feet, and had filled out rather nicely. His short sandy hair glinted with highlights even in the gloomy winter light, and his green eyes could sparkle with laughter or burn holes with his anger. They were definitely burning now!

Caleb, however, didn’t seem at all ruffled. “Making conversation with the ladies,” he replied as though it should be obvious. “How about yourself?”

“Humph,” Seamus grunted, doubting him. “I came to ask Susan if she’d like to take a walk with me to—“

He stopped abruptly, his eyes moving shyly to his girlfriend. Susan’s eyes lit up in return, and a smile played upon her lips. Then she looked at Ginny with wide eyes. Susan didn’t want to leave Ginny alone with Caleb, which would be awful as far as Susan was concerned. Ginny guessed her thoughts at once and laughed.

“Go on, then.” She grinned. “It’s too cold a day to be alone.”

“Indeed it is,” Caleb agreed with an impish grin at Ginny.

Susan looked anxiously at her friend, then glared at Caleb. “Are you sure? We haven’t really talked much today…”

“We can talk tomorrow.” Ginny smiled, then looked fondly at Seamus. “Go on! Your gentleman waits!”

Susan smiled gratefully and hugged Ginny. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she stood, and the young couple was gone in a heartbeat. Ginny sighed, feeling envious of her friend’s happiness. Harry was out of reach, but that was bothering her less and less as the months passed. Then there was Draco…

Her stomach clenched as she thought of her feelings for him. It was ridiculous that she could be in love with him, utterly impossible. And yet he was always with her, walking through the shadows of her mind no matter how hard she tried to banish him.

“Sickle for your thoughts,” Caleb said softly. Ginny started, having forgotten he was there. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but his easy grin made her smile.

“Well, Mr. Anderson, thank you for the gossip and conversation, but I have to go now,” Ginny said, standing. He stood as well.

“I think not, Miss Weasley. You owe me a trip to Hogsmeade, and I intend to collect!”

“I owe you?” Ginny asked incredulously. “How in the world do I owe you a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Never mind the details,” he said airily, grabbing her hand and tucking it under his arm. “Let us go and wander the cobbled streets of that fair wizarding town. I’ll buy you lunch, and then we can stop at Dervish and Banges for a bit of afternoon shopping. I myself am in dire need of a Lunascope. Astronomy is my worst subject, you know.”

Ginny laughed; she couldn’t help it. Caleb’s brazen self-assuredness was charming, in its own way. And his humor was infectious. She stared at him while he continued his chatter about all they would do once they arrived in town. Before she knew it, they were on their way.

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 1 2003-05-13T09:18:00Z 2003-05-13T09:18:00Z 1 4848 27634 230 64 32418 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 10

Draco stared out over the water, trying to empty his mind of the events of the last week. He’d been attacked, almost kidnapped, cut from the Quidditch team, and had had a verbal confrontation with his father that was pointless and enraging. What more could possibly happen? He had a feeling that if things got any worse he’d fall dead from the stress alone!

His muscles ached with stiffness and his stomach burned. Madam Pomfrey had told him that he was developing an ulcer and he needed to relax. How in Agrippa’s name was he supposed to relax when he was trying to fight off werewolves, vampires, and his father all at the same time? The nurse was mixing a curative for him and had told him to return in an hour, and as he rubbed his middle absently he silently willed her to hurry up.

He blinked as a shout of laughter broke in on his thoughts, but he quickly regained himself and tuned out the sound. He really should leave this spot; go to his room or someplace quiet. But he didn’t know of any quiet or secluded place on the grounds because he’d never needed one before, and he didn’t want to be alone in his room at the moment. Memories of the previous night still burned like fire in his brain, even though they were vague and half formed. It was so strange to think he was capable of such mindless rage, such horrific destruction. It made him think of ancient barbarians entering their battle frenzies. What was the term? He wondered. Then he remembered: Berserk.

Earlier in the week, his father had arrived to see that Draco was safe, which had surprised Draco to no end -- especially seeing how Lucius had seen fit to drop a Freezing Menace on his son only that Monday. Draco’s face burned and his heart squeezed painfully as he remembered how the first day of the week had gone…

The green envelope had arrived by special owl delivery right to the common room door. He hadn’t known what it was initially. But he’d accepted the envelope and examined it curiously. It had his name and house on it, but no other identifying marks. Flipping it over, he saw that the wax seal was from a post in London. Slipping his thumb beneath the wax, he’d been about to break it when Frieda Lawson’s voice had rang across the room.

“A Freezing Menace,” she’d exclaimed excitedly. “Who sent it to you? Is it from your father?”

Draco had frowned at her, but hadn’t wanted to appear ignorant. So he’d fished his way through his reply.

“My father would send me a…Freezing Menace only if he thought I needed one. Do you think I need one, Frieda?”

The dark haired, horse-faced girl had smiled then, and something about that smile set Draco’s nerves on edge. “Do you know what that is, Malfoy? I don’t think you do, so why don’t you open it for us?”

Draco might have allowed himself to be goaded into it, but the obvious excitement in Lawson’s eyes made him uneasy. He decided his room would be a much better place. He’d carefully slid his thumb from beneath the wax seal and pocketed the envelope, tossing a careless smile to Frieda as he walked towards the stairs.

“I think I’ll keep this particular treat to myself. I do so love leaving you breathless!”

His parting comment had surprised the silly girl so much her beady eyes had nearly popped from her head, which had made him smile with cold delight. But his smile faded once he reached his dorm. Crabbe and Goyle were just about to exit for the common room, and Draco tersely commanded them to meet him in the Great Hall. Once they were gone, he removed the envelope from his pocket and studied it again.

Except for the emerald green color, it was unremarkable. It was addressed in gold ink, directly to him:

Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Who could have sent him this? What was it? Remembering Lawson’s reaction, Draco was wary of opening it. He pulled out his wand and passed it over the envelope. He knew many detection spells and tried six of them. Five of them didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary, but the last spell seemed to freeze up. Instead of his wand giving off a soft green light to indicate that all was well, it gave off a white light. Draco stared, feeling a chill. That had never happened before!

If an explosive or other booby trap was detected, his wand was set to give off a red warning light. If the object was safe, then his wand would flash green. Never before had it flashed a white light with this particular spell, and Draco had no idea what that meant. He was too familiar with the consequences of dark spells to rashly open the envelope now, but his curiosity was overwhelming him.

He thought of Lawson’s reaction. She had been excited, anticipating something eagerly, so he didn’t think it was life threatening. But he had to be sure.

There was one more spell he thought to try. It was a Sender Detector, and allowed the spell caster to vaguely identify the person who had sent the object. If that person was unknown to you, you could at least buy time in deciding whether or not to open the package. He passed his wand over the envelope, murmuring the incantation and watching apprehensively for the result. After a moment, a tiny, smoky tendril rose from the envelope and formed itself into the Malfoy family crest. Draco nearly dropped the envelope in surprise.

“Finite Incantatum!” he whispered, and the tiny replica disappeared.

His father had sent it, it was the only explanation. Slowly, Draco slipped his thumb beneath the wax seal and broke it open. Immediately a green smoke billowed out, surrounding Draco. It had a strange, sweet smell, like warm honey and clover. He felt a heavy lethargy steal into his limbs, and his eyelids grew heavy. He tried to stand, thinking wildly that his father was trying to poison him, but he only managed to stumble forward and land on the floor, face first. He struggled to sit up, feeling an icy numbness creeping into his limbs, and managed to push himself against his bed for support. All the while, the thick green smoke swirled around him. Then his eyes unfocused and he heard his father’s voice began to whisper in his mind.

“Boy, when I tell you to do something I expect it to be done immediately and without question! I do not tolerate defiance from anyone and I’ll bloody well not tolerate it from my own son!”

Draco thought he might be going mad. Lucius’s voice was as clear as if he was speaking directly into Draco’s thoughts, soft but menacing and filled with an icy fury.

“I have been informed that you are refusing to cooperate as far as Miss Parkinson is concerned, and you are risking my best liaison to the Ministry itself. I’ll not have it! Her family is essential to my plans for you and our continuing expansion of power, and if you think I have any intention of allowing you to ruin that, you are sadly mistaken!”

Draco felt his lungs struggle with the effort to breathe through the icy cold that was enveloping him. He could see that his misted breath was tinged with green, and his heart hammered in fear.

“How dare you do this to me? That Parkinson girl is no different from any other idiotic gold digger, and if you don’t like her you can bloody well learn to buy your pleasure as I do! I have already sent an owl to Snape with orders to pull you from the damn Quidditch team, and if you don’t learn to conform to my plans I will make you sorry you were ever born to disgrace my existence!”

The last words of his father echoed thunderously through his head, and Draco feared his skull might actually split open. But as the echoes died away, the numbing cold very quickly receded from his body, leaving Draco gasping and shaking weakly against the mattress. Even now, days later, the memory caused cold sweat to break out over him, the words “born to disgrace my existence” echoing in his mind and causing his hands to clench around his lower arms. He stared grimly, unseeingly out over the lake, unaware that Ginny Weasley was observing him. His face set painfully as he recalled struggling to regain feeling in his legs. When he had been able to stand, he’d run to the bathroom, splashing water on his face and retreating into one of the stalls. Fear had subsided fairly quickly to be replaced by anger, humiliation, and pain. So this was what a Freezing Menace was -- a more fearful and insidious type of Howler. Draco had sat in the bathroom stall for hours, not budging until Crabbe and Goyle had come looking for him. The same thoughts had whirled through his mind again and again. When have I ever done anything right for you? When was I ever good enough, or smart enough, to make you proud? When have you ever looked at me and just loved me?

No one had mentioned the Freezing Menace except Lawson, during lunch when Draco finally came out of the bathroom with Crabbe and Goyle. She’d had a knowing and malicious smile on her face, and Draco felt his emotions boil into a murderous rage. Turning fully to face her, he’d calmly asked if she’d like him to demonstrate the effects for her. She turned her face haughtily away, but didn’t pursue the subject.

Pansy had displayed good sense and avoided him. Draco would have been happy to leave it at that, except for what happened the next morning…

He’d raced out of the common room Tuesday morning, telling Crabbe and Goyle he’d meet them in the Great Hall. He didn’t want to be around if another green envelope arrived, and hopefully it would explode on its own before it could get to him. No sooner had he sat down to scrambled eggs and sausage, however, when Snape appeared at his elbow.

“Mr. Malfoy, please come with me,” Snape had said quietly. Draco had risen, a puzzled look on his face, and followed the Potions Master back to the stairs leading down to the dungeons. Draco had wondered what Snape would want with him, and had grown steadily more nervous as they’d descended past moving tapestries of sour faced wizards wearing robes of black and green, and paintings of witches who appeared almost ghastly as the gloom deepened. Draco had felt a chill wrack his frame that wasn’t entirely due to the falling temperature of his surroundings. He suddenly remembered what his father had said about sending an owl to Snape. He’d wanted to halt the Potions Master then, but his voice refused to work. He’d wanted to stop walking, but his numb legs somehow seemed charmed to keep moving forward. Snape hadn’t stopped until they arrived at his office, and as he closed the door, Draco had known beyond a shadow of a doubt what was coming.

Snape had looked at him, a look of pity combined with a strange understanding. He began speaking slowly.

“Your father sent me an owl, and it concerned your place on the Quidditch team.”

“You’re cutting me out,” Draco had stated with a quiet finality. Snape had nodded, not bothering to hide the matter.

“He says he fears your studies are suffering, and wishes to pull you so you can concentrate on your schoolwork,” Snape replied, lips twisting with disapproval.

“That’s not it,” Draco had said numbly, “I’m being punished.”

Snape had once more nodded, giving Draco a knowing look through narrow eyes. Draco had stared at the Potion Master’s desk in an effort to fight off the feeling that he was going to vomit, and had noticed burns in the old wood. Wonder how long those have been there? He’d thought.

“Why are you letting him cut me?” Draco asked after a moment. “Can’t you tell him I’m an important part of the team?”

“I already tried, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape almost smiled. “I received the owl from your father early yesterday morning, and sent off my reply by express owl. He wasn’t pleased by my contradicting his wishes, and as your parent he does have final say on whether or not you can play. I’m sorry.”

Draco had nodded and quickly left the professor’s office. He’d returned to the Great Hall to find Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces.

“Where were youf Dracob?” Crabbe asked, his mouth full of food. Draco glared.

“Kindly wait until you’ve swallowed before speaking to me!”

Draco had spent the whole of that morning in a daze, his anger boiling beneath a thin sheet of numbness. During Transfiguration, as he took notes on Animagi and their various methods of transforming, he’d happened to glance over and noticed Potter whispering conspiratorially to Granger and Weasley. What now? he’d wondered angrily. Did they perhaps know what Dumbledore had found out from that blasted Vampire? Dumbledore had yet to summon Draco for any reason, and he’d felt his numbness burn away as he stared at the Trio. Was it too much to ask that he be told anything that might make it easier to understand why he’d been attacked? Were they too damn good to share what information impacted him directly? Did they not give a damn about his life? He’d actually understand if they didn’t, but hadn’t they promised to share information?

Actually they hadn’t, and Draco’s fury boiled even hotter. He’d spent the rest of the class staring at his parchment, hearing and seeing nothing around him.

Afterwards, on the way to lunch, Draco had spotted Pansy with a group of Slytherin girls. She was the center of attention, giggling, chattering, and otherwise making an arse of herself, as far as Draco was concerned. He’d approached the group with a smile, thinking that he could at least settle one score.

“Draco,” Pansy had simpered, “how lovely to see you.”

Her idiocy never failed to awe him.

“May I speak with you alone, Pansy?” he’d asked, giving his most charming smile. Pansy had blushed. “Of course!”

What had followed had perhaps been unnecessarily cruel, but it had nevertheless been well deserved. Draco smiled coldly out at the lake’s calm waters as he remembered. Sometimes in life, you can make wickedly satisfying memories…

Pansy had smiled as he led her outdoors to a small sitting area just off the entrance to the school. Not many students were outside, as lunch was being served, so Draco had been assured of acceptable privacy.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Pansy had curtsied slightly, giggling flirtatiously. Draco had dropped his smile then and allowed his anger to surface.

“You can drop dead for all I care,” he’d growled, almost snarling at her. “You got your wish, Pansy. I’ve been cut from the team!”

Pansy had suddenly gone pale, her smile disappearing so fast it looked like it had been ripped away. She immediately began to give excuses, saying she hadn’t realized what would happen. Draco had laughed in her face.

“You were very aware that my father would make me sorry, but I believe you’re telling the truth about this. You never have used your brain for anything more useful than absorbing the latest fashion tricks. Which is about all you ever talk about, really!”

“Draco, how can you say that to me?” She’d suddenly started crying. “I’ll owl your father, I’ll tell him I was wrong…“

“Yes you were, but it’s too late for that,” Draco interrupted, feeling a vicious pleasure at the sight of Pansy’s tears. “Actually, you weren’t wrong. I really can’t stand you, Pansy. Now do me the favor of staying as far away from me as possible!”

Pansy had let out a screech at his statement and pulled on his robes to keep him from walking away. Draco had continued laughing, yanking away from her while she continued to protest with her inane excuses. He’d finally halted her for good when he’d turned, brought his face very close to hers, and ground out, “I hate you! I always have, and I want nothing to do with you!”

He’d felt slightly better about things after that, but nothing could have prepared him for the next day…

Lucius Malfoy had arrived just before lunch at Hogwarts, while Draco had been in Care of Magical Creatures. He’d been quite glad to leave, since Hagrid had obtained several Occamy and one had started laying a clutch of eggs right in the middle of the lesson. The state of its distress before had caused it to try and bite whoever had gone near any of its three heads, but after the first egg had appeared it actually started slithering after the group that was studying it. Hagrid had donned a dragonhide glove and captured the three headed snake before it got too out of control, but its hisses had gotten louder, and it was obvious that it was about to expel another egg. If the message informing him of his father’s arrival hadn’t come when it did, he might have chosen to skip the rest of the lesson regardless.

He’d been summoned to Snape’s office, and the memory of Monday morning made his stomach begin burning. Draco hadn’t looked at his father at first, because no matter how angry he was, he was always intimidated by Lucius. It had always been that way. And the intimidation had made him try harder to please, yet it was difficult to try too hard at anything when it was obvious that Lucius didn’t notice his accomplishments. His failures were all that mattered, and how badly they reflected on the Malfoy name.

Snape had discreetly left the room, and Lucius had looked closely at his son.

“Are you eating? You seem to have lost weight.”

Draco looked up at this, and found his eyes locking with his father’s. “I’m fine,” he’d replied softly.

“Well, I had to see for myself. Your mother’s ready to tear out her perfect coif over this, but you haven’t been harmed, have you?”

“No, I’m all right,” Draco had repeated, wondering what to say. His father had made the long trip to Hogwarts to see if he was all right, and despite Draco’s decision to stop allowing his father to plan his life, he still felt grateful and a bit giddy that he’d come. Perhaps Lucius had found out what was going on.

“Do you know who’s behind this, father?” Draco had asked. “I can’t imagine why anyone would cross you this way, it’s mad!”

“As to that, I haven’t found out. But we have many enemies, many who would do much to prove I’m weak. You’re safe here, however. Dumbledore has assured me that more protective wards have been placed upon the grounds as well as inside the school. And the Ministry’s hard at work looking for that nest of Vampires—“

“What nest of Vampires?” Draco frowned.

“The one rumored to be lurking in Wales,” his father had said, raising his eyebrows and staring off into space. “My informants knew about them weeks ago, of course.”

“You knew about them but you said nothing?” Draco had asked after a moment of shock, trying not to sound angry. Lucius had turned to his son coldly.

“They had many tasks from many people set before them, and their allegiances are always questionable. I didn’t know you were a target for anything, Draco, so no, I said nothing. But then,” he’d smiled icily, “why would I?”

Draco had struggled to keep his expression unreadable. The burning in his stomach had increased, and he’d felt his throat close at his father’s words. They made perfect sense. Why would Lucius Malfoy feel it necessary to inform the Ministry about a nest of Vampires, especially since they were most likely working for him? For the first time in his life, Draco had seen the danger of the path his father walked; how easy it can be to turn from hunter to prey. As he stared at his father, Draco felt a growing pressure building in his chest.

“What about….your Patron?” he’d asked carefully. Lucius’s gaze had flown back to Draco instantly.

“He has other matters to deal with at the moment,” Lucius had snapped. “Things are being looked into, boy. Stop your whining!”

The pressure in his chest had increased at these words. Stop whining? Oh, certainly father, it’s only my life! But that’s not as important as your secrets, is it? It had cost Draco dearly to keep his expression impassive, but he reckoned that he’d succeeded well enough. Lucius had then turned to other matters.

“So, have you had enough of being thrown off of the team?” he’d asked almost cheerfully, making Draco’s heart twist.

“I’ve already been replaced,” he’d replied woodenly.

Lucius had waved a hand airily. “They’ll take you back, boy, and you know it. Most talented Seeker Slytherin House has had in many a year, and that’s saying something. Of course,” Lucius’s voice had dropped a few degrees here, “it seems that Gryffindor’s Seeker still has one over you.”

Draco had looked directly at his father then. “Not anymore.”

Lucius’s eyes had narrowed and Draco had felt a grim stab of satisfaction, knowing he’d poked his father’s reason. But then his father had leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“If you want to play again, you can. Just stop this stupidity about the Parkinson girl. She might not be the best looking choice, but there are plenty worse.”

Draco had suddenly felt lightheaded as he returned his father’s stare. Start courting Pansy again and he could play Quidditch. It was that simple.

“But why should I care about her looks, father? She’s rich, well connected, and a pureblood too.”

Lucius was too much an expert at sarcasm himself not to recognize it when it was being directed at him. He’d scowled at his son, his pale face flushing.

“I do not tolerate defiance, my boy,” he’d growled. “I was hoping to teach you a lesson about life. Sometimes you have to compromise to get what you want!”

Compromise, that was all. Just court Pansy, accept her back, deal with her stupidity and inane babble, and he would be able to play Quidditch again, something he loved and already missed. He’d allowed his thoughts to drift back to Tuesday evening, when he’d snuck into the Pitch to watch the new Seeker, Phillip O’Brien, being trained. The boy was good for a Fourth year, but needed to work on his mid air turns. Draco had watched until his vision had blurred, then he’d run to the far side of the lake. His tears had been hot, his sobs had wracked his frame, and the pain had been unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. It was then that he’d realized that he’d never loved anything before, except his mother. And to have it so cruelly snatched away because he’d refused to subject himself to the misery of Pansy’s company made his temper flare. But he’d controlled it. It was never wise to openly defy Lucius Malfoy.

“Damn it, boy, what is there to think about?” his father had snapped when the silence had grown long. Draco had been unable to speak until that moment, and when he finally did, it had shocked them both.

“There’s much to think about, Lucius,” he’d replied stonily. “I don’t particularly like having to bargain for my freedoms.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Draco knew there would be hell to pay. Lucius’s nostrils flared, and his already flushed face went crimson with fury.

“Indeed,” he’d murmured menacingly. “I hadn’t realized we were on a first name basis. Very well. Since you refuse to be reasonable, I am forced to add Hogsmeade visits to the list of privileges you will no longer enjoy. In addition, you will volunteer to tutor the younger students of this school who require it. I believe the minimum donation of time is five hours per week. That should put you in plenty of contact with the Mudbloods.”

Draco had stared in horror. No Hogsmeade visits and tutoring? Impossible! But of course it wasn’t. Lucius was punishing him again, and making sure it hurt. Draco had stood and tried to argue, but Lucius had responded by slapping him hard across the face, drawing blood.

“Clearly,” he’d growled, bringing his face close to Draco’s, “someone has been breeding disobedience and stupidity in you. But not to worry, I’ll straighten you out.”

Draco had stared numbly at the ground beneath his boots. His father had had nothing more to say, and had called Professor Snape back into the office to inform him of the new restrictions that were to be placed on Draco. It had taken every ounce of strength that Draco had still possessed to keep his trembling to a minimum, and not to burst into tears. But he’d done it. He’d been dismissed moments later, his father wanting to speak privately with Snape. No doubt Lucius wished to complain about his son’s new lack of respect. Draco couldn’t recall how he’d gotten through the rest of that day. Snape had excused him from the remainder of his classes, telling him to remain in his room and rest. But he had found that impossible, and had wandered every inch of the castle until dinner time, seeing nothing and hearing his father’s voice echoing in his mind.

“Conform to my plans…born to disgrace my existence…stop your whining…someone has been breeding disobedience and stupidity in you…”

Draco’s thoughts had whirled until the pressure in his chest was painful and the pounding of his blood was audible in his ears. Instead of heading to the Great Hall for dinner, he’d gone to his room and torn it to shreds. How, he didn’t remember; he could only recall a roar of rage that must have come from himself. Crabbe and Goyle had later told him that they had gone upstairs to see how he was doing and had had to pounce on him to make him stop destroying everything. When Goyle had finally gotten a firm hold of Draco, Crabbe had run for Snape. Thankfully, there had been almost no one in the corridor at the time and Snape had effectively threatened those few who had witnessed the scene into silence. Draco vaguely remembered being whisked off to Madam Pomfrey for some minor injuries he’d inflicted on himself. Apparently he’d ripped some of his own hair out, and had dragged his nails down his face. But Madam Pomfrey had fixed it up nicely, and Snape had returned to the room Draco shared with his friends and fixed everything in the meantime. It had all looked normal by the time he returned. His whole body had ached for the next two days, however, and his concentration had suffered. He’d failed his Charms quiz on Thursday.

All in all, the whole week had been a disaster, and he wasn’t looking forward to Christmas. He’d opted to stay at school, as he had no desire to be in close proximity to his father. His mother had owled that morning, pleading with him to change his mind. But he was afraid that if he went home now, he’d either kill his father or he’d kill himself.

The sound of laughter broke in on his thoughts once more, and he exhaled impatiently at the interruption. He pulled his thoughts back and tried to make sense of what his life was becoming. He suddenly remembered Snape’s words: “Your choice, once made, will define your person for all time. Whether that leads to success or regret is entirely up to you.”

The decision was more difficult than he’d ever thought it could be. With the rebellion that had been brewing in his heart against Lucius, Draco found his very identity in limbo. What did he want? If he was no longer set upon pleasing his father, to whom would he turn for guidance?

He still had Professor Snape as a friend. But as much as he respected and admired the Potions Master, the man wasn’t his father. Although very little that could be called real affection had ever existed between himself and Lucius, there had nevertheless been a bond. With a sinking heart, Draco realized that, as the bond continued to fray, he was becoming more lost. And for the first time in his life he had nothing but uncertainty and fear in his mind.

Quite suddenly, he thought of Potter. The Boy Who Lived had essentially been on his own since his parents had been killed. He’d been raised by his Muggle family, true. But the tales Draco had heard said that he’d been abused and neglected by them. He was doing splendidly now, though, and had been since coming to Hogwarts.

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he thought of his most bitter rival. Harry Potter, who always saved the day, who never failed to trample on school rules to figure out a mystery, then got rewarded for it. If Potter hadn’t been around, Draco was sure he’d be the top student in school. The opportunity to die in the Chamber of Secrets had been only one of the things on the list of dangerous happenings Potter always seemed to stumble into, and yet somehow he’d always triumphed. And those triumphs had eradicated any chance of getting Hagrid or Dumbledore sacked, not to mention getting rid of the Mudbloods, and—

And Ginny Weasley would have been killed.

The sudden remembrance of this fact brought Draco’s anger to a halt. He realized he was doing it again, reacting with hatred and bitter emotion in response to something Potter had done, just because it was Potter who’d done it. This wasn’t about Potter, this was about Draco, his father, and the rest of his life.

Once again, a peal of laughter broke in on his musings, and Draco turned towards the sound with a snarl—

And saw Ginny Weasley, arm in arm with Caleb Anderson.

Draco froze in shock, his face suddenly relaxing as it went slack. Ginny was with Anderson, and she was apparently happy about it!

Draco’s frown returned as he watched Caleb speaking airily to Ginny, saying something like, “never mind the details.” Anderson was leading her towards the carriages, falling in behind a group of students headed to Hogsmeade. What was she doing with that idiotic prankster? Where were Weasley and Potter? Where was Granger, or at least Dresh? Was she actually going to set off alone with Anderson, without her friends’ knowledge?

And why the hell was she hanging on his arm?

Without realizing it at first, Draco began walking towards them. The carriages were filling up fast, but the couple was at the back of the line. Draco quickened his steps, then began running to catch up. By the time he reached them, they were boarding the final carriage, only the two of them inside.

“What are you doing?” Draco blurted, gasping from his last minute sprint. Both Ginny and Anderson turned to him in surprise.

“Hello Mr. Malfoy,” Caleb grinned. “Lovely day for a visit to Hogsmeade.”

Draco glared at Caleb, who continued to smile in an unruffled manner. Ginny frowned, halting her progress into the carriage.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she asked.

Oh, back to Malfoy, are we? he thought angrily. “I was just wondering where you were going,” he snapped.

“Hmm…not as bright as your hair would indicate, are you?” Caleb smirked, causing Draco to scowl.

“I know where you’re going, idiot!” he yelled.

“Please,” Ginny shushed them, then looked at Draco. “Did you want to come along?”

Caleb’s smile suddenly vanished. Turning to Ginny, he began to try and shove her into the carriage. “I’m sure Mr. Malfoy has plenty of other things to entertain himself with.”

Ginny, taken by surprise, stumbled into the carriage as Caleb scrambled in after her. Just as he was about to close the door, Draco reached out and caught it.

Caleb forced a smile. “Mr. Malfoy, the carriage won’t work until I close the door.”

Draco stared at him a moment, then looked past him at Ginny. She was rubbing her backside and looking at them both with irritation, her bright red hair falling around her face like a cloud.

He wasn’t supposed to go to Hogsmeade.

Pulling the door open, Draco leapt inside.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he smirked at Caleb. Anderson scowled as Ginny stifled a giggle.

Raquel Dodd Normal Raquel Dodd 2 7 2003-04-28T00:29:00Z 2003-05-13T09:20:00Z 2003-05-13T09:20:00Z 1 4807 27404 228 64 32147 10.2625 MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 11

“Oh look,” Caleb smiled brightly as they walked down High Street, “the beauty shop is having a special on facials. You should get one, Mr. Malfoy. It might help put some actual color into that pasty face of yours.”

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Draco grinned, his eyes sparkling with malice, “but I’m sure they’d be more anxious to get their hands on you. It’s not every day you come across a horse’s arse on two legs!”

Ginny winced. They’d been like this all afternoon; in between speaking civilly to her, that is. It had been funny for a while, but now it was getting tiresome. There was only so much childish bickering she could tolerate from two people who were almost adults. The only reason she’d let it go for so long was because she’d been unable to get a word in edgewise. It’s hard to speak up when you’re trying desperately not to laugh.

She glanced slyly at Draco, feeling a small smile touch her lips as she saw him laugh at some witticism Caleb made. He was still angry, and the verbal battle he and Caleb were waging had his face flushed, his eyes bright, and his tongue razor sharp. Should this be called his best or his worst? Ginny wondered. For his part, Caleb had been attentive and flirtatious towards her while bantering expertly with Malfoy. He’d even bought a rose and handed it to Ginny from behind, pleasantly surprising her. Her smile grew as she recalled how Draco had scowled.

“Well, Miss Weasley,” Caleb said suddenly, interrupting her reverie, “I believe I promised you lunch! Where would you like to go?”

Ginny smiled and thanked Caleb. “The Three Broomsticks would be fine.”

But Caleb had other ideas. “That shabby place? I think not! How about The Knight’s Castle? No finer place for a superb roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!”

“Oh,” Ginny gasped, “that’s…very generous of you! But I can’t possibly afford—“

“My treat,” Draco cut in smoothly, before Caleb could say a word. The dark haired Slytherin looked highly displeased, which delighted Draco. Ginny frowned.

“Thank you Draco, but that’s not necessary. I—“she began, but Draco cut her off.

“Consider it a Christmas gift.” He smiled slightly, looking at the path ahead of him instead of at her. “Besides, if we don’t sit down soon, I’m going to collapse!”

“Really,” Caleb grinned. “Will you go back to Hogwarts then?”

“And miss ruining your whole day? Don’t be silly!” Draco sneered.

“Ah, well,” Caleb sighed, linking his arm through Ginny’s, “I must take comfort in your presence, Miss Weasley. Good conversation from certain company has so far been severely lacking!”

“Indeed,” Draco replied before Ginny could speak. “I myself have had more interesting conversations with Merpeople!”

“Gentlemen,” Ginny sighed in an effort to keep from giggling, “is it possible for us to have a conversation together without all of this petty squabbling?”

“Petty squabbling?” Caleb cried, assuming an injured air. “My dear Ginny, you wound me!”

“Not enough, obviously, you’re still talking!” Draco drawled. Caleb ignored him, while Ginny frowned reprovingly.

“Here we are,” Caleb said brightly as they arrived at the small inn. Opening the door for Ginny, he followed her in and released the door just as Draco was about to enter, almost causing him to walk into it. With a scowl, Draco pulled the door open and followed them.

The interior of the small inn was dimly lit, and it took Ginny a moment to adjust her eyes. When she did she saw long, low wooden tables and benches, surrounded by small round tables in the shadowy corners. There was a huge fireplace that took up most of the rear wall and radiated comfortable warmth throughout the vast room. . The tables were covered with fine linen, and the maitre de who rushed over was dressed in handsome black velvet. Ginny was suddenly grateful for the dim light, as it disguised the shabby state of her own robes.

“Good afternoon young gentlemen, and lady,” the maitre de said in clipped tones. “Welcome to our humble establishment. Table for three this way.”

He led them to a small corner table and laid down the menus. Caleb immediately pulled out Ginny’s chair for her. After she sat, Draco handed her a menu. She smiled and was about to thank him when a glass of water was set down firmly in front of her. She turned to see Caleb smiling winningly and a serving witch holding a tray looking at him in mild surprise. Ginny decided to smile at her.

The maitre de bowed and left, and the serving witch finished handing out the glasses of water. “What may I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a glass of Little Hangleton Red,” Caleb requested. Draco ordered the Little Hangleton White, while Ginny stared blankly at them both. She had only drunk wine once or twice, and it had been pretty cheap. She straightened in her seat, wondering if she should just follow their lead. She didn’t really like wine, but for such a fancy place as this it might be better to order it nonetheless. After a moment, she decided she’d risk looking the peasant and ordered ale.

“What kind, m’lady?” the server asked.

“Er…” She quickly flipped open her menu and found the beverage listing. There were about ten different ales listed, her favorite among them. Then she saw the prices and nearly gasped.

Both Caleb and Draco watched her in quiet amusement, Draco stifling a laugh. She could be so charmingly naïve about things, and it made him smile. He saw her blush clearly despite the dimness, and decided to speed things along.

“She’ll have the Bonnington bitters,” he said firmly. Ginny started, then nodded at the waitress, who rushed off to get their drinks. When she’d gone, Ginny laughed with embarrassment.

“Sorry about that; thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw those prices. Eight sickles for a drink!”

“Ginny, you’re not paying for this so please just relax.” Draco smiled.

“How exactly do I do that?” she asked, looking at the menu with wide eyes. This time Draco and Caleb both laughed. The atmosphere became more relaxed between the three of them after that. To Ginny’s surprise, Caleb and Draco actually began to speak a bit more civilly to each other.

“I was telling my father that I didn’t fancy following along in the family business,” Caleb said in a sudden moment of seriousness, sipping his wine. The Anderson’s had made a fortune, in Caleb’s grandfather’s time, in importing and growing Mandrakes, various Tentaculas -- including the venomous varieties -- Gillyweed, Devil’s Snare, and other exotic vegetation.

Draco stared into his glass. “Does he listen?”

“Not really,” Caleb grimaced. “I fortunately have two elder brothers, but he seems set on dragging all three of us into it. Like I want to spend the rest of my life peddling plants!”

Ginny’s eyes passed from Caleb to Draco. Their expressions had gone almost neutral, except for a melancholy sadness in Caleb’s eyes and a dark pain in Draco’s. She wondered then just how much pressure they were under from their parents, who obviously had high expectations. She remembered the years her mum had spent lecturing and scolding the twins, trying to force them to become more serious and enter the Ministry. It hadn’t worked, and Ginny had known that her mother had been wrong to try and force Fred and George to do what she wished, instead of what they wanted. Thanks to their hard work and determination, Wacky Clandestine was now one of the most successful businesses in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Their mother had long ago admitted she was wrong, and had been more supportive of her children since. Ginny sipped her ale thoughtfully, wondering what made a parent so certain that they knew what would make their children happy.

“Why don’t you talk to your father?” Ginny asked kindly, though which boy she was speaking to even she wasn’t certain. It was Draco who replied with a harsh laugh.

“How do you talk to man who doesn’t even ask questions, just gives orders and expects them to be followed?”

“Or who doesn’t even entertain the idea that you might actually mean it when you say you don’t want to do something,” Caleb added, smiling in bitter amusement. Ginny remembered then that Draco had been cut from the Quidditch team, and wondered if that had been Lucius’s decision instead of Snape’s. Now that she thought about it, why would Snape cut his favorite student from the team? That would be a punishment, and Draco was never punished by the Potions Master.

Draco shook his head, interrupting Ginny’s musings. “Enough of this, Anderson. I might actually start being nice to you!”

“Oh Lord, Malfoy, don’t threaten me that way!” Caleb grinned, making Ginny laugh. Their food arrived then, and further conversation was limited to comments on the quality of the meal (“Excellent!” Ginny kept exclaiming), and the occasional sniping between Ginny’s escorts. She gave up trying to stop them.

An hour later they were back on High Street, feeling full and sleepy. Ginny didn’t hesitate to take the arm proffered to her by Caleb, as she needed all the support she could get. She turned to Draco, smiling.

“Thank you for paying, Mr. Malfoy, I appreciate it.”

“What about me?” Caleb pouted.

Ginny laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “And thank you for inviting me along, Mr. Anderson. I’ve had a lovely time.”

“I knew you would,” he gloated. “I’m rather brilliant that way.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “The carriages will be leaving soon,” he said loudly. “We should start heading back.”

Ginny checked her watch. “Lord, it’s almost four!”

“Can’t leave yet,” Caleb said. “I have to pick up something. It’ll only take a moment.”

He released Ginny’s arm and headed towards Dervish and Banges. Ginny watched him go. “Should we stick with him?”

“Why, afraid he’ll get lost?” Draco asked sarcastically. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I just don’t want us to get separated,” she said patiently. “I’ve had fun with the two of you, and I just think it would be rude if we didn’t all return to Hogwarts together.”

“Oh, should we join hands and enter the Great Hall singing?” Draco sneered. Ginny’s gaze snapped up to him, her face contorted in an angry frown.

“That is not what I meant! I – oh, never mind!” Turning on her heel, she stalked off after Caleb.

Draco watched her for a few seconds before passing his hand over his face. Way to go, Malfoy, he thought, you’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re an immature bastard. He sighed and followed her.

He spotted her red head instantly, making straight for Dervish and Banges. As he continued to trot after her he wondered why he was doing it, why he’d jumped into the carriage and wound up in Hogsmeade in the first place. He’d spent the greater part of the afternoon bandying words with the irritating prankster that was Caleb Anderson, all in an effort to keep Ginny’s attention from resting on the Quidditch announcer for too long. Why? Why did he care if she spent an afternoon with Anderson? Why did he care what she did at all? He knew why, really. It was the same reason he felt his heart swell with warmth when he was in her presence, the reason he wanted to stop and touch her when they passed each other in the corridors. She was a kind, giving, brave, unselfish, and beautiful person, something not seen on every street corner. As he drew up behind her, watching as her hair fluttered in the wind, Draco knew beyond doubt why he’d pursued her.

“Ginny!” He caught up to her just as she reached the entrance of the shop. Grabbing her arm, he turned her towards him. She stared angrily up at him, yanking her arm out of his grasp, but not moving away.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said softly. “I didn’t mean that.”

Ginny shook her head, a small, bitter smile forming on her face. “Yes you did, Draco. You’re in a foul mood and now you’ve decided everyone else should be as well.”

Draco frowned, disliking how close that remark struck home. “What do you want me to say, Ginny? I like how I’ve spent my day or that I’ve had a glorious time? Do you realize how much trouble I’d be in if my father knew where I was?”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” she snapped. “Poor Draco is breaking his rules of behavior, and now he has to pretend he didn’t or he’ll be hexed into oblivion or disowned by his father. Well excuse me if I don’t pull out a tissue and cry!”

“I’m not talking about my behavior,” he retorted. “I’m not supposed to be here!”

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Malfoy!”

Draco closed his eyes in frustration. “Ginny, I’m serious…”

The sound of the shop door opening interrupted his statement, and he opened his eyes to see Ginny entering without a backwards glance.

Draco blinked, unable to believe she’d walked away from him in the middle of his sentence. Not only did she not believe him, but she wasn’t even going to let him explain? Furious, he stalked in after her.

Once again he found her easily, standing stiffly in an open aisle, looking down its path. Caleb was standing next to her by a shelf of miniature Lunascopes, and looking at her with a strangely amused expression. Eyes narrowing, Draco walked swiftly towards them. Ginny was speaking to Caleb, but not looking at him. Probably telling the idiot what an arse I’ve been, Draco thought irritably. He quickened his steps, thinking of barging forth and dragging the both of them by their hair to the damn carriages, when a female voice that wasn’t Ginny’s, but was coming from where she was standing, suddenly became audible.

“…haven’t decided what I’m going to get Harry yet,” it said. “I’ve wanted to ask him, but he’s been in a terrible mood of late.”

Draco froze. That was Granger, or he was a toad! So Ginny hadn’t been speaking to Anderson at all. He wondered if…

“It’s a bit complicated, Hermione,” the voice of Ron Weasley spoke up. “You know, girl problems…”

Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better! Draco thought.

He walked slowly towards Ginny, stopping just short of the aisle. The shelves were tall enough to hide his and Caleb’s presence from Ron and Granger, and as Draco looked across Ginny’s head at Anderson, he met a look of amused and ironic delight that surely must have matched his own.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll pass,” Ginny said in a strained and somewhat high-pitched tone. Her face was flushed and her eyes seemed to be darting everywhere. Draco was caught between feeling sympathy for her plight and wanting to burst out laughing. Of course, this was what she’d meant about him not thinking of anyone else, and he felt a tad guilty that up to that moment he’d not even remembered that Ginny would be in a world of trouble if her brother caught her in the presence of a Slytherin, much less two!

“What will pass?” Granger asked quizzically.

“Er… Harry, of course. Whatever’s bothering him, you know,” Ginny replied with an overlarge smile.

“Yeah, it will,” Ron agreed absently. “Say, what’re you doing here alone anyway? I don’t see Susan or Seamus.”

Ron’s voice seemed to change direction, indicating that he was looking around. Ginny looked in Draco’s direction. “I’m not alone.”

As her wide eyes met his, Draco clearly saw the faint panic. She was trapped and was thinking desperately of a way out. Draco smiled at her and shrugged slightly. There wasn’t much he could do to help her that didn’t involve revealing himself.

“Well, who’d you come with?” Ron persisted.

“Just some people, Ron,” Ginny replied irritably. “I didn’t pay attention. There were some Ravenclaws, and a few others.”

Draco saw Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up, and agreed with the obvious sentiment. Very clever how she wasn’t exactly lying. She just wasn’t mentioning that those “others” were Slytherins and, in particular, Ron’s most hated enemy on the Quidditch field and off. Draco’s smile faltered momentarily as he thought of Quidditch, but he quickly shoved the depressing thoughts away. He was having far too much fun to dwell on anything else.

“Ron, maybe we should go. It’s already four fifteen, and the carriages will be filling up soon,” Granger said soothingly. Ginny smiled gratefully at her.

“Yeah, all right. C’mon Ginny, we’ll get one of the first carriages,” Ron said, his hand suddenly appearing to grasp her elbow. Ginny pulled away.

“Oh… no Ron. I have to wait for my companions, they’re around here somewhere.”

“What? You just said you didn’t remember who you came with,” her brother responded in confusion.

“Well, we’ve been together all day so now I know them… er… more or less,” Ginny said lamely. “I’ll meet you back at Hogwarts.”

“Ginny, stop being silly. I don’t like the idea of you going off alone with people you barely know,” Ron said, with a tone that sounded irritatingly condescending.

“I’ll be fine, Ron,” Ginny said patiently, a tiny line forming between her brows, “don’t worry about it. They’re students, after all, what could possibly happen?”

“Gin, anything could happen! Don’t forget what’s been happening at the school! I don’t want to find out later that your carriage was attacked and that you were turned into a blood sucker!”

“Ron, calm down!” Hermione urged. “It’s just Hogwarts students.”

“You’re exaggerating, Ron.” Ginny’s frown grew more obvious. “Dumbledore’s put more security measures in place; there are three teachers with the groups today. I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah, I know, but we can’t be too careful. Please stop arguing with me Ginny and come on.”

“Will you please, for once, stop treating me like a baby?” Ginny cried.

“I’ll stop treating you like one when you stop acting like one!” Ron shot back. Draco’s eyes widened. That had been unnecessary, and a sudden foreboding came over him. The Ginny he knew wouldn’t take this lying down. And he was right.

“Ron.” Granger’s voice had a sharp warning tone to it, but it was too late. Ginny’s face flushed with anger, but her frown was smoothed away and replaced by a wide, gritted smile.

“All right, since you’re so worried about me big brother, allow me to reassure you that I’m most definitely not alone. In fact, let me introduce my companions.” And without warning, Ginny’s hands shot out to either side of her, grabbing the arms of both Caleb and Draco and yanking them into the aisle beside her. Ron and Hermione froze in shock, eyes widening. Draco and Caleb stared at Ginny, then turned smiling to Ron and Hermione. Ginny’s smile was equally wide and her eyes blazed with anger. She was not a child, and she would bloody well travel with whomever she pleased!

“Good afternoon,” Caleb cried. “So nice to speak to the famous Gryffindor Chaser personally!” He grabbed Ron’s stiff hand and shook it, then shook Hermione’s hand just because she looked so stunned. Draco sneered in his usual manner at the two of them, barely inclining his head in their direction. He was rather shocked himself at Ginny’s boldness, and put it down to her temper flaring at the wrong time.

Caleb checked his watch. “Four thirty, time to scoot!”

“Then let’s not dawdle,” Draco agreed, deliberately grabbing Ginny’s hand in his. Caleb, not to be left out of anything, grabbed her other hand and they began to walk swiftly away.

“Ginny!” Ron choked out finally. “What…are you…”

“It’s late,” Ginny called out loudly behind her, walking faster as she was now quite embarrassed at what she’d done. “Must go!”

“Virginia Weasley!” Hermione fairly shrieked. “Where are you going with…with…”

“See you at Hogwarts!” Draco called back as the three of them fairly ran towards the exit.

Once outside, they burst into hysterical laughter. Ginny was feeling torn between guilt and amusement at the look on the faces of her brother and dear friend, which only added to the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Come on, before they come after us with their wands!” Caleb chortled, grabbing Ginny’s arm. Still laughing, they began to make their way towards the carriages.

*****************

Harry walked tensely up High Street next to Cho. Chancing a sidelong glance at her, he saw that she was still very angry. Her pretty face was scrunched into a frown, the line between her brows was deep, and her cheeks were flushed red. He sighed. Nothing he’d said had made anything better, and he honestly didn’t blame her for being angry. But it wasn’t like he’d meant to push her away or make her feel ignored -- he was just so busy. He’d had a lot of Quidditch practices to attend since he was Quidditch Captain, and the competition for the Cup was fierce this year. Then there was all that was happening around the school: the vampires, Remus, and the unusual attacks on Malfoy, and he’d had a lot of investigating to do. He hadn’t wanted to involve Cho for fear of placing her in danger.

Or maybe he simply didn’t trust anyone to be of any help to himself, Ron, and Hermione. Harry winced as he thought of the incident Cho had brought up, the lunch on Friday. He’d promised to meet her in Professor McGonagall’s class and spend time with her as she’d had papers to grade for the professor. But right before lunch, during Transfiguration, Hermione had passed him a note saying that she’d overheard some Slytherin girls discussing a supposed connection between Elizabeth Morgan and Augustus Rookwood during Arithmancy. Harry had been shocked, and he, Ron, and Hermione had gone to Remus with their information straight away. Harry had unfortunately forgotten all about lunch with Cho, and she was still furious.

Harry stopped walking, grabbing Cho’s arm to halt her as well. She turned to him with a puzzled glare.

“Harry, it’s four thirty, the carriages will be loading soon,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly, ignoring her words. “Why won’t you believe me?”

Cho shook her head. “I do believe you Harry, and I have a suspicion about what you’ve been up to. But that isn’t the point.”

“Well, what is then?” he asked in exasperation.

“The fact that I’m second, no, third in your life.” Cho closed her eyes, obviously saying this with regret. “I’m third to your friends and to whatever heroics you’re planning, not to mention being less important to you than Quidditch. I loved Quidditch too, Harry, but it means more to you than it ever did to me. As for you and your friends… how many times have you done it, Harry? Charged into danger or rushed to solve a mystery that’s better left to the teachers, or better yet, Aurors?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Now wait a moment, Cho-“

“No Harry, I’m tired of waiting!” she said fiercely. “I’m sick of worrying that you’re off doing exactly the sort of thing that got you caught by You-Know-Who and got Ced-“

She stopped speaking abruptly, and Harry felt his chest tighten painfully.

“Go on,” he whispered, “say it! ‘What got Cedric killed’!”

Cho’s eyes welled with tears. “I’ve never blamed you for that, Harry!”

“Then why bring it up?” he asked angrily, outraged that she would rip into his wounds in that way. It was a wound she shared he realized. But she hadn’t been there, she hadn’t seen it happen and been unable to stop it. No one knew what it had really been like, and Harry resented anyone referring to it for just that reason. His demons were his own; he didn’t need others flaying them in their ignorance. Not even Cho Chang.

Cho wiped her eyes. “Harry, I won’t go through that again, I can’t! I lost Cedric in a horrible way, and it tore me apart! I know we were just kids, but it hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced before.” She took a deep breath, then looked him steadily in the eye.

“Your whole life is wrapped up in Him, in trying to stop Him or stay hidden from Him. I know you’re an extraordinary person, Harry, but I’m so afraid that something’s going to happen to you, too. I just can’t…”

The tears began to pour down her face, leaving Harry numb and voiceless. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry!” Cho whispered, then turned and walked swiftly away. Harry watched her go, feeling empty, yet strangely without anger. The sun was still up, the sky wasn’t falling, and people were still walking through the streets. Life wasn’t over.

“Harry?” a hesitant voice beside him spoke softly. Harry turned slowly and saw Hermione and Ron standing beside him. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that they were suddenly there.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked, looking worriedly into Harry’s pale face. Harry nodded slowly, speaking with effort.

“How much did you hear?” he asked woodenly.

“Nothing,” Hermione hastily reassured him. “We just…well, we saw Cho crying and speaking so seriously to you. And then she walked away, and you didn’t follow…”

Harry nodded. “Let’s go.”

The trio began walking towards the carriages, Ron and Hermione full of questions but remaining silent. Harry would speak when he was ready, and until then they would let him have his space.

“And I thought my day was bad!” Ron mumbled, making Hermione smile slightly. Ron half hoped that Harry would ask what he meant, partly because he thought Harry could use a distraction and partly because he was still mad as hell at Ginny. But Harry didn’t appear to have heard anything; he just continued walking and staring at the ground. Ron sighed; it had been a long day.

****************

Ginny stood outside of Zonko’s Joke Shop, glancing impatiently at her watch every few seconds. Just as they had run out of Dervish and Banges, Caleb had decided he’d needed something else before they went. Now it was four forty, and she had a nasty feeling that they were going to miss the carriages.

After five minutes Draco had gone in after Caleb, muttering something about transfiguring him into a coconut. Ginny half hoped he would, since this last minute shopping would likely cost them their ride back to Hogwarts. She peeked inside the shop door and saw with relief that they were at the sales counter, Draco frowning blackly at a blithely laughing Caleb. Ginny felt a rush of irritation. This was not the time to be joking! As soon as they came out, she began scolding him.

“Honestly Caleb, you should have bought all this beforehand! We’ve just fifteen minutes to get to the carriages and if we don’t make it, we’ll have to walk! I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy walking all the way back to Hogwarts in these-“she held up a foot for a second, flashing an old pair of lace up work boots. “They’re frightfully heavy, and my feet are already killing me!”

“Miss Weasley, calm yourself! We’re not far from the carriages, just minutes, I think.” Caleb laughed, tucking her arm through his yet again. Ginny frowned and continued to rant.

“…rather irresponsible…completely unnecessary…think ahead and plan for these things…”

She didn’t know it, but she sounded remarkably like her mother. Draco was smirking rather happily.

“Ginny, if they’re such a bother, why did you wear them?” Caleb asked when he could finally get a word in. Ginny scowled and yanked her arm away from him.

“I hadn’t planned on going anywhere until you interjected yourself into my conversation with Susan!” she said hotly.

“Oh really, Miss Weasley? I believe your conversation was due to be interrupted regardless, thanks to Mr. Finnigan.” Caleb rolled his eyes.

“So you charged to her rescue, did you?” Draco asked sarcastically.

“Of course! I am the dashing knight, and I polish my armor regularly to be ready for any situation!” Caleb replied easily with a roguish grin. Ginny snorted in disgust.

“Oh, please!” she muttered darkly. Draco eyed her in amusement, then looked over at Caleb.

“You simply must tell me how you do it. I mean, she looks as happy as a House Elf.”

“Ha ha,” Caleb mocked, making a face while Ginny punched Draco’s arm.

“Miss Weasley!” a female voice suddenly called from behind them. Turning, they beheld the slender form of Elizabeth Morgan running towards them.

Ginny frowned in surprise, waiting for Elizabeth to catch up to them. The older woman’s hair was mussed and her eyes were wild, which frightened Ginny. Instinctively she drew closer to her companions, and was surprised but reassured when she felt Draco’s hand come to rest on her shoulder.

“Miss Weasley,” Elizabeth gasped, out of breath, “you must come with me quickly! There’s been an accident with your brother, I don’t yet know how badly off he is. Mr. Malfoy, you must come as well! The other teachers wish to speak with you.”

“What?” Ginny gasped, beginning to follow Elizabeth. “Ron? What happened?”

“And who wants to see me?” Draco added suspiciously, following along more slowly. Curious, Caleb followed as well.

Elizabeth turned to Draco impatiently. “I don’t have time to explain, Mr. Malfoy! But Professor Snape needs you!”

“Snape is here?” Draco asked, surprised. He hadn’t seen the Potions Master all day. But he had been too distracted, really, to see who else had been in town with them. Still, if Snape had been there, Draco was sure he would have seen him at some point. He wanted to ask more questions, but Ms. Morgan was fairly yanking Ginny along, and Ginny was already running as fast as she could in her blind panic. Draco swore under his breath, grabbed Caleb by his sleeve, and hurried to catch up. He was being forced into a situation blindly, but he refused to go in unprepared. There was strength in numbers. Or he hoped there was.

“Ouch! Draco, you’re tearing my sleeve!” Caleb hissed.

“Then hurry up, you idiot!” Draco snapped, wondering why he was following this strange woman. He’d been raised to mistrust everyone and this situation didn’t feel right at all. Damn Weasley for a trusting fool! She was running now, babbling questions but receiving no answers. At least, no direct answers, as far as Draco could tell.

“Did he hit his head?” Ginny asked when Elizabeth told her he’d fallen from a carriage.

“He’s sustained a dreadful wound,” Elizabeth replied anxiously. “I don’t know how bad.”

“Is it me, or is this lovely damsel not all she appears?” Caleb whispered. Draco didn’t have time or breath to reply. They turned into a narrow alley, and Draco could see carriages blocking the far end of it. Elizabeth suddenly slowed, grabbing Ginny’s elbow to stop her. Ginny turned to her in confusion, her face tight with worry and fear.

“What is it? I need to get to Ron!” Ginny gasped. But Elizabeth’s face had changed, growing suddenly very sad.

“I’m sorry, Miss Weasley. There’s nothing wrong with your brother.”

“Nothing… but you said he was hurt!” Ginny protested, frowning even more.

“I knew it!” Draco spat, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Elizabeth. Caleb had already dropped his bag and pulled out his own.

“Dear me, no manners!” came a voice from above. Draco whirled around just as something large and heavy came crashing down upon him. He hit the pavement hard, knocking his head against the ground and dropping his wand. Near him he heard Caleb shout in protest and Ginny scream, and he knew they’d been disarmed as well. He struggled to maintain consciousness, forcing his eyes to open.

“We meet again, Mr. Malfoy,” said the blonde female vampire, the one who’d led the last attack against him, as she leaned over his face. He was trapped this time, he knew, and the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Ginny screaming.

“WHY??”

Raquel Dodd Normal Raquel Dodd 4 7 2003-02-02T12:02:00Z 2003-05-13T09:22:00Z 1 2321 13231 110 31 15521 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 12

Ginny gripped the unconscious form of Draco Malfoy, pulling him closer to herself and Caleb, whose hands had been tied behind his back. They were in a large and swiftly moving coach, Elizabeth seated on the right side staring blankly out the window, a large, purple bruise forming under her right eye. The strange, deathly pale man and woman were seated on the left, while Ginny and her companions were on the floor between them. Wiping the tears from her face, Ginny tried to stifle the knocking panic that was threatening to overwhelm her again and studied the strangers.

The woman had short blonde hair, wide spaced eyes and a cold, satisfied smirk on her face. Ginny felt her stomach clench at the sight of it, and quickly dropped her eyes to study what the woman was wearing. Heavy black robes and what appeared to be riding boots, several large rings, and she was twirling Draco’s wand in her hand. Ginny then turned her eyes to the man, and she found him already studying her.

Ginny was startled, but didn’t look away. He had long black hair that was gathered into a high topknot, and then twisted into three braids. His face, like the woman’s, was cold as ice. Yet there was something in his eyes that was different from his companion, though Ginny couldn’t place it. She frowned as his eyes swept over her companions, wondering why he struck her so curiously. Especially as he’d almost killed her.

The woman suddenly laughed softly, causing Ginny to start. “Don’t be frightened Miss Weasley, we don’t plan to have you for lunch….yet!”

Ginny stared, and felt a return of the sick fear that had swept over her when she’d seen the black clothed form drop seemingly from the sky and land squarely on Draco. His skull had cracked audibly on the pavement, and for some insane reason she’d had a flash of that night in the kitchens, when he’d cracked his head on the hearth.

But then reality had intruded, and Ginny had turned to Elizabeth in fury, throwing her fist out and striking the petite woman’s face. Elizabeth had crumpled, but before Ginny had run two steps she’d been caught by the man with the long braids. He’d scooped her up from behind, his hand clamping over her mouth and nose. Ginny’s mad struggles had caused her to lose breath faster, and she soon found herself struggling blindly to breathe. That was when his voice had hissed in her ear;

“Stop fighting me or I will deliver you as a corpse! I have no difficulty in doing so, believe me!”

Ginny, by that time, was blacking out from lack of oxygen, and went limp. As soon as she did, the man removed his hand from her face, and Ginny had been too busy gulping air to fathom how she’d gotten into the carriage, save that it had been done very quickly. She only remembered being unceremoniously tossed in, followed by a suddenly bound Caleb-“Stupid child wizard!” a large and surprisingly living man had said as he’d tossed him in before climbing into the driver’s seat-and finally Draco was thrown down by the blonde woman, who’d clambered in after, laughing with cold delight.

When Elizabeth had climbed in, she’d looked at Ginny for only a moment, her hand gripping her face where Ginny had punched her, then looked away and sat by the window away from the students. Ginny felt cold hatred press down on her heart, and had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming at the traitorous woman. She looked over at Elizabeth, who was staring intently out of the window and seemed to be staring at some fixed point in space. Fiendish wench, Ginny thought furiously, Professor Lupin will kill you for this, I hope! But not before I do!

The carriage was going very fast, and Ginny wondered where their destination was. It had been at least an hour since they’d left Hogsmeade behind, and the overcast sky was darkening as the sun began to set. Has anyone missed us yet, Ginny wondered. She thought of Ron, and was very sorry she’d fought with him earlier. As the carriage continued to race along, the thought that she might not see him, or her family, or Harry and Hermione ever again struck. She gripped Draco a bit more tightly, then turned to Caleb and touched his arm, bringing a weak smile to his face. For the moment she was glad she wasn’t alone, as selfish as that might be.

“Don’t be impatient, Miss Weasley,” the braided vampire spoke for the first time, “we’ll arrive at our destination soon. And then maybe you’ll wish we hadn’t!”

Ginny started, turning to the dark haired man in surprise. She was having a hard time staying calm, and decided to try to get some answers. Anything to focus her thoughts.

“Who are you?” she asked boldly, feeling her heart race and her stomach turn. The woman laughed.

“We are messengers,” she chuckled, “and collectors. We deal in valuable property and goods,” her eyes rested on Draco for a moment, and her smile grew wider, “and we always deliver.”

Ginny wanted to vomit. There was something murderously cold and unfeeling about the woman, and Ginny truly feared her. Here was a person who would torture you for the pleasure it gave her, and who most likely relished her life as a killer. Ginny had always heard of such people, mostly allies of the Dark Lord’s, and Ginny had thought she knew what they looked like. But seeing one live and up close showed her clearly how wrong she’d been. The face of evil could be as hideous as Voldemort himself, or it could be as lovely as the woman before her. What they shared was a singular lack of human warmth and compassion, and a delight in the destruction of another’s peace.

How could such beings exist? What drove them to this state of frozen inhumanity?

“You’re angry because he escaped you the first time!” Ginny whispered, trying to keep her nerve up but not really succeeding. The woman’s smile faltered for only the barest of moments.

“It was a reprieve for him,” the woman replied carelessly, “We always get our quarry. Sometimes it just takes a bit of extra work.”

“And yet it only takes a few wizards to stop you,” Draco’s voice came weakly from the floor. Ginny gasped softly and bent over him anxiously. His grey eyes fluttered open after a moment, but closed again almost immediately. Ginny caressed his head, feeling the large bump on the back of his skull.

“Ouch!” he hissed and tried to move away from her hand.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“How sweet,” the woman said sarcastically, “and no, Mr. Malfoy, not a few wizards, just one great one! We would have turned this fool and her wolf friend to ashes before too long.”

The woman gestured scornfully to Elizabeth, who said nothing.

Ginny turned a venomous glare on the woman, but it only made her laugh. Draco’s voice drifted up again;

“Are you sure? You were running scared before Dumbledore even got there, as I recall.” He said as snidely as he could. The woman’s smile vanished this time. Baring her teeth in a vicious snarl, she leaned forward and looked straight down into Draco’s pale face. Ginny almost gasped at the sight of her pointed fangs and her head being only inches away from Ginny’s face.

“Think what you like man-boy,” she hissed, “I have you now! And as soon as this business is done, I will show you what I do to males with overly loose tongues!”

Draco glared defiantly up at the face of his prime captor, but was too dizzy to make any kind of impression. Smirking in satisfaction, the woman resumed her place on the bench. Caleb shifted until he was on his knees, then scooted over to look at Draco.

“Still alive, I see,” he quipped.

“Unfortunately,” Draco replied, wincing at the throbbing in his head.

“Well, I’d offer to fix you up, but the Celt there has our wands. Mine and Ginny’s that is. Madam Butterfly over there seems to want to make love to yours!”

The woman turned and snarled viciously at Caleb, “Silence or I’ll rip your tongue out and eat it right now! We have no orders concerning you, and I may get hungry soon!”

Caleb pursed his lips, but said nothing else. Ginny took a deep breath, then turned to her captors.

“What do you want with us?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

“If it were just me, Miss Weasley,” the woman said airily, “then I’d have already dined on your blood and saved myself the inconvenience of your presence. But we are delivering you, as I said. And being well paid for it.”

“Who wants us?” Ginny demanded, growing frustrated.

“That you will find out when we arrive at our destination.” The braided man replied, his cold gaze momentarily pinning her.

“Bully for us, then.” Caleb muttered as Ginny concentrated on not crying again. She looked back down at Draco, who began to struggle to sit up. His head throbbed worse than ever as he slowly rose, but he was determined not to continue to appear weak in front of his enemies. That kept them in control, and made fighting back that much more difficult since you would begin to believe in your own weakness.

Once he was fully upright, he sat still until the throbbing began to die down. Ginny was on her knees, a hand on his shoulder in case he needed support. Caleb watched him shrewdly for a moment, then shifted his arms slightly and pulled his hands in front of him. The Celt, who’d been eyeing Draco, noticed Caleb’s sudden movement and turned to him with widened eyes.

“Impressive,” he said finally. Caleb grinned, tossing the thong aside and rubbing his sore wrists. The woman glared scornfully.

“I’m not at all impressed!” She growled.

“Relah,” the Celt murmured, “shut up.”

The woman called Relah snapped a glare at him, then turned scowling back to the window. Ginny suddenly understood that, though Relah was the most verbal of them, the Celt actually held control.

“I want to know where we’re going,” Draco said quietly, turning to face the Celt.

Relah laughed, “You will demand nothing from us, boy!”

But Draco didn’t even glance at her. He kept his eyes trained on the ice cold face of the Celt, who looked steadily back in silence. Several tense moments passed before he replied.

“To London.”

Ginny gasped and burst into tears, while both Draco and Caleb reared back slightly, stunned.

“But…London’s over seven hundred kilometers from here!” Draco stared at his captor, who smiled.

“Ms. Morgan, please pull your hand in, I don’t want you losing it to some stray tree branch.” The Celt said softly, turning to Elizabeth. Draco and the others turned as well, in time to see Elizabeth pull her hand slowly in from where she’d apparently been waving it absently. Her face had become deathly pale as well, her eyes taking on a decidedly glazed expression, and for a moment they wondered if she had been turned into a vampire herself.

“How are we going to get there?” Ginny asked suddenly, staring at the floor of the carriage as tears streamed down her face.

“All in good time, Miss Weasley,” Relah smiled cheerily.

The coach rattled on, and as Draco stared out the window he wondered if perhaps the answer to who was behind all the attacks on him was waiting at the end of their journey.

***************

Ron, Harry, and Hermione arrived at the carriages with five minutes to spare. All but two were full. As Harry helped Hermione into one that had only two other students in it (neither of which was Cho, thankfully), Ron started running up the line and peering into the carriage windows.

“Ron, what are you doing?” Harry called as Ron made it to a fourth carriage. After a moment he pulled his head out of its window.

“Looking for Ginny!” he called back. Harry frowned and looked at Hermione in askance, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

“She’s here with…um, she came with…some people Ron didn’t like.” She said lamely.

Harry’s frown deepened, “Who?”

Before Hermione could answer, one of the girls in the carriage, a Ravenclaw third year named Amanda, spoke.

“Ginny Weasley? I saw her go into the Knight’s Castle with Caleb Anderson and Draco Malfoy.” She said brightly, turning to her friend and giggling.

Hermione glared at the younger girls, “Thank you!”

Harry stared in shock, the cloud of lethargic sadness that had been hanging over his head since Cho had walked away from him suddenly dropping.

“With who?” he cried.

“Harry, calm down! There’s nothing we can do until we see her back at Hogwarts, and Ron plans to give her a good talking to.” Hermione soothed, looking irritated nonetheless. Harry scowled and turned to see Ron nearly at the front of the line. After a moment Professor McGonagall, who’d accompanied the students along with Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick, approached Ron and began speaking to him.

Harry stared hard. There was something about Ron’s stance that alarmed him. Even from this distance he looked tense, ready to run. After a moment’s conversation with McGonagall, she patted his shoulder and walked purposefully over to Madam Hooch. The two women appeared to speak rapidly together, and Ron was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Something’s wrong,” Harry murmured, staring harder as McGonagall walked quickly towards Ron, then the two of them began walking back down the line of carriages.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, climbing out of the carriage to see what was going on. Harry felt a dark forboding descend.

“Ginny’s not here,” he said softly.

Hermione stared open mouthed at Harry, then fearfully turned her gaze towards Ron and Professor McGonagall, who were rapidly nearing them. They paused at a middle coach to speak with little Professor Flitwick, who’s face suddenly betrayed concern and alarm. Harry felt his give a sharp pound.

The Professor and Ron quickly resumed their trek towards Ron and Hermione, reaching them in moments.

“Ginny isn’t here yet!” Ron spoke directly to Harry, as if Harry would wave his wand and produce Ginny from his pocket. Harry didn’t know whether to cry or strangle his friend.

“Mr. Weasley tells me that you and he were the last ones to see his sister and her companions, Miss Granger.” The Professor addressed Hermione in clipped tones.

“Yes ma’am,” Hermione replied worriedly, “We were all at Dervish and Banges. They said they were headed here when they…when they left the shop.”

“Did they give any indication of stopping elsewhere along the way?” McGonagall asked.

“I told you, they said they had to get back here!” Ron yelled, then flushed red when the Professor frowned at him, “Sorry Professor, but I’m worried. She was with Malfoy and that Anderson bloke.”

“I am trying to ascertain all the information I can, Mr. Weasley,” The Professor said quietly, “I understand your worry, but we can’t simply go dashing off haphazardly through Hogsmeade. And the Headmaster will have to be informed at once. However,” she straightened her robes calmly, “if she is with other Hogwarts students, regardless of your personal feelings of them, then I’m sure she’s safe.”

“Malfoy hasn’t been too safe lately,” Harry reminded the Professor. She stared at him, then looked down High Street for a moment. Turning back around, she waved to Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick, who set the carriages in motion back to the school. Then she turned to face the trio.

“Mr. Weasley, you’ll come with me. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, please begin at Dervish and Banges and work your way towards The Three Broomsticks.”

They all nodded, Hermione adding, “Someone said they saw the three of them go into The Knight’s Castle earlier, Professor.”

“Then Mr. Weasley and I will start there.” She said, grabbing Ron’s shoulder and steering him firmly down the street. Harry and Hermione immediately began running back to the Wizarding shop, hoping their fears were unjustified.

Normal Raquel Dodd 5 33 2003-05-13T09:24:00Z 2003-05-13T09:25:00Z 1 4598 26215 218 61 30752 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 13

Two and a half hours later, Harry and Hermione strode into The Three Broomsticks feeling exhausted and frightened. They had gone to every shop in town (often on McGonagall and Ron’s heels), and a few homes as well, but there had been no sign of Ginny. It was after dark now, and Harry knew beyond a doubt that Ginny was no longer in Hogsmeade. And neither were Malfoy and Anderson.

Harry’s eyes swept around the pub, but McGonagall and Ron weren’t there yet. They had succeeded in tracing Ginny and the Slytherins as far as Zonko’s Joke Shop, but from there the shop keeper said he’d seen them walking eastward. Towards the carriages, Harry knew. He and Hermione had walked all the way to where the carriages were loaded, but hadn’t seen anything unusual or found any clues. Harry was ready to tear his hair out in frustration.

“Should we look for the Professor?” Hermione asked worriedly, glancing at Harry. He looked around again, wondering if it would be best to remain where they were and wait for the Professor to find them. It would make things easier on her if she knew where everyone was.

But what if they’d found something and that was why they hadn’t yet returned? Harry’s head snapped up at the thought.

“Come on,” he said, turning and heading back out the door. Hermione followed quickly, her face mirroring Harry’s anxiety. Once outside, he began walking west.

“You think they’re back at Zonko’s?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

“We missed something, we must have. There’s no way they just disappeared into thin air once they left Zonko’s,” Harry said, more to himself than to Hermione. They arrived in front of the now closed shop, and Harry walked over to the front display window. The usual assortment of Dungbombs, Exploding Snaps, Silly Bubs (cards that randomly changed suits and value), fake cans of Fizzing Whizzbees, and other joke gifts were displayed. He didn’t know Caleb Anderson very well, but of the three missing people Anderson was the only one Harry thought might be inclined to shop there. Ginny liked a good joke now and then, but she didn’t often buy gag products. Draco had no sense of humor, so Harry ruled him out instantly.

“Alright,” Hermione said briskly, “they left here and started walking to the carriages. Let’s walk slowly and see if we can recreate the moment.”

She and Harry began to walk casually down High Street, Harry peering at the ground closely for anything interesting. He stopped several times to pick up scraps of paper and stray pieces of metal, just in case they might mean something. But the paper was always garbage, and the metal was usually fizzy pop bottle tops or can fragments. Hermione continued to walk slowly, stopping once herself to examine an empty beer can. But Ginny didn’t drink Mansfield’s. They were nearing the Post Office when a male voice called out to them.

“Oy! Harry, Hermione!” It was Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” Harry called anxiously, he and Hermione running to meet him.

“Ron told us,” Fred said as soon as they reached him. “We talked to the bloke who owns Zonko’s, but so has everyone else. We were on our way over here to do a Traces Spell, but Dumbledore showed up. McGonagall’s with him now, and they’re heading over.”

No sooner had Fred finished speaking when the Hogwarts headmaster came striding up with Professor McGonagall, his long staff tapping the ground with every other step. George and Ron walked swiftly behind, Ron breaking into a run when he saw Harry.

“Anything, anything at all?” he asked desperately. Harry shook his head, looking at Dumbledore as he approached. The headmaster noticed that Harry was wearing almost the same expression as Ron.

“Harry, Hermione, any luck?” the Dumbledore asked them gravely. In response to their negative replies, he began walking back towards Zonko’s.

“We’ve been there a hundred times, Professor!” Ron said in a strangled voice.

“I am aware of that, Mr. Weasley,” the headmaster said gently. “The location spell I’m about to do needs a starting point, however. And since the joke shop was the last place they were seen, I think it would make sense to go back there.”

Ron’s ears flushed red and he went quiet. In a few minutes they had reached the shop once again. Dumbledore then pulled out his wand and began waving it over the door and above the ground in front of the door, until he was several feet away from the shop window.

“Something here,” he murmured. “A trace of someone familiar.”

They all watched anxiously as Dumbledore lifted his wand and spoke.

“Praeter reperire!” he cried, and the air suddenly felt heavy, almost static. Harry turned his gaze uneasily around, feeling his skin prickle with the presence of ...old magic. A power that felt older than the headmaster, older than the city itself, as old as the hills when they had felt the tramp of Celtic feet on their crowns. Dumbledore raised his hands above his head and spoke again.

“Reperire persona! Ambactus Malfoy, ambactus Anderson, puera Weasley!” The headmaster invoked deep magic, as secretive as the fairies of the Forbidden Forest and as powerful as the sight of a Unicorn to human eyes. The air grew heavier, more electric than before, and Ron stared apprehensively as he saw three small wisps of smoke rise from the ground. Harry watched in awe as Dumbledore waved his wand over the growing smoke, almost directing them as they expanded in size. They began to fill out and form into the shadowy shapes of Ginny, Draco, and Caleb Anderson. Everyone watched in fascination as the shapes took on density and detail, right down to the little braids Ginny liked to weave in her hair. They finished forming and began walking slowly away, the group -- except Dumbledore -- staring dumbly after them.

“Move back, George!” McGonagall barked when he walked right up to the ghostly images.

“Calm yourself, Minerva.” The headmaster smiled slightly, as the group began to follow the shadowy figures. Phantom Ginny appeared to be speaking harshly to Phantom Caleb, her face set in a frown and her hands gesturing expansively. At one point she stopped and lifted her foot, gesturing to it, and Phantom Caleb seemed to shake his head. Harry went up beside the smoky figure of Draco, noting that the familiar smirk was firmly in place. He seemed somehow angry, and Harry wondered what he was thinking about until he recollected that this was a phantom image.

Still, it was the eeriest thing Harry had ever seen, like watching the ghosts of people you actually knew. He remembered seeing Cedric’s ghost materialize out of Voldemort’s wand, looking as grey and ethereal as the three figures before him. Harry fervently hoped all three were still alive and that this vision wasn’t a twisted prediction. Ron was on Phantom Caleb’s other side, watching Ginny’s expression with concern.

“She’s mad about something,” he murmured.

Quite suddenly, all three figures stopped and whirled around. Everyone halted, looked back the way they had come, as if there they’d see what had caught their attention. Ron frowned when he saw Ginny shrink against Malfoy, and almost scowled as Malfoy’s hand came up and gripped her shoulder. But he had the presence of mind to realize that something had frightened her.

“It was a person,” Fred grunted. “Someone they knew but didn’t like.”

“Anderson doesn’t look scared,” George added.

“He’s confused, so it wasn’t anyone he knew,” Hermione said to the headmaster. “But who would Ginny and Malfoy know that he wouldn’t? We all go to the same school, and Malfoy and Anderson are in the same House.”

“There would be few possibilities,” Dumbledore replied. “Do you know anyone that has had contact with both Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley, but not many other students?”

“Albus?” McGonagall frowned, interrupting. A moment later, Hermione gasped. The Weasleys and Harry whirled around towards the sound.

“Who, who was it?” Ron stared at Hermione with wide eyes. But at that moment, the spectral figures took off at a run. Ginny went first, seeming to run in slow motion, then Draco grabbed Caleb’s sleeve and followed. The group rushed after them.

They only had to follow for a short distance. The figures had turned into an alley next to the Post Office.

“The carriages load on that street, down there,” Harry observed, following Dumbledore cautiously. The headmaster had slowed, and a split second later the phantom Ginny stopped running abruptly, turning to the opposite wall with wide, frightened eyes. The figures of Draco and Caleb stopped just behind her. Ginny appeared to speak again, then suddenly Draco pulled out his wand, as did Caleb, both advancing menacingly towards the spot in front of Ginny.

It seemed then that an invisible hand came from above and squashed Draco down, and he disappeared in a shower of purple sparks. A moment later Caleb turned and seemed to shout before he stumbled or was pushed roughly, then also disappeared. Lastly Ginny threw her fist out in front of her, turning quickly to run again. Just as Ron was about to follow the figure, she was jerked backwards and vanished.

“It seems our young friends were lured into a trap,” Dumbledore said softly. “A trap set by someone they knew.”

“But who was it?” Ron choked, his heart still hammering after seeing the way Ginny had been yanked back.

“It was Elizabeth,” Hermione said fearfully. “She’s the only person that makes sense!”

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione as if she’d lost her mind.

“That’s impossible!” Harry declared roughly. “Remus told us that she’d renounced her ties with …with her former family. He trusts her! So do you, Professor!”

“I have been wrong before Harry,” Dumbledore said delicately, his blue eyes fixed upon the spot where Ginny had disappeared. “Admittedly not often, but I have on occasion misjudged the intentions of others.”

The headmaster suddenly pointed his staff at an object on the ground, which George pounced on. It was a bag bearing the Zonko’s logo.

“It’s full of Dungbombs,” George frowned, “and a card…”

Fred grabbed the card and pulled out his own wand. “Lumos!”

“What does it say?” McGonagall demanded.

They could see that the front of the card bore a miniature painting of a bouncing dragon, almost cartoonish in appearance. The heading above it read, “All Apologies”.

“It says, ‘Sorry for the inconvenience’, that’s all. It’s a new card, nothing’s written inside it, so who knows what it was for, or who.”

“It’s Anderson’s,” Harry said. “I’m sure of that. He was the one who dropped something. Let me try a spell.”

Harry took the card and dropped it into the bag, then pulled out his own wand and murmured a Detection incantation over it. The small, smoky image of a crest appeared, bearing an Adder wrapped around a tall tree.

“That is, indeed, the Anderson family crest. Well done Harry.” Dumbledore beamed.

“But… where does Elizabeth fit into all of this?” Ron asked in frustration.

“She knows Malfoy,” Hermione explained , her face set in an angry expression. “And she knows Ginny because I introduced them at the Quidditch game she and Lupin attended. It all fits! Not many of the students know her, but anyone who’s been investigating the attacks on Malfoy does!”

Ron turned to the headmaster. “Where’s Lupin?”

“At the Shrieking Shack, Ron,” the headmaster replied. “Have you not noticed the moon?”

Harry snapped his gaze towards the sky, spotting the round, fat moon climbing over the horizon.

“We must inform him immediately,” Dumbledore murmured. “Harry, would you be so good as to fetch him? He’s quite safe, I assure you. And please tell Professor Snape to come as well.”

“I don’t think we have time…” Ron began.

“Relax, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore smiled. “The Potions Master is at the Shack, at my request. Although,” his eyes twinkled, “I imagine he’s most anxious to be relieved of his duty.”

Harry nodded and sprinted off towards the Shrieking Shack.

****************

Ginny stared around her at the drafty barn, once again struggling to wriggle free of the ropes that bound her to a broad wooden support post. She’d been struggling for some time now, and she could feel her raw skin being ripped away, blood dripping down into her hands. Caleb and Draco were tied to a post near her, Draco’s hands bound around the lower half of the post, Caleb’s tied over his head to prevent the two young men from freeing each other. Caleb didn’t find his wriggling to be very effective; his bum wasn’t even touching the ground due to how high they’d raised his hands. They’d also tied his feet to a large and heavy crate nearby, making it impossible for him to do anything except hang there.

“I can’t feel my hands anymore,” he said in a conversational manner to Draco. “This is most unpleasant!”

Draco pursed his lips and turned as much as he could towards his companion. “Yes it is, since they didn’t bother to gag you.”

“Touché, Mr. Malfoy.” Caleb grinned. “I’m beginning to think you’re tiring of my company, and after the lovely day we’ve been having!”

“Will you two please stop bickering?” Ginny snapped, twisting her arms and trying desperately to get the ropes to loosen. “We need to get out of here before they return or we’ll find ourselves in the middle of London with no way back!”

“Well, Miss Weasley, having never been kidnapped before, I’m afraid I can offer little in the way of ideas or assistance,” Draco replied wryly.

“Can you at least make an effort to get free? And don’t call me that!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been trying your method, but my wrists are now devoid of skin, so I’m attempting to think of something else.” Draco chuckled, smiling slightly as he regarded her. Or rather, what he could see of her, as she was facing away from him. “And what should I call you instead? Gin?”

“Would you please take this seriously?” Ginny squeaked, trying not to make too much noise and ignoring his question.

“Miss Weasley, we’ve been kidnapped by vampires who intend to haul us miles from the school for some dastardly purpose they refuse to reveal. Do you really think we’re not serious?” Caleb asked.

“Well…let’s just try a bit harder, shall we?” Ginny renewed her struggles, and thought she felt the ropes loosen slightly. Draco gathered his long legs under him and attempted to try and rise. The way his arms were wrapped around the broad pillar caused him to hope that gaining a slight purchase would make it easier to twist his arms and grab a loose end of rope. If not, then he’d most likely break his arms.

“Either way,” he murmured.

“Does anyone know where we actually are?” Ginny asked in a strained voice, more to keep herself calm while she struggled than anything else.

“Edinburgh,” Caleb replied. “I’m familiar with this area. My cousin Carter lives a few miles from here.”

“Do you know what property we’re on?” Draco asked, grunting with the effort of trying to rise and contort himself at the same time.

“I’m afraid not, but we passed an old church about a mile before we arrived, and I do remember it. Old St. Alexander’s, it’s called. She and I used to dash through there and play games.”

“She?” Draco asked, gritting his teeth with exertion.

“Yes, Carter is a girl. She and her friend Lauren are Ravenclaws.” Caleb smiled, though his companions couldn’t see.

Ginny’s wrists felt as if they had been burnt raw, and her eyes filled with tears as she tried to keep her frustration and fear from overpowering her again. There was no time for hysterics -- they had to get free! She thought back to when they had arrived at the barn several hours before, feeling her heart thud as she remembered Caleb leaping out of the carriage door and trying to make a run for it. Unfortunately he hadn’t gone more than a few steps before the Celt had literally flown after him, scooping him up exactly as he had Ginny back in Hogsmeade. When Caleb had continued to struggle, the Celt had clamped his hand over Caleb’s mouth and nose. The young man had flailed wildly, finally falling unconscious from oxygen deprivation before the vampire had released him. Ginny had been grabbed by the carriage driver and carried into the barn, Relah following with Draco. They’d been quickly tied up and left alone with Elizabeth, who had crawled weakly into a far shadowy corner and collapsed. Ginny hoped she was deathly ill.

Grimacing in pain, Ginny gave a mighty pull on her right wrist, her body bowing as her feet scrambled to find purchase, and she felt the ropes loosen further. Collapsing back down she felt her heart hammer with exhaustion and fresh hope. There had been no sound from Elizabeth for quite some time, and the barn was dark except for a measly bit of moonlight filtering in through the cracks. Ginny didn’t know what was wrong with Elizabeth, but she hoped the woman was asleep or too sick to do anything if they got free. It didn’t matter, because Ginny refused to just sit there and not try to escape. After a moment she once again set to twisting and rotating her hands around, feeling her heart pound faster when she felt her left wrist actually begin to slip through.

Ginny’s concentration narrowed, her breath almost stilling with the strain. Her skin had already been scraped away, and it was quite an effort to ignore the pain, but she just kept repeating “We have to get free, we have to!” and continued pulling.

Draco opened his eyes, about ready to give up again when he spotted Ginny’s left wrist moving slowly out of its loop. His eyes widened, and he stilled his own struggles. Her wrists were bloody and had made the rope somewhat slick, which probably accounted for her partial success. So that’s how people in ropes get free, he thought, they just make sure to peel every layer of skin off in order to bleed all over their bindings.

Fascinating concept.

“Keep going,” he whispered, watching intently as her wrist, the skin white from blood loss and the constriction of the rope, slipped out a tiny bit more.

“What did you say?” Caleb asked, his voice sounding loud in the silence that had descended. Draco started, then angrily shushed him. Caleb frowned and tried to twist around to look at his companion, but only managed to pull a muscle in his shoulder. He winced in pain and silently cursed the entire planet for his predicament.

Ginny had her left hand halfway out of the rope, and narrowed her concentration even further. All she had to do was slip the knuckle of her thumb out... She could feel her skin peeling off as she pulled, but she continued, ignoring the pain. We must get out of here, we must! She thought wildly.

Her hand came free so suddenly that it ricocheted around and popped her forehead.

“Yes!” Draco cried as she collapsed against the post, gasping. Her jaw ached from having clenched her teeth so hard, and her wrists were in agony. But she was free.

“What’s happened?” Caleb asked anxiously, hearing Ginny’s gasps of pain.

“She’s done it, she’s free!” Draco replied with a strange note of pride in his voice. He grinned madly as she quickly sat up, pulled the ropes off of her other hand, then crawled over to him.

“She is?” Caleb asked in surprise. “Bloody clever, isn’t she?”

“Well, bloody at any rate,” Ginny replied shakily. She sat in front of Draco, trying to get her numb fingers to loosen the knots on his rope. She was trembling with exhaustion and dirty from her struggles. Draco stared, her soft vulnerability slightly disconcerting after watching the Herculean effort she’d put forth in freeing herself. He noticed the golden freckles that dotted her cheeks, and her fiery hair falling in waves around her pale, tear streaked face. He’d never known anyone could be so beautiful.

“Ginny,” he whispered.

“I’ve almost got it,” she said weakly. “Just pull a bit, pull your wrist.”

“Ginny,” he said again, louder.

“What is it?” She turned to him, and got the shock of her life when his lips descended upon hers.

Ginny’s breath escaped her, and her heart thundered as a searing heat spread from her chest to the rest of her body. She felt herself lean into Draco, her lips molding to his and her trembling increasing as she felt his tongue invade her mouth. He tasted warm and sweet, like hot chocolate on a cold afternoon. Hesitantly, she lifted her own tongue to dance and intertwine with his, shivering as he responded with increased pressure, his tongue darting out again to trace her lips. It was hardly her first kiss, but it was the first time she’d felt so electrified by the act. Her body began to come alive; a keen awareness of her womanhood awakening, and her nerves tingled with delicious shock as he increased the pressure even further.

“Do you mind?” Caleb snapped angrily, causing them to fly apart. “I’d really like to get out of here! You two can think about shagging once we’re back at Hogwarts, all right?”

Ginny looked at Caleb with wide eyes, her face flushed and a bloody hand pressed to her mouth. Draco felt the heat in his own face, as well as other places, and gritted his teeth.

“Do you mind not shouting?” he snapped.

“I didn’t shout,” Caleb retorted.

“Stop it, both of you” Ginny whispered. “They’ll hear us!”

Ginny quickly set about freeing Draco, concentrating on his bonds and not looking at him. Her mind was numb with shock, but she refused to think about what had just happened. She couldn’t afford to think at the moment, because if she did she knew she would either dance with joy or faint with horror. And at the moment, she wasn’t sure which. Once she got Draco free, she turned her attention to Caleb, wincing when she saw the position he was in.

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, yanking at his bonds.

“Ouch! Not really, but let’s just worry about getting me out of this,” he replied with a weak grin.

She returned to the task, calling Draco to help her. He sat a moment, watching her concentrate while he rubbed his raw wrists. She certainly seemed unaffected by what had just happened. Hadn’t his kiss meant anything to her? He didn’t grace many girls with such a privilege, after all!

“Draco,” she frowned at him, “help me!”

He crawled over and began yanking rather hard on the ropes.

“Ouch! Are you trying to skin me?” Caleb scowled.

“Stop whining, you’ll be free in a moment,” Draco replied coldly.

“Maybe not,” a voice said from above them.

“Oh, bugger!” Caleb sighed.

All three heads snapped up, Draco automatically reaching for his wand before remembering he no longer had it. Relah grinned madly at them as she sidled down the post like some grotesque, human shaped insect. Ginny felt her heart contract painfully, tears once again flooding her eyes. They had been so close!

“No, Miss Weasley, you weren’t,” Relah laughed, proving she could read minds. “I’ve been watching your pathetic struggles for the past hour. And then that sweet little kiss.” Her voice rose mockingly. “I must say, I’ve rarely been so entertained!”

“What do you want with us?” Ginny shrieked in fury, her tears blinding her.

“I really don’t care to repeat myself, Miss Weasley. Now please stand up and back away from your friend there. No silly heroics, now.”

Ginny and Draco stood slowly and backed away, Relah pointing menacingly at them. The Vampire woman moved forward then, and with a single tug tore the bonds holding Caleb’s arms. His rear thudded audibly to the ground, and he doubled over as the blood pounded painfully back into his numb hands.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she laughed. Ginny rushed forward and dropped to the ground beside Caleb, grabbing his wrists and massaging them gently.

“You’ll be all right,” she said softly, focusing on his agony in order to push away her own. Draco crossed his arms and watched them neutrally, while Relah stepped back. peering into several of the dark corners.

“Damnit!” the Vampire woman swore softly. Turning quickly, she addressed her three charges.

“I have to step out for a moment, children, but I trust you won’t be so foolish as to try and escape. If you do, please believe me when I say that you won’t live to regret it!”

Punctuating her cruel words with a bright smile, Relah turned and literally jumped to the upper loft. A moment later she was gone, having leaped out a tiny window soundlessly. Draco stared at the window for a moment, then turned wordlessly and headed for the barn door.

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked in shock.

“Away from here,” he replied simply.

“Wait,” Ginny called after him, trying to untie Caleb’s feet, “wait for us!”

But Draco didn’t wait. If anything he walked even faster, banging the old wooden door behind him. He paused a moment as he heard Ginny’s voice scream his name in fear and anger, then quickly resumed his trek.

The full moon’s silvery light illuminated the various paths from the barn, and Draco was sure that what he sought would be near. He stared around carefully, taking in the nearby woods, the small house, and the smelly pen attached to the barn. Peering closely he counted five dead pigs, and shuddered in disgust as he walked past. The Celt was probably in the house along with the original occupants, if they were still alive. His father had been wrong, the vampires weren’t in Wales, they were here, in Scotland. Then again, Lucius Malfoy had probably known that all along. Running as fast as he could, Draco headed for the woods. It was the most obvious place…

He slowed as he approached the trees, cursing the fact that he didn’t have his wand with him. The pale moonlight was filtering through the trees well enough, but he still had to strain his eyes to search for what he knew would be there. It had to be there, because he didn’t have time to look elsewhere. There was only one way they were going to get the lot of them to London fairly quickly, and Draco somehow knew the vampires were working on a time schedule. He’d seen them use it before, and he strongly suspected they had it here.

There! Draco spied what looked to be a pile of garbage and headed over to it, digging eagerly through its contents. Paper, empty jugs and bottles, several dead animals which made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. He tossed and shoved everything aside, digging deeper into the refuse. Empty boxes, old and torn clothing… a human body.

“Shit!” he cried, jumping back.

Draco felt his heart pounding in his throat. There, at the bottom of the pile, was the partially decayed body of a boy. He looked to have been around Draco’s age, or a bit younger. His face was frozen in a look of horror, his mouth open in a silent scream. Draco felt cold sweat break out all over his body. Slowly, he walked towards the corpse, afraid to make a sound as if doing so would wake the restless soul of the boy, sending it screaming into the blackness of eternity. He’d had brown hair, with a stocky, muscular body. Most of his clothing was gone, and Draco could make out deep scratches and gashes over his arms and across his chest. The body was bloated with gases, and Draco’s nostrils were filled with the stench of decay. Goose bumps broke out over Draco’s skin, and he felt his stomach roil.

And there it was, rolled up neatly next to the boy’s body. The Flying Carpet.

Draco stared in horror. In order to reach the Carpet, he was going to have to practically climb over the body! That bloated, lifeless, staring corpse. Turning quickly, he became violently sick.

He vomited out everything in his stomach, which wasn’t much. Even after everything had come gushing out, his stomach continued to twist and cramp, the painful dry heaves wracking his frame. It was several minutes before Draco was able to regain control of himself.

After a few moments, he walked back over to the garbage pile and stared hard at the boy’s body. This is death, he thought. This is what comes to the enemies of Voldemort, and to all of us eventually. This boy had died in fear and pain, and Draco felt chills race up his spine. What had he seen? A pair of vampires, most likely. Grinning and exposing their razor sharp teeth as they reached out greedily for the lifeblood pumping in his veins. A vivid mental image of the scene rose sharply in Draco’s mind, and he quickly banished it, feeling his stomach heave threateningly. What was the justification for ending such a young life? Weren’t predators supposed to target the old and infirm? Did the hunter ever ask permission of its prey? Did it need to? Moving closer, Draco wondered if the boy had had a family, and if they missed him.

Did the Death Eaters ever wonder such things when they killed? Did they care that the lives they snuffed out were things separate from the purposes of the Dark Lord? Did it matter, in the end, if they took pleasure from the deaths they caused? Draco felt his head pound, and he shoved the soul-disturbing thoughts away. He didn’t have time for this. Reaching carefully across the boy’s body, he grabbed the Carpet and pulled.

Of course, it was much too heavy to pull out with one hand. Moving even closer, yet careful not to touch any part of the dead boy’s body, Draco tugged on the Carpet with both hands. It moved slightly, but he needed more leverage. He would have to move closer.

Draco closed his eyes in painful resignation and leaned further, feeling his middle touch the body, trying desperately to ignore it. Placing a foot on the bottom of the garbage heap to brace himself, he tugged with all of his strength. The carpet slid halfway out and stopped. Holding the end carefully, Draco grimaced as he leaned in closer and wrapped his arms one at a time around the Carpet’s mid section. Giving a final heave, he felt the heavy object pop free. It was so heavy, however, that it sent him falling backwards.

Along with the dead body.

Draco had only enough time to register the fact that the half-naked corpse was moving before it fell on him, face first. The shock was enormous, his breath leaving his body and his heart giving a single, painful thud. Draco felt his chest burn and his throat tighten as he stared into that lifeless face, his head swimming as he fancied he saw an accusation in the boy’s dead eyes. Then his breath returned in a painful gasp, and a moan of terror was ripped from his throat.

“Oh god! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh JESUS FUCK!!” he heard himself almost shrieking as he scrambled madly backwards. He hardly noticed what he bumped into, until it growled.

Once again he jumped and tried to scramble away, but the huge creature leaped on him, slamming him down with her huge paws and pinning him to the ground. The werewolf pushed its head into his face, growling loudly and baring its long, sharp teeth. Once again, he was trapped.

“Mr. Malfoy, you are becoming more trouble than you’re worth.” The voice of the Celt floated down to Draco’s ears. A moment later, he walked into Draco’s field of vision wearing an icy smile.

“You remember Ms. Morgan, don’t you?” he asked almost pleasantly, “because I’m sure she remembers you.”

Normal Raquel Dodd 2 9 2003-05-13T09:27:00Z 2003-05-13T09:27:00Z 1 2343 13360 111 31 15672 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter 14

Harry walked quickly behind the werewolf that was Remus Lupin, noting his agitated movements with caution. Lupin had seemed all right, greeting Harry quite joyfully with much pouncing and licking. But as Harry explained the situation to Professor Snape, the werewolf had become restless and nervous, prompting Harry to encourage the company of his least favorite professor.

It took little time to arrive back in the alley, but Harry found that only Hermione and Ron were there. He frowned, but before he could speak, Ron ran over to them and hurriedly explained that the Headmaster and everyone else had retreated to the Three Broomsticks to plan a course of action.

“How long ago did they leave?” Snape asked, frowning as well.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly the silence of the night was ripped by a piercing howl.

OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOO!!

Harry smacked his hands over his ears and turned to see Lupin standing on his furry hindquarters, his enormous head lifted to the sky and anger rolling off him in waves. It was a terrifying sight; the werewolf stood almost seven and a half feet tall. Harry felt fear grip his heart and he wanted nothing more than to run to the Three Broomsticks as fast as his legs could carry him. But it was Lupin, Remus Lupin; his father’s trusted friend, and a friend and mentor to Harry himself. Yet Harry couldn’t help but feel fear and confusion as Lupin slowly lowered himself to the ground. It was a shock, then, to hear Snape suddenly cry:

“Lupin, don’t!”

Harry looked over at the werewolf in surprise, just in time to see Lupin start running furiously away. Cursing loudly, Snape followed. Without thinking, Harry dashed after them both, followed closely by Ron and Hermione.

“Remus!” Harry cried, running as fast as he could to keep up with the immense, four legged creature. Snape was surprisingly fast himself, and was running close beside Harry. Lupin came to a halt in front of Dervish and Banges, and Harry stopped so fast he nearly tripped. Lupin stood on his hind quarters again and sniffed at the door, then lowered his head and sniffed the ground carefully. Ron and Hermione ran up then, gasping loudly.

“What…-“Ron began, but Snape cut him off.

“Not now, Weasley!” he snapped, then walked over to the werewolf. “Lupin, don’t be foolish! We can’t possibly pursue them on foot, they’ve too great a lead! They could be anywhere by now. Let’s go to the Headmaster and see what he has planned.”

Lupin growled deeply in his throat, barely glancing at the Potions Master before he continued sniffing the ground. Harry stared at Remus, his confusion slowly evaporating as he watched the werewolf try and capture the scent of his quarry. Perhaps this is better, he thought. He didn’t think that Dumbledore would be in favor of going after whoever had captured Ginny right away. Most likely he would want to contact the Ministry, and that could take ages. In the meantime, Ginny would move further and further out of reach. He could hear Ron’s agitated breathing behind him, and knew his best friend was thinking the same thing. But Hermione—

“The Professor’s right Remus,” Hermione said anxiously, not disappointing Harry’s expectations. “We can’t possibly hope to find them this way. We’d do better to see what the Headmaster has planned.”

“That’ll take too long!” Ron burst out. “We have to go now! Ginny doesn’t have a chance otherwise!”

Snape turned back to Ron, scowling. Harry knew that he was about to squelch the whole argument, and thought fast.

“Malfoy could be dead by now,” he said quickly. “Anderson as well. If they’re alive, we don’t have any time to lose.”

Snape turned a vicious glare on Harry, who almost quailed. Never let it be doubted, Harry thought in bemusement, that Snape can indeed freeze your blood!

“All right, young geniuses,” the Potions Master snapped, “just how do you propose we follow them? I don’t suppose either of you thought to bring your broomsticks?”

Harry blushed and tried to think of any way they could possibly follow the trail of the kidnappers quickly. He came up blank, however, and kicked a rock in frustration.

“I see,” Snape chuckled. Turning from them, the Professor looked down the darkened street and out into the dark hills beyond.

“A Flying Carpet would be ideal, but we don’t have one of those,” Snape murmured, then looked at Lupin, who was standing stiffly and also staring into the darkness.

“Do you have their scent? Do you know where they’ve gone?” he asked the werewolf. Lupin responded with a short whuff.

“You know everything, don’t you?” Snape looked at the werewolf in surprise now, and Harry stared at them both, puzzled. Did Snape actually understand Lupin’s wolfish growls? He wasn’t inclined to think so, but it seemed that some sort of communication was going on. Snape stared at the werewolf a moment longer, then turned and looked carefully at the entrance to the wizarding shop.

“Was this…part of the plan?” Snape asked softly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at the Professor. Lupin stalked around in a circle, then came to a stop right before the Snape, who scowled angrily.

“I don’t appreciate being left in the dark! And obviously more has gone wrong than you had anticipated, hasn’t it?” Snape looked ready to kill. Lupin whined and growled, then stood on his hindquarters again. The werewolf then turned and began scratching at the shop’s entrance.

“Very well,” the professor snapped. “Move away from the door!”

Lupin backed up to stand next to Harry as Snape walked over to the door, withdrawing his wand and pointing it at the handle.

“Alohamora Arcanus!” he said softly. A bright green light flared in the key hole for a moment, and they heard the door open with a click. Harry blinked in surprise.

“Well, follow me!” Snape barked at them, entering the shop quickly. The trio followed Snape as he walked purposefully towards the section of the store containing—

Brooms.

Harry blinked, but understood immediately. He stepped forward and grabbed a Nimbus 2002, the best broom Dervish and Banges stocked. He wished he had his Firebolt nonetheless, but they didn’t have time to run back to the castle. Harry watched as the Professor and Ron also grabbed brooms; Hermione, however, just stood there.

“Hurry up, Miss Granger,” Snape growled.

“I can’t,” she replied, white faced and trembling slightly. “I…I don’t…that is, I’m not very good at flying.”

“You can ride with me,” Ron said firmly, before Snape could respond harshly.

“Good,” Harry said a bit loudly. “Let’s go then!”

They all filed out of the shop, Snape stopping to lock the door again. Harry wondered how long it would take the shop owners to discover they’d been robbed, and vaguely hoped some opportunity to give the brooms back would present itself later.

“How will Lupin keep up?” Hermione asked anxiously, making the Potions Master smile coldly.

“We will be following him, Miss Granger. He knows where we’re supposed to go, and I’ll be able to see him even though night has fallen.”

Snape produced a small vial from a deep pocket in his robes. It contained a silvery red liquid, and Snape drained its contents immediately. The students watched as the professor shuddered for a moment, then rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hands, Harry gaped and Hermione gasped aloud. Snape’s eyes were now a glowing red, the pupils long and ovular. The Potions Master took a moment to enjoy the effect he was having on the Trio, then swung his leg over the broomstick. The others followed suit, Hermione gripping Ron hard enough to make him protest. Harry smiled a moment, then kicked off the ground.

The familiar exhilaration flowed through Harry as the wind whipped his hair. He would never love anything as much as he loved flying. Spotting Snape in the darkness, Harry pulled up alongside him, watching carefully as the Potions Master kept his eyes trained upon the ground.

“This way!” Snape shouted, maneuvering his broom to the left and heading south. Harry followed suit, and looked over to see Ron caught between a grin and a wince as Hermione held him in what seemed to be a death grip. Her face was buried in Ron’s shoulder, but Ron was handling his broom skillfully. They were on their way.

**************

Draco sighed and stretched, watching the werewolf sit and stare at him. At times it seemed that she was looking through him. He glared at her in disgust, unable to believe he hadn’t seen her for what she really was right from the beginning, sitting in the school infirmary.

The Celt had gone, probably to retrieve the others. He’d left Morgan in charge of him and had threatened to break Draco’s legs if he tried to escape again. The bitch growled, and Draco felt irritation flash through him as he remembered what had happened when he’d found himself under her paws…again!

“You remember Miss Morgan, don’t you?” the Celt had asked.

Ms. Morgan? Elizabeth Morgan was the werewolf? Draco had stared incredulously at the Celt before dissolving into bitter laughter.

“I should have guessed,” he’d grinned humorlessly.

“Indeed. Now be a good boy and come along back to the barn before I’m forced to report that we had to dispose of you.”

“Get the she-bitch off of me first!” Draco had growled in reply. The Celt had thrown his head back and laughed in amusement.

“My goodness, I do like you!” he’d chuckled, pulling on Morgan’s bristly ear. She crawled off Drano’s chest and he’d stood shakily, staring at them both with a dazed expression. Reality had definitely jumped out a window somewhere!

“You can carry the Carpet, since you worked so hard to get it free.” The vampire smirked, making Draco long to slam a shovel in his icy face. As Draco had gone to lift it, however, the Celt had changed his mind.

“Never mind boy,” he’d suddenly snapped. “I have a better idea.”

Draco dropped the Carpet and had turned to see the Celt frowning into the darkness, wary and alert.

“Guard him,” he’d said to the werewolf, “and if you try to disappear again boy, I will crush both of your legs so badly you won’t have anything but bone dust left in them. I mean that.”

Then he had flown off like a bat into the dark tree branches above. Draco was glad he’d left so quickly. He didn’t want the Celt knowing how much his threat had affected him. Now, as he sat against a tree and tried to ignore the dead boy who was still just a few feet away, Draco felt weariness and hunger pressing upon him. This had to be the longest day he’d ever known, and the end of it didn’t seem anywhere close. The she wolf was still watching him like she expected him to try and run any second. He had to suppress the urge to throw a rock at her.

“Don’t suppose your boyfriend will be terribly pleased with you,” he said coolly, wanting to goad her in some way. “I’ll bet the first thing he does is cut up your picture.”

She sniffed the air, but otherwise didn’t react, irritating Draco. So he tried again.

“Oh, was he in on it? Hard to believe. Lupin’s always been such a do-gooder, especially where Potter’s concerned.” Draco spat out Potter like a curse, and felt his mouth curl as he thought of his longtime rival. Morgan paused, seeming to stare at Draco with curiosity. Encouraged, Draco continued to ramble.

“Yes, I always suspected a certain amount of arse licking going on, especially since he knew the brat’s father.” Morgan growled finally, and Draco grinned with triumph. Part of him sensed that he was going to regret this, but he was tired of being kicked around by these monsters.

“Tell me, were they as close as I always thought? Did they share you perhaps? I wouldn’t be…“

Morgan leaped forward suddenly with a loud snap of her jaws, causing Draco to jump and fall sideways. When he looked up he saw her eyes glowing red, boring furiously down upon him. Draco’s heart pounded hard, and he saw the boy’s body again out of the corner of his eye.

I guess this is the part where I regret it, he thought in resignation. Somehow, this revenge hadn’t proven too sweet at all. The werewolf’s growls grew louder, and her face pressed close to Draco’s. He closed his eyes, waiting for the bite or the swipe of her huge paw as cold sweat poured down his back.

But no, the growls that he heard weren’t just hers. Draco distinctly heard another deep growl coming from behind her, and he opened his eyes. At first all he saw was Morgan’s face, or more specifically, her toothy maw. But then she crawled away from him and turned to look behind her. A large black, four legged shape, with eyes reflecting the silver moonlight, seemed to walk from the shadows towards her. Morgan sniffed the ground warily, then trotted to meet the animal and whuffed quietly. Draco strained his eyes to see what it was, but Morgan seemed to be in some sort of communication with it, and her body blocked his view. Sitting up, Draco squinted harder, guessing that it might be another wolf until it walked into a patch of moonlight and looked at him.

It was a dog. A large black, scruffy dog.

Draco blinked, wondering why the dog was acting so peculiarly. It wasn’t attacking him, and wasn’t trying to play with him or beg for food, as strays often did. It just stood and stared at him in consideration, and Draco felt goose bumps rise along his arms.

An animagus, perhaps? Draco stood slowly, his eyes never leaving the animal.

“Who are you?” he asked in what he hoped was a commanding voice.

The dog barked softly, then turned back to Morgan and they seemed to communicate again. Draco’s suspicion that the creature was an animagus strengthened, and he wondered what the hell was happening now. Suddenly both animals stiffened and looked towards the barn. A moment later, the dog shot off into the darkness and disappeared. Draco heard voices then, and was startled when a hand fell heavily upon his shoulder. Roughly, he was turned about to face the Celt.

“Not a word about the dog,” he hissed. “Not if you want to live!”

Draco blinked, his heart once again threatening to burst from his chest. The Celt hissed sibilantly.

“Your word, boy!” His grip tightened, and Draco winced in pain as he nodded quickly.

“Laighlinne?” Relah’s voice floated over to them. “I have them.”

“Good,” the Celt called back in reply. “I must feed before we go.”

Relah emerged from the shadows with Ginny and Caleb, dragging each along by their collars. She laughed at Laighlinne’s words.

“Take this one.” She tossed Caleb to the ground in front of the Celt. “He’s a useless extra, and rather tiresome.”

Morgan growled, and Laighlinne smirked. “He may yet prove valuable. Morgan will guard them. Come.”

But Relah frowned at him. “They have tried numerous times to escape. She cannot watch all three.”

Laighlinne smiled and clapped a hand upon Draco’s shoulder. “I know this one will not try it again, because he knows what I will do to him. As for those two…”

Laighlinne walked slowly forward, dragging Draco with him, until he was in front of Ginny; he stooped to look her in the eye. She glared defiantly back.

“You won’t try to leave either, pretty one,” he said softly to her, and Ginny’s expression became fixed as her face paled, “because you have no choice but to stay.”

Without warning, Laighlinne stomped sideways into Draco’s tibia, and the sick sound of bones cracking mingled with Draco’s strangled cry of pain. Ginny screamed and burst into tears, catching Draco as he fell. Relah began to laugh with delight.

“Well, at least I’ve left you with more than just dust,” the Celt murmured cheerfully to Draco before leaping into the trees above. Relah pointed to Caleb, and Morgan quickly took up a position next to him as the female vampire leaped into the trees after Laighlinne.

Raquel Dodd Normal Raquel Dodd 2 2 2003-06-18T09:13:00Z 2003-06-18T09:13:00Z 1 2478 14125 117 33 16570 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Ginny held a heavily gasping Draco as she gingerly touched his leg. He nearly cried out as she tried to lift his trouser leg, and Ginny winced. Caleb crawled over and, to Ginny’s surprise, took Draco’s hand.

“My dear Housemate, you look like shit.” Caleb said with forced cheer. Draco grinned, his eyes tightly shut and sweat pouring from his trembling form.

“Thank you, and remind me to repay the compliment once I can focus.” He quipped back. Ginny frowned slightly, but was grateful that Draco was being distracted. She continued to pull up his trouser leg, then wished she hadn’t.

“Bugger!” Caleb swore softly, and Draco opened his eyes.

“I don’t want to know,” he said shakily, “just see what you can do.”

“I’m not sure,” Ginny replied in a low voice. At least she’d stopped crying, which was a good thing. Her eyes were painfully swollen, and she was pretty sure she’d run out of tears. She wasn’t sorry for that because looking at Draco’s leg in any other circumstance would have thrown her into hysterics.

The bone was poking out a tad to the side, but hadn’t quite broken the skin. She knew it would have to be set properly, but she also knew it was going to be very painful for Draco. The thought of having to set it made Ginny nauseous. She knew basic medical treatments, but she had no potions and her wand was currently with the Celt. This would have to be done the Muggle way. Though she had a vague idea of how the bone should be set, she had no idea if she would be able to set it properly with one push or how many pieces the bone had been broken into. That would be important, she knew. She turned to regard him, wondering if he’d have the strength to endure it.

Draco’s face had gone almost white, and his lips were bloodless as his teeth bit down into them. He was sweating profusely, the dim moon light giving his face an ironically dewy appearance. A wounded angel.

Why was she feeling sorry for him when he’d run out on her and Caleb? Why was Caleb so ready to forgive him? Weren’t Slytherins about vengeance and all that? She stared at his face, felt a burning begin in her chest and her throat close.

How could he? How could he just…go?

Caleb tried to run as well, a voice reminded her, you didn’t get angry at him. You were hoping he’d get away.

That was true. Why was she angry at Draco for doing the same?

Because things have gotten worse, she thought, looking away from them, and because now I don’t want to be alone! He wasn’t injured and helpless, he could have stayed and we would have all gotten away! I didn’t try to run without them!

Her mind flew dizzily back to the barn, back to that moment when he’d rocked her existence. He’d taken something from her then, when she’d least expected it. Her defenses had been down, and he’d swooped in for the conquest. The burning in her chest increased, spreading to her stomach. Bastard! It was always about him. I want to kiss you, then I’ll leave you here, it’s as easy as that. She felt herself trembling with irrational anger.

“This is going to hurt,” she said stiffly, trying to control her flaring temper.

“What is?” Draco looked at her in alarm, “Are you going to set it?”

“I’m going to try,” she replied quickly, “but I’m not sure if I can do it. I just wanted to warn you that it was going to hurt.”

Draco cursed, “Weasley, if you don’t know what you’re doing then please don’t even try!”

“We’re not going to get anywhere with you in this state,” she snapped, “You can’t even stand!”

“I’m sure the bastard will take care of it once he returns,” Caleb offered, “right royal prick, he is!”

“I don’t want to wait for them to return, this is-“she stopped abruptly, glancing at Morgan. Both young men understood her immediately, and Caleb began to laugh.

“Weasley, I figure this little outing’s cracked you!” he chortled. “What are you going to do; yell at her to move?”

Ginny scowled, feeling her blood begin to boil. “This is probably going to be our last chance,” she hissed. “When they come back we’re off to London for sure! We won’t have another opportunity!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Draco hissed back, biting his lip as another spasm of pain shot through him, “you can’t overpower her, and you certainly aren’t going to trick her. Just face facts, we’re stuck for now.”

“We’re not stuck!” Ginny yelled, then flinched as Morgan growled menacingly and trotted over to them. She stood right next to Ginny and began to sniff her, which made the red head furious.

“Get away from me,” she cried, roughly pushing the werewolf’s muzzle. Morgan snapped her jaws, and Ginny reared backwards, throwing her hands out behind her to prevent herself from falling on her bum. She shook uncontrollably as the werewolf’s cold nose brushed her cheek, causing Ginny to turn her face away. Ginny could see the rows of sharp, long teeth in her peripheral, and felt herself break out in cold sweat at the thought of those teeth sinking into her vulnerable flesh. Finally, after Ginny’s heart began to beat so fast she feared it would burst, Morgan backed away.

“Good call, Weasley,” Caleb drawled. “now tell her she’s ugly.”

Ginny was too busy staring at the werewolf to respond. But Morgan seemed satisfied that everything was as it should be, however, and with one last menacing growl at Ginny, walked away and flopped down next to a tree, watching them warily with her strange, green-brown eyes. Ginny silently expelled the breath she’d been holding, then jumped when a hand smacked down on her wrist, gripping it tightly.

“Just what do you think you’re going to accomplish by confronting her like that?” Draco hissed, his face contorted in an angry frown.

Ginny yanked her arm away, clenching her teeth as her face flushed. “At least I got rid of her!”

“Getting rid of her wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t called attention to yourself in the first place,” Caleb glared.

Ginny felt her emotional dam burst, and fury flooded her being, blinding her in a haze of red;

“Well at least I did something constructive instead of running off and leaving you to die!” She growled, her throat burning from the effort to keep from screaming in rage.

“If that’s your idea of constructive, Weasley, I’ll thank you to leave me out of your plans,” Draco snapped.

“Like you left us out of yours?” she cried, unable to hold back any longer.

“What?” Draco’s frown grew deeper.

“Don’t act so ignorant,” she hissed, shaking like a wind blown leaf. “you ran off and left us to face everything alone! Well maybe I’m not sorry you got your leg broken, you filthy bastard! Now you can’t run away and save your own hide, we’re in this together!”

It was a horrible thing to say, Ginny knew, but she was beyond reason and simply wanted to retaliate by hurting him as much as watching him walk so casually out of the barn had hurt her. She felt a stab of uncertainty a moment later, however, as his pale face suddenly calmed, and his grey eyes narrowed to slits. Very slowly Draco began to rise, the muscles in his face tensing with pain, but his expression remaining ice cold, and distant as the moon. Soon he was sitting up and facing her directly, Caleb’s suddenly neutral face next to his. Somehow, Draco seemed to have grown, towering over her even though they were on the ground. Her uncertainty grew, like a sudden burst of cold water over her hot temper. After a moment he spoke, his voice as frosty as his expression;

“Ran off?” he hissed, trembling slightly, “Since when am I responsible for you? Or has the high and mighty Weasel decided that I fall short of regal nobility?”

“I wouldn’t have left you,” she snapped defensively, wondering why she was feeling foolish.

“You assume I was running off, when the reality is you’re too stupid to know a real opportunity when it’s before you!” Draco continued, sneering in contempt.

Ginny’s head snapped to him, hot words ready to tumble off her tongue. But they died instantly when her eyes fell on Draco. His face was practically white, and he was trembling with the effort of sitting up. His right hand was balled into a fist and pressed against his stomach; his left was behind him, propping him up. Sweat was pouring off of him again, and he was gasping slightly. His eyes, however, remained steadily fixed on her, and his lips were pulled back in an angry snarl.

“Who am I?” Draco asked softly, staring intently into her eyes.

The question startled Ginny. Her mouth opened to reply, but she didn’t understand what he meant. He was Draco Malfoy, but she had a feeling that wasn’t what he was asking.

Draco’s stare intensified, which frightened Ginny. She felt her heart begin to pound and her eyes blink rapidly as he leaned closer to her and spoke again.

“Who are we?” he whispered softly, the undertone of menace chilling her blood and replacing her anger with confusion. What did he mean, who are we? Did he mean both him and Caleb? She frowned in confusion, looking from Draco to Caleb and back again. Who were they, or what did they have in common?

Common…

Her eyes fell on the patch sewn onto the front of Caleb’s robe, the same patch Draco bore on his own chest. A silver field with a green serpent.

“Sl-Slytherin,” she murmured, rocking back on her haunches because he was now very close, and she could feel the anger pouring off of him.

“SLYTHERIN!” he spat, rocking forward suddenly and making her gasp, “Slytherin and proud of it! Not a brainiac Ravenclaw with their heads so deep in their books they forget to take notice of the real world, not a fool Hufflepuff who works his fingers to the bone for precious little thanks and no recognition, and especially not an idiot Gryffindor whose honor comes before his life!”

“Stop,” Ginny whispered, frightened by the glazed look in his eyes, and feeling chills race down her spine as his gaze sought to pin her like a moth to a board, “I…I’m sorry—“

“You neurotic morons want to die for your honor, that’s just fine with me,” Draco continued, seeming deaf to her pleas, “but we won’t, we’ll live. You will fight to the death for a principle or an idea, but we use our intelligence and cunning to live, and we’ll be standing over your broken bodies when all is said and done!”

“You want to stay here and get yourself killed trying to get us all out of here Weasley, you go right ahead.” He was really spitting now, and Ginny fell on her backside as he pushed his face roughly into hers, “But I will look for an escape, and I will take it if it comes. Maybe I’ll be able to send help, or maybe I’ll just have to mourn, but I won’t stay still and waste my time trying to drag a useless sack of dead weight with me. That’s me, that’s who I am!”

Ginny was shaking uncontrollably, staring at Draco as he gasped in pain and fury. His eyes bored into hers as he leaned slowly back, his face flushed from pain and and his slowly ebbing temper. Caleb was looking at her through slightly narrowed eyes, a small but cold smile playing about his lips. Draco’s words echoed in her mind; you’ll die, but we’ll live!

Any means to achieve their ends. And escape was the end they sought now. She felt stupid as she stared unseeing at them both. If the opportunity to escape came, they would take it. Yet she was still here when she could have run back in the barn. Although considering everything she couldn’t have, as Relah had said she’d been there the entire time. Ginny slowly turned her eyes back to Draco, really looking at him for perhaps the first time. He was leaning back again, his eyes no longer lit with intensity, but still regarding her with an unnerving steadiness.

This is who I am.

A Slytherin; Ambitious, opportunistic, cunning, and ruthless. All in a day’s work, really. Yet these were the same young men she’d spent a very pleasant day with in Hogsmeade, who’d made her laugh and had touched her with the small exposures of their souls. Draco, especially, had touched her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Images flashed in her mind; Draco cracking his skull on the kitchen hearth, Draco standing with the irritating Pansy, giving her a small, special smile. Draco standing before the lake, his pain obvious in his stance, Draco smiling in amusement as peasant Weasley tried to order from an overpriced menu and his reassuring hand on her shoulder when Elizabeth had come running over to them. All of these images she never thought she’d see, all of the emotions they inspired.

But he was who he was. Could she live with that? And that was a legitimate question, because she loved him. Her heart gave a painful thump.

“We should set your leg,” she whispered, looking away from them as she sat up. She looked at his leg but didn’t really see it. Her mind was too full.

Draco lay back down, saying nothing. Caleb stared at the injury, shaking his head.

“It’s no good, Weasley, we need our wands.”

Weasley, Weasley! I have a name, damnit! Ginny thought dazedly, not really comprehending anything. She continued to stare at Draco’s leg, Caleb’s words falling meaninglessly away. Her mind was spinning from too much information, and she was still feeling ridiculously hurt. She didn’t have the strength for this, she could barely think with everything that was rushing through her mind. She was exhausted, hungry, frightened, and in shock. One thing at a time, Ginny, she told herself. Shaking out of her reverie, she got to her knees and bent to examine Draco’s injured leg again. It looked a bit worse, as the skin was now broken due to his recent movements, and a tiny fragment of bone was visible. Ginny’s stomach lurched, and she looked away quickly.

“You’re right,” she said simply, looking around helplessly.

“Just leave it,” Draco said sleepily. Turning to him, Ginny saw his eyes closing, his pale face drawn with exhaustion that matched her own. Then she saw Morgan approaching them, and felt her heart drop. But Morgan’s approach was quiet, slow. When she reached them, she bent over Draco and began licking his face and prodding him with her large muzzle. Ginny blinked in surprise, what was she doing?

“Shock,” Caleb said tensly.

Ginny looked quickly at him, “Yes, I am too.”

“No, he’s going into shock,” Caleb frowned, suddenly leaning forward to shake his house mate; “don’t fall asleep mate, that’s very bad!”

“What?” Draco frowned, pushing weakly at the werewolf, “I’m tired, leave me alone.”

For some reason, Ginny was enormously relieved to hear some of his former petulance rising. She shook him a bit herself, about to ask what Caleb meant by “shock”, when she saw a shadow move.

She froze at the same instant that Morgan snapped upright, growling. The shadow kept moving, and after a moment detached itself from the surrounding blackness, making its way slowly towards the group.

It was the large black dog, and it was carrying something in its mouth.

Ginny watched it approach apprehensively, wondering if it was a stray and was suddenly (not to mention ironically) glad for Elizabeth’s presence. The werewolf might be an enemy, but she wouldn’t allow anyone else to cause further chaos. Draco lifted himself slightly and stared at the dog as it approached. The creature moved towards Caleb, who reared back slightly, and dropped whatever it was carrying next to him. Caleb gasped and Draco’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Ginny whispered anxiously, unable to see in the half light. In response, Caleb lifted the object, which turned out to be two objects, and turned to Ginny with a mad grin.

Their wands!

Ginny could only stare for a moment, then shot out her hand for her beautiful mahogany and Dragon heartstring instrument, feeling a grin stretch across her own face. They were saved!

“Where’s mine?” Draco asked, snapping Ginny’s attention back to him. It whuffed at Draco, and looked back the way it came. Ginny looked to the dog, and realized it had brought only hers and Caleb’s wands. How had it gotten them? Didn’t the Celt have them before? How had it known where to bring them? She stared at the creature, wondering if it was an animagus considering it had seemed to understand and even answer Draco’s question. Morgan touched noses with it as they exchanged growls and whines, communicating in a purely canine way.

Then they got the shock of their life.

The dog moved away from Morgan after a few minutes, and crouched slightly. Suddenly, its fur began to shorten and its limbs to elongate. The muzzle shrank back, and the fur on top of its head grew long. In a few moments, a man was crouching where the dog had been. As he stood slowly, clad in worn clothing and looking slightly haggard, Ginny felt her heart somersault as recognition hit her full force.

“Sirius!” she screamed.

Raquel Dodd Normal Raquel Dodd 2 4 2003-06-19T08:45:00Z 2003-06-19T08:45:00Z 1 8176 46604 388 109 54671 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Pansy Parkinson walked across Slytherin Commons in as dignified a manner as possible. Her usual crowd, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini, and Tracy Davis, followed a little behind her. The Common Room was deserted, but Pansy was restless. She decided a walk might clear her head. Those stupid Slytherin Prefects wouldn’t dare take points from her, as they were too close in the running for the House Cup to risk it.

The corridor was quiet, and Pansy spent a few moments walking aimlessly and allowing the relative peace to soak into her. Or trying to, anyway. But the truth was that Pansy’s agitation and discomfort were rooted inside of her, where she couldn’t reach.

You got what you wanted.

Pansy blinked and shook her head slightly. She hadn’t wanted that.

Her mind flashed back to that evening, right before supper. As Pansy had descended the stairs to the commons, a boy had run in, fresh from Hogsmeade.

“Did you hear? Malfoy and Anderson have disappeared! That Gryffindor bird has too, she was with them!”

Pansy had been surprised, but not worried. There was probably a mistake. Hearing that he was with a Gryffindor was definitely a mistake. She’d grabbed the boy, a second year by the name of Miles McKinnely, and demanded everything he knew. But he hadn’t known much. Professor McGonagall had stayed behind in Hogsmeade with three Gryffindors, one of them being Harry Potter, to look for the three missing students.

Pansy frowned. If Potter was among those who stayed, then the other two students could only be Granger and Weasley. Why would they have stayed? What interest would they have in Draco or Anderson?

“Er…Pansy?” Tracy interrupted her train of thought, causing Pansy to whirl on her furiously.

“What is it? I’m trying to think!”

Tracy and Millicent reared back from her wrath, but Blaise stood firm, a line forming between her brows, her lips pursing.

“You’ve been thinking all night, Pansy,” Blaise said, her voice a touch icy, “Would you like to share your insights? Or should we follow you around the whole of Hogwarts?”

Pansy glared. Blaise had never really shown her the proper respect, and Pansy had had to threaten her with social ostracism many times over their seven year tenure at Hogwarts in order to push her back in line. The way Pansy was feeling right now, however, Blaise might find herself more than ostracized before the night was over.

“Would you rather hang around with Flanders’ group? I’m sure they’d welcome you into their midst. It would be a step up for them to associate with you!” Pansy growled through clenched teeth.

It was Blaise’s turn to glare, but she said nothing. Satisfied, Pansy turned and resumed her trek to…she looked around. Her feet were taking her to the stairs that led to the Great Hall. She might find trouble there, as the other Prefects would hardly show her leniency. Worse if a professor caught them all. Snape would be unable to prevent it.

He would be unable to prevent it because he, too, was gone. No one had seen him all day, and Pansy was almost certain he was no where in the castle. He might be with Draco.

You can drop dead for all I care.

Pansy halted at the foot of the stone steps, weighing the consequences of being caught against the consequences of possibly obtaining fresh information. She heard the girls shifting uneasily behind her, but dismissed it as unimportant. If she told them to walk all the way to Hogsmeade they’d do it, stupid sheep that they were. Well, Blaise might refuse at first, but a few well chosen comments and she’d willingly jog the distance, possibly cursing Pansy under her breath the whole way, but what did that matter? Obedience was what mattered, and one did whatever it took to attain it.

Pansy smirked slightly, pleased with those thoughts. But a moment later her mood darkened again as she thought of Draco. He was missing, possibly in grave danger. He’d been attacked a scandalous number of times, which made no sense as Pansy could think of no one who would be stupid enough to actually risk the wrath of Lucius Malfoy. Now he’d gone to Hogsmeade, where he wasn’t supposed to have gone, and had disappeared. He could be hurt, or perhaps held hostage. He was worth a fortune in Galleons, and Pansy knew that such things sometimes befell the children of wealthy families.

Sometimes, even if a ransom was paid, the ends could still be tragic.

You’ve never used your brain for anything useful.

Pansy pulled her robes about her and began marching up the stairs. She was halfway up before she heard the steps of her friends following. Under normal circumstances, Pansy would make them pay for that. Then again, under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t have happened. They would have been a step behind her at all times, or they would get slapped, berated, and/or ostracized. Ostracism from Slytherin society at Hogwarts might seem shallow, but it was their social life until they left for the summer, or for good. Sometimes Pansy did it just to give them a taste of what it would be like to be ignored. But not merely ignored; there was also active harassment, revilement, and other abuse provided by their housemates. Abuse and harassment dished out as only Slytherins could. Their special brand of torture was reserved for those who failed to show solidarity, or dared to defy the House standard. What could a Gryffindor do that compared to that? Disloyalty of any kind, however inadvertent, was always punished with the utmost severity. Pansy found it quite a useful tool in keeping her friends loyal.

Pansy reached the Great Hall and walked towards the doors leading to the front entrance. She heard voices speaking softly there, and slowed down a tad to hear what was being said.

“…get on it right away, Headmaster,” a voice said. It was Terry Boot, Head Boy of Hogwarts. Pansy frowned slightly, slowing her steps more and darting to the corner so she could peek around. Dumbledore stood there gravely surrounded by several of the House Prefects, including Laura Pritchard, one of the Slytherin Prefects.

“Shouldn’t the Head Girl be here as well?” Ernie McMillan, one of Hufflepuff’s Prefects, asked.

“Miss Granger is indisposed at this time,” Dumbledore replied, making Pansy sneer, “Now I want you all to remain alert. This is a delicate time, and though I have confidence in our security wards it is important that we make certain Hogwarts isn’t compromised in any way. Constant Vigilance!”

The Prefects nodded and dispersed, and Pansy saw Professor McGonagall suddenly appear beside the Headmaster and whisper something to him.

“I see,” the Headmaster said softly, and they quickly walked away. Pansy clenched her fists, longing to follow but not quite daring to. She had no fear of Dumbledore’s wrath, as the doddering old fool was known for his leniency. Nevertheless, Pansy was still rather in awe of him, and McGonagall certainly wouldn’t hesitate to deduct points from Slytherin.

A hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump, and Pansy whirled around to see Blaise frowning at her.

“What are we doing here?” the dark haired Slytherin whispered, “Who do you intend to ask for information?”

Pansy had no idea where to turn to now but being reminded of that made her temper flare.

“If you’re so eager for your bed then go back to the Commons!” she hissed.

Blaise’s frown deepened, “I was just asking-“

“And I’m in no mood for stupidity,” Pansy snapped, “just go back to the damn dungeon!”

Blaise hesitated as Tracy and Millicent stared at her uncertainly. Suddenly, Pansy really wanted them gone.

“Go!” she jerked around and faced them fully, snarling as her face turned three shades of crimson. Tracy and Millicent bolted, but Blaise backed away slowly, frowning at Pansy the entire time. Pansy returned her stare for only a moment before dismissing her by turning and heading for the stairs to the first floor.

The corridors were, of course, deserted. It was late; after three in the morning. And although some students might be awake none of them would be foolish enough to be out wandering the grounds.

Except maybe Potter’s gang. They liked pushing the boundaries, and usually got away with it. No one else got the same degree of leniency as Potter and his cronies. Pansy vividly remembered when Draco had been caught skulking around the Astronomy Tower, waiting to catch Potter at his rule breaking. Instead he’d landed detention for himself. She conveniently forgot that Harry and his friends had also been caught that night, and had lost one hundred fifty points for Gryffindor.

Pansy stared down the deep shadows of the corridor once she reached the first floor. She had to speak with the Headmaster, and damn the House points. Draco was in trouble, and she had to know what was going on. Choosing a direction at random, Pansy walked determinedly into the shadows, taking care to walk slowly so her footsteps wouldn’t echo.

“…wasn’t your fault,” a deep voice hissed, “Don’t blame yourself for what happened! We don’t have much in the way of details, but I’m willing to bet we wouldn’t have made much difference.”

“Seamus, if I hadn’t left with you, she never would have gone to Hogsmeade with that Slytherin!” a female voice sobbed. Pansy peeked carefully around the corner and saw a slender young blonde standing near a tall, well built Gryffindor. Seamus Finnigan, unless she was very much mistaken. Which meant the girl was Susan Dresch, his Ravenclaw girlfriend.

“I’m sorry about that, Susan,” Finnigan replied, sounding hurt, “I just wanted to spend a little time with you.”

“I’m not blaming you, Seamus,” Dresch wept, “it’s my fault, I-“

“It’s getting you no where,” Finnigan interrupted, “She went, something happened, please stop acting as if you’re responsible!”

Pansy stared at them, eyes narrowing as she considered the implications of their words. If Dresch hadn’t gone with Finnigan somewhere, then someone else wouldn’t have gone to Hogsmeade…Weasley! Draco had taken Ginny Weasley to Hogsmeade? But that made no sense. Weasley was a Gryffindor, the enemy. Why would he risk being seen with her, and leave the grounds when he’d been forbidden to do so by his father and Snape?

“How am I supposed to feel, Seamus?” Dresch asked in a calmer, though no less tearful, voice. “Anderson likely used his charm and she agreed to go. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere if I’d stayed with her because we were talking about…important things.”

Anderson? Pansy frowned, shifting her thoughts to compensate for the mistake. The Slytherin Comedian had taken Weasley to Hogsmeade. How had Draco become involved?

I really can’t stand you.

Pansy’s hands clenched, the relative silence of the corridor making the words echo with a particular sharpness. A sudden image of his pale, snarling face reared in her memory and Pansy reeled for a moment, dropping her gaze from the couple. No, she thought numbly. We’re destined to be together, our parents want it that way. I want it that way!

“She told you to come with me, Susan,” Finnigan was speaking again, and Pansy felt the hot numbness in her chest spread. “Whatever it was, she was all right with your going. Please stop berating yourself.”

Dresch was sobbing quietly again, and Pansy felt her numbness turn to anger. She turned back towards the two of them and glared daggers. Finnigan stood tall, a bit taller than Draco, and hovered protectively close to Dresch. For her part, Dresch was leaning into Finnigan’s chest, her head was bowed and her short blonde hair gleamed in the soft torch light. Her shoulders were slumped and shook slightly with her quiet sobs. She looked so defeated, and Pansy felt her anger grow. Why should she cry? Was Dresch so certain of danger? Did she have so little faith in her friend’s strength?

Was she not leaning on her man, while Pansy stood alone and in fear for the one person she cared about?

I hate you, I always have.

“What are you doing?” Pansy stepped from the shadows, glaring hatefully at the young couple. Susan and Seamus whirled around, startled.

“Wh-what do you want?” Susan asked faintly, her eyes wide as she frowned.

“Crying, and for what? Think the world has ended because your friend has gone missing?” Pansy snarled spitefully, stalking over to them, moving with an almost serpentine grace, “How unlike a Ravenclaw, charging into self blame and standing useless instead of using your brain!”

“Get out of here,” Seamus growled, his green eyes burning with anger. Pansy laughed.

“Now that’s more like it,” she sneered, placing her hands on her hips as her gaze swept imperiously over Seamus, “Gryffindor fire. Very useful in pushing away anyone who talks sense. Can’t have that interfering with our imbecilic bravery, can we?”

Seamus took a threatening step forward, but Susan grabbed his arm. Her eyes were narrow as she regarded Pansy silently.

“Why are you here, Parkinson?” she asked after a moment.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “I always wander the corridors after hours looking for morons at play.”

Seamus growled, and Susan’s shoulders rose as she returned Pansy’s glare.

“What do you know about it? If you had a drop of warmth in your blood you’d know why I’m frightened! Ginny’s missing, maybe all alone—“

“Oh that’s it, immediately assume the worst, and don’t give a thought to who might be with her since they’re missing too!” Pansy roared, her whole demeanor stiffening with rage, no longer caring if they were caught, “Two of my House mates are gone as well. They might not mean anything to you, but they’re just as important to me as your Weasel is to you! If there’s danger, then they’re all in danger! Not just your Gryffindor Princess!”

The young couple reared back from Pansy’s outburst, Seamus’s eyes darting fearfully around.

“Will you lower your voice,” he hissed, a fine sheen of sweat suddenly appearing on his brow, “if we’re caught—“

“What do I care?” Pansy screamed, “Why should I be concerned about you when all you think about is yourselves? You don’t even care that Draco—“

“That’s enough,” Susan shouted, stepping forward. But Pansy’s reason seemed to have flown as her eyes snapped to Susan, furious that the stupid girl would dare interrupt her.

“Don’t you talk to me that way!” Pansy was shrieking now, “How dare you? Selfish, rotten, narrow minded…” Pansy sputtered as she tried to think of a word nasty enough to convey how much she hated them at this moment. Here they stood, a pair of Hogwarts’ darlings, standing in self righteous grief over their stupid friend, not a thought or word spared to Pansy’s own house mates.

Standing together. Standing united, and comforting each other tenderly. If there were more Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, or even Hufflepuffs about, they would be comforting them as well.

Pansy stood alone. No one had asked or worried about Draco and Caleb, not that she knew of. No one had come forward to ask what the Slytherins knew, or to offer them comfort. Never mind that they wouldn’t have accepted it, no one had even tried! Pansy’s mind rattled as she thought of the anxiety she’d experienced since supper, when it was apparent that the three students were definitely missing. She’d been unable to talk to her friends, or to anyone in Slytherin about how she felt. She’d had no clue as to who she could reach out to, no one to whom she could whisper her dreadful fears. She stood alone, hearing Draco’s last spoken words to her echoing endlessly in her mind.

Stay as far away from me as possible.

“You small minded little bigots!” she finally spat, tears of rage flooding her eyes and her head roaring with the sound of her own blood. She didn’t even know that she’d raised her fists, and barely felt herself move forward. She only knew that she wanted to crush Susan Dresch, smash her into the flagstones until her face was a bloody pulp and her spirit a broken toy.

SMACK! Pansy reeled backwards, her hands flying to her face as Susan’s sharp slap penetrated the fog of emotion trying to swallow her. She was saved from falling on her backside when Susan grabbed the front of her robes tightly, jerking her forward.

“Calm down,” Susan growled unsteadily, her pixie-like face contorted with fury, “we are not your enemies, and we have not dismissed anything! Stop screaming at us as if you know our every thought, you don’t!”

Seamus stared at his girlfriend in shock, obviously afraid to move. Susan released Pansy roughly, but continued to glare at her, “There isn’t a student or teacher here who isn’t shocked and afraid for them, all of them. Do you think everyone waits in the wings for one of you to drop over dead? Do you honestly think us so callous? Then you’re judging us by your own example, because I have no doubt that’s exactly what you do.”

Susan’s eyes filled with tears again, her own anger gaining strength, “The biggest fear I’ve ever had before now was failing an exam, or losing points for my House. Oh, I’ve feared You-Know-Who’s return, and all the things that have happened at school since I started, like the Chamber of Secrets being opened and Sirius Black on the loose. But it was never close, or real! I’ve even had terrible thoughts about you Slytherins, but they were never serious. The most harm I’ve ever wished is for one of you to fall into a vat of Freezing Fusion, but if it ever actually happened I’d lose my mind! But you? You lot stare at everyone as though they should drop dead at your whim. You were thrilled to hear about You-Know-Who’s return, and if ten of you shed tears or felt anything at Cedric Diggory’s death, you hid it wonderfully!”

“That’s right, we hid it,” said a new voice emanating from the shadows where Pansy had been. They all turned quickly, Seamus looking almost white with fear but moving forward regardless as the figure emerged.

It was Blaise Zabini.

The dark haired Slytherin approached warily, her face caught between a frown and a sneer. Pansy stared blankly at her friend until Blaise was right next to her.

Blaise regarded Pansy neutrally for a moment, then turned to Susan.

“Did you really expect anything else from a House with a…less than solid reputation?”

Susan stared at the new arrival warily, “I don’t know. I have no idea what I expected. You lot keep to yourselves and never let anyone in.”

“Not terribly good PR, I know,” Blaise’s sneer grew for a moment before her face settled back into a neutral expression, “but it serves us, and it helps keep everyone guessing.”

“Bully for you, then,” Seamus growled sarcastically.

Pansy’s gaze snapped to the tall young man, her eyes blazing with anger still, but Blaise placed a restraining hand on her arm, “I think we’ll go now.”

“Please do,” Susan muttered. As Blaise tried to tug Pansy back towards the shadows, however, the blonde girl suddenly came to life again. She jerked Blaise to a halt and glared at Susan.

“Stop crying and do something useful. Your tears serve no purpose.”

Susan glared back resentfully, “I know they serve no real purpose, but what else can I do? I can’t banish my fears with a wave of my wand, can you?”

Seamus shook his head, scowling, and began to lead Susan back to the Ravenclaw Commons.

“Pansy,” Blaise began leading her away again, and this time Pansy didn’t resist, just stared at Susan until she and Seamus disappeared from sight, then turned away. She and Blaise walked in silence for several minutes; Pansy with her head down, and Blaise holding her friend’s arm and keeping a sharp eye out for Prefects or Professors. As they neared the stairs, Pansy put a hand to her face, feeling the skin burn where the Ravenclaw bint slapped her. Tart! Little blind maggot! What did she know? She and that stupid Gryffindor were blind, partial, and…and…

“Idiots,” Pansy murmured, “all of them! No one cares, no one!”

I hate you…stay as far away from me as possible.

No! Draco, you don’t mean that, I know you don’t! Pansy felt her whole body tense, her face stiffening and her heart beginning to hammer. He couldn’t break up with her, they were destined to be together. She loved him, and he felt…similar. Well, she hadn’t been sure if she loved him until that day he’d broken it off, but now she was sure. Wasn’t she?

Pansy gripped her head, her fingers tangling with her fine, blonde hair. The pounding in her head had increased, and she was sure she had a migraine. Luckily she had some pain potions from home in her trunk. She was prone to migraines, as was her mother, and Pansy hadn’t seen the harm in sneaking a few of them into school. She needed them to get through sometimes.

Like now, when her whole world was shattering around her, and had been for weeks.

Draco was gone, missing, quite possibly kidnapped and in danger. Their petty arguments meant nothing right now, she would accept his decisions and she would accept his contempt if it meant that he’d return to Hogwarts alive and whole.

Why are you feeling that? another voice asked. If he dies, then no one takes your place. No one else becomes Mrs. Malfoy.

That was true, but Pansy’s heart rebelled violently against the thought of his coming to any harm, to the point where she physically shuddered.

“Pansy,” Blaise hissed, “are you all right?”

The blonde girl looked up at her friend, then at her surroundings. They were descending the stairs to the dungeons. Pansy blinked, surprised that they’d come so far in so short a time.

“I…” Pansy’s tongue felt thick, and it seemed too much an effort to talk, to explain. How do you explain loving someone? How do you explain being so frightened for them that you’d risk your position in their life, your reputation as one who got everything they wanted, if it meant they would be safe?

They walked further, and Pansy saw that they had entered the dungeon corridors. She suddenly wanted her bed, and the blessed forgetfulness of sleep. If it would come.

She felt Blaise’s hand grip her arm again and stop their forward progress. Pansy turned to Blaise in confusion, wondering at the expression on her friend’s face. It wasn’t one she recognized, as it was part contempt and part…sympathy? Did Blaise feel sorry for her?

The thought alone was a shocking and confusing one. Pansy had a fleeting moment of anger as well, but was too drained to hold on to it.

“Pansy,” the dark eyed girl whispered awkwardly, “it will…be all right.”

Pansy blinked at her, comprehension eluding her for a moment. Blaise tried again;

“He’ll be all right. Draco will come back soon, and he’ll be fine.”

A long moment of silence passed, and she could only stare at Blaise. After what seemed an eternity, Pansy found her voice;

“Are you certain?” Her whisper barely reached Blaise’s ears, but the tears that once again began to seep from her eyes spoke volumes. “He might…die.”

That was when the dam burst and Pansy could no longer hold back the heartbroken sobs that had burned in her bosom since the day he’d broken up with her. She had not cried in the company of her friends, or by herself about it. She’d ranted and plotted to get him back, filling her mind with scheme upon scheme. Not once had she acknowledged the pain he’d caused her.

Not once, before now, had she bothered to see clearly the pain she’d caused him.

Now it didn’t matter, none of it. She just wanted him back in her life, even if it was to ignore her existence forever, even if it was to watch him choose someone else, like Blaise, or even Tracey, as a wife.

“I just want him back,” she sobbed. “I don’t care if he hates me, I just want him back!”

The delicate girl collapsed, and would have fallen to the stone floor had Blaise not caught her. Her expression caught between irritation and pity, Blaise sank to the ground and cradled Pansy in her arms, gently rocking her and murmuring whatever encouragement she could think of. It was all Blaise could do, and she truly hoped everything would turn out all right.

Somehow, she didn’t fancy winning over her leader and rival this way.

*************

Draco pulled a piece of bread from the brown paper bag he was holding and stuffed it hungrily into his mouth. The delicious sensation of eating food, of filling one’s empty belly, was one he had never appreciated before, and at this moment it was divine despite the burning his stomach was suffering. His ulcer, thankfully, didn’t seem to have gotten any worse, but it had been painful. Fortunately, he’d been in too much mental chaos to take much notice. His mouth was dry enough that most of the bread stuck to his teeth or the roof of his mouth, but he was unmindful of this as he pulled out a slice of cheese and began to eat it greedily. A moment later the bag was snatched from his hands by Caleb, who had just finished draining half the skin of water Sirius had provided.

“Watsch it,” Draco snapped with his mouth full, snatching the water and drinking deeply before he’d swallowed properly. He didn’t care. He was so hungry that manners were, at this moment anyway, superfluous and unnecessary.

Once he’d drunk his fill, he looked around and saw that Ginny had grabbed the paper bag, and was now munching almost simultaneously on an apple and a chunk of bread. Her complexion had a bit more color now and she’d gathered up her long, tangled hair into a messy bun on top of her head. He felt himself color slightly as he watched her stuff the last of the bread in her mouth, her pink lips dusted with tiny bread crumbs, then immediately continue gnawing the apple. Munch, munch, munch.

When her tongue darted out to lick the crumbs off of her lips, Draco felt his teeth chomp down extra hard on his cheese, making them clack painfully. A snort to his left told him that Caleb had observed this.

Prat, he thought irritably.

Behind Ginny, Sirius was looking out into the trees and holding more water as Morgan stood guard. Draco’s eyes narrowed as he watched Potter’s godfather move towards them. He was indebted to this man, and that grated slightly. After he’d transformed from his dog shape, he’d set about healing Draco’s leg and feeding them. Draco felt irritation blossom as he remembered;

“Sirius!” Ginny had screamed, running to the shabbily clothed man and throwing herself into his arms. Caleb’s jaw had dropped, and his eyes had widened almost fearfully. Draco had also felt shocked and somewhat fearful. Sirius Black! Although he knew from his father that Black hadn’t actually done the crime he’d been accused of, he was still regarded as dangerous. In his weakened and wandless state, Draco felt that their danger had just increased tenfold.

Why was Morgan wagging her tail? Why didn’t the stupid wench do something? Draco had been unable to believe what he was seeing. He and Caleb exchanged confused looks, wondering how a dangerous criminal from Azkaban had found them and wondering if they were about to go from the frying pan into the fire.

But then why was Weasley hugging him? Why was he smiling so gently at her? Draco’s eyes had narrowed, his thoughts whirling.

Don’t tell me they think he’s innocent! Draco had thought incredulously. The next moment a spasm of pain had caused him to gasp loudly, momentarily making him forget his anger. That’s when the dog-man had approached, staring in concern at Draco’s leg as Ginny breathlessly filled him in on what was happening.

“I know about the attacks on Mr. Malfoy,” Sirius had replied, frowning, “that’s actually why I’m here.”

Ginny had frowned as well, but remained silent. It was Caleb who’d asked the question; “How did you know where to find us?”

Sirius had glanced at Caleb for a moment, then returned his attention to Draco’s injury.

“I have my sources,” he’d replied shortly, pulling out his recently acquired holly and Unicorn hair wand. Draco saw Caleb glance at Morgan, his blue eyes narrowing suddenly.

“I’d be very interested in knowing what and who they are,” Draco had frowned.

Sirius had smiled slightly, glancing at Draco, “I’m sure you would.”

Draco didn’t like that. He’d looked over at Morgan, sitting next to Sirius and watching them all with her strange, brown-green eyes. She’d saved him once, then betrayed them all. Trust was ever so thin a commodity, and Draco had precious little of it even in the best of times. Cryptic answers tended to exacerbate his already short temper.

And he was Potter’s Godfather. The thought made Draco’s face tighten slightly as he regarded the older man.

“I think I have a right to know,” he insisted.

“How did it happen?” Sirius asked absently, ignoring the question and continuing to examine Draco’s injury.

“I threw myself on a large rock in the hope a dangerous and smelly criminal would come and rescue me,” Draco replied acidly. “Luckily you were around.”

“Draco,” Ginny had said warningly, her gaze darting anxiously to Black.

Sirius had regarded Draco for a moment, his deep eyes glittering. Then Black had moved closer to Draco, sniffing deeply.

“I wouldn’t make remarks about being smelly if I were you, Mr. Malfoy,” Black had smirked. Draco had glared daggers for a moment, but then another wave of pain had washed over him, causing him to fall flat on his back.

“I have experience as a field Medi-Wizard, young sir,” Black had said then, the undertone of amusement in his voice unmistakable, “I must say, you’ve got the childish act down, don’t you?”

Black chuckled as he said this, but cleared his throat at Ginny’s soft protest, “Will you please allow me to mend your bones?”

Draco’s anger combined with the excruciating pain made him snarl his assent, and Sirius had quickly cast the Bone Mending Spell. Draco felt a sudden, deep cold pervade his injured leg, and could actually feel the bones move. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, and in a few moments the cold left his limb completely.

“That should do it,” Sirius’s voice cut through the silence. Draco slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Caleb was grinning at him, while Ginny was standing silently next to Black, staring at the ground. Black was examining his leg, and Draco sat up to look for himself. The skin was now whole and unbroken, and he could move without pain. His leg was still a little stiff, but he reckoned a bit of walking would sort that out. He got carefully to his feet.

“Thank you, Sirius,” Ginny had said quietly, frowning at the ground and hugging Harry’s godfather.

“Thank you,” Draco had said curtly to Black, who’d nodded gravely at him. Then Black had produced the food…

“You finished with that?” Caleb asked, bringing Draco’s thoughts sharply back to the present.

“What?” he frowned.

“The water,” Caleb said with exaggerated patience. “Are-you-finished-with-it?”

Draco pursed his lips and tossed the bottle, aiming for Anderson’s head. Fortunately Anderson was well coordinated enough to snatch the almost empty skin mid flight. He grinned cheekily at Draco and walked over to Sirius for the full skin. Draco’s expression turned sour once more, and he wondered if he really was acting like a child. He looked to his left. Somewhere in the shadows over there the body of a dead boy lay and perhaps only Draco knew of him, besides his killers, of course. Draco’d been kidnapped and dragged miles from Hogwarts and his parents, endured multiple attacks on his person, found out that this had all been contracted by a mysterious someone for reasons Draco could only guess at, and had fallen hard for the Spotted Menace.

Draco remembered calling her that at the end of last term. Ginny had turned her huge, hurt eyes on him and run. He hadn’t felt the satisfaction he’d expected to feel at the time, but then, he never did anymore. Putting others down, though a great way to boost one’s flagging spirits, had begun to lose its element of fun right about the end of his fourth year, and Draco knew it was no coincidence. The Dark Lord had returned, pressure from his father to do well, and to live up to his expectations, had increased. Abusing others had become more of an outlet than ever before, and that had caused the pleasure to die.

In any case, wasn’t he entitled to a bit of childishness?

He suddenly wondered if she remembered, and if she was still angry about it.

Why don’t you remind her of it, a cold voice mocked, then you’ll know for sure. The thought made Draco scowl as he moved about restlessly. He didn’t want to make her angry, he wanted to see her smile. He wanted to see if her face was as luminous in every day life as it had been when he’d kissed her. He wanted to kiss her again, and this time he wanted his hands free to touch her. He wanted her intoxicating smell to flood his nostrils and paralyze his brain again; that smell of dirt, sweat, a cheap perfume, and beneath all the warm smell of her skin. Draco turned roughly, almost snarling, and began to pace, his eyes focused on the ground.

He wanted a cold shower. He really, really wanted a cold shower. Maybe there was a pond nearby?

As he walked first one way, then another, he discreetly glanced at Ginny. She was talking rapidly to Black, her hands gesturing emphatically, her expression intense. For his part, Black’s expression was equal parts anger and concern. He crossed his arms and bowed his head as he listened to his Godson’s friend, no doubt processing all the information he was receiving and formulating some new plan. Draco’s eyes slid back to Ginny. Somehow, with her tangled and messy hair, torn robes, and dirt streaked appearance, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It was the way her spirit glowed with life, something Draco had never really known before.

He’d never thought it could happen, never thought to look beyond the boundaries of his father’s circle, or his housemates in Slytherin, for someone to fall in love with. Or at least to form an attachment to. Who else was worthy enough for him to bestow his attention on? Coming from a rich and pedigreed background was not the only requirement either; Draco had learned to mark a woman’s ambition, her intelligence and how it could be used to gain advantage (whether the lady in question was smart enough to catch on to his evaluation or not), her connections in Wizarding Society and how advantageous they might be, and other seemingly important traits. Why had he never been taught to look for courage? What about strength to overcome unbelievable odds? What about determination that was willful and defiant in the face of fear and horror, leaving the spirit unbroken and the heart all the stronger for it? He’d never noticed these things before in anyone. He’d never had to.

Draco stopped pacing, his eyes focusing on the shadows ahead of him. Bravery. What was it except another word for idiocy? Draco had been taught all his life that bravery was an emotion that erased your common sense and made you do incredibly stupid things like fight dragons or defy the powerful. Bravery would kill you faster than the Death Curse.

But tonight he’d seen a young woman display a kind of bravery that only made him respect her. Bravery had pushed her to continue flailing in her bonds, not stopping just because she’d lost some skin. Skin healed, and blood was replenished by the body. She’d fought until she’d won, and Draco didn’t see how her common sense had abandoned her. Not only had she fought for herself, but she’d attempted to fight for her companions. Despite his earlier bluster, Draco truly hadn’t meant to downgrade her actions. He was grateful she’d tried to free them, of course. But her accusation had infuriated and hurt him, especially after he’d tried so hard to bring them a practical means of escape, and had found a dead body on top of everything else. He’d just wanted her to understand that he wasn’t like her, but his Slytherin pride demanded that he meet her verbal assault with a stronger one of his own.

He knew he’d succeeded, damn it all, and he wondered if she’d ever forgive him for it. She hadn’t met his eyes since.

As he stood there staring out into the darkness, Ginny looked over at him. He didn’t know that her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his still figure, or that her heart pounded with her love for him as she took in his pale, troubled face, nor did he see the troubled expression cross her own face. If he had, he might have felt the weight on his heart become a bit lighter. Instead, Draco was forced to find cheer where he could.

“Draco?” A voice beside him made him jump.

“Damn it,” he growled. “Why are you always pestering me, Anderson?”

“Excuse me,” Caleb replied dryly, handing him some sliced cheese, “but I find I can’t go ten minutes without trying to twist your brain into pretzelian shapes.”

“Pretzelian?” Draco frowned, stuffing the cheese into his mouth.

“Think pretzel, Malfoy,” Caleb grinned, “but don’t strain yourself.”

“Ha ha,” Draco rolled his eyes, “I’m so glad you’re around to spread your particular brand of joy. Makes me long to stab myself through the eye!”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Caleb replied cheerfully.

Draco took the remaining slice of cheese and smacked it onto Caleb’s forehead, where it stuck rather nicely.

****************

Harry felt the tears freeze against his temples as he sped through the cold wind alongside Professor Snape. They had been heading almost due south, and Harry knew they weren’t far from Edinburgh. They had made amazing time considering they were following a land bound creature, and Harry had been taken aback several times as Snape had whistled to the ground, signaling their four legged guide to slow down.

Snape. Harry shuddered as he regarded the Potions Master out of the corner of his eye. Snape’s eyes were still glowing that eerie blood red, and it was too creepily accurate as far as Harry was concerned. He remembered how the younger students liked to say that Snape was a vampire. Harry wasn’t so sure about that, but if he was, he’d make a damn good one. No one could top Snape in the dark and creepy department!

Harry then glanced slightly behind and almost grinned as he saw Ron grimacing in pain at Hermione’s tight hold. She was no longer hiding her face, but her head had not left Ron’s shoulder as her eyes darted about in terrified fascination. Every time the broom jostled in the slightest her grip would tighten further, causing Ron to protest. A hasty “Sorry,” from her only made Ron grumble, which made Hermione snap back defensively. Then the bickering would begin until Ron’s distraction, or a sudden gust of turbulence, caused the broom to jostle again. Then it was hide and squeeze for Hermione. Harry considered telling her that distracting Ron would only make things worse, but he was having too much fun watching them argue to really do anything about it.

Lord knows I need a laugh, he thought, suddenly sobering. He turned away, focusing his eyes on the ground and was just able to make out Lupin’s wolf form running tirelessly among the trees. He quickly lost sight of the werewolf amongst the many shadows but a glance at Snape told him they were still on course. The Potions Master stared down and ahead with rigid determination and Harry had no doubt he could see everything around him with perfect clarity.

I’ll bet he can see all the way down into hell, Harry thought, feeling chills race up his spine.

His musings were cut off when Snape suddenly straightened, holding up his hand and signaling a halt.

“What is it?” Ron asked, frowning worriedly at Snape.

“Silence,” the Professor snapped. Peering down intently, Snape’s eyes narrowed as he studied the werewolf below. Harry also peered anxiously down, finally spotting Remus after a few moments. There was a divide in the road here as it forked off in two directions, one east and the other west. The werewolf was sniffing the ground intently, moving in circles, then moving off to the east fork. Snape drifted to the ground as Lupin began to emit high pitched whines, as if calling them down to him.

Snape dismounted quickly, almost scowling. Harry hovered near by, ready to take off in an instant while Ron dismounted and allowed Hermione some precious minutes on solid ground. Lupin was pawing and nuzzling at the ground, and Harry thought he saw something glitter next to the wolf’s huge snout.

“What is it?” Snape asked shortly, kneeling down and frowning at the spot Lupin was pawing at. Then the Potions Master stilled, cocking his head to one side and slowly reaching down to lift the object Lupin had found.

It was a necklace, with a gold rose pendant attached.

“That’s Elizabeth’s,” Hermione burst out, “I’ve seen her wear it before, I know it’s hers!”

“Obviously, Miss Granger, as I doubt Lupin would have stopped us for a treasure hunt,” Snape growled, causing Hermione to blush.

“What’s it doing here, I wonder?” Ron asked to cover the awkward moment. Snape glared at the necklace, then turned to Lupin.

“I’m sure I don’t know, but perhaps the werewolf could tell us if he weren’t conveniently unable to speak.” The Potions Master snapped.

Lupin growled deep in his throat, and Harry scowled angrily.

“I’m sure he doesn’t know either, Professor. Maybe it’s a sign?”

“Of what,” the professor sneered, “her eternal devotion? I was unaware that tossing heartfelt gifts by the wayside indicated deep attachment.”

“Who says it’s a gift?” Harry asked. Snape didn’t reply.

“Maybe,” Ron said thoughtfully, “she knew someone would follow along.”

Snape turned a contemptuous glare on the young Gryffindor, “So now she isn’t in league with the enemy, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron scowled defensively, and Hermione spoke up hesitantly as a new thought struck her.

“Perhaps,” she said slowly, “Elizabeth is spying on the inside, as you once did with the Death Eaters?”

At these words, Snape’s glare turned absolutely poisonous.

“And what do you know about that, Miss Granger?” he asked in a chillingly smooth voice. Hermione’s eyes widened as Harry and Ron gulped.

“It was a deduction, sir,” she replied quietly, “Dumbledore confirmed it. But I’m sure we three are the only ones who know.”

Snape’s lip curled as he regarded them each in turn, “Aahh, the Gryffindor Trio. Always in the thick of things, aren’t you? Can’t leave well enough alone.”

Harry spoke then, a vision of The Chamber of Secrets rising in his memory, “Sometimes it’s necessary, especially when no one else seems to know what to do.”

“So speaks Perfect Potter, the Tri-Wizard Champion,” Snape’s contempt hit them all with the force of a slap. Harry’s teeth gritted and his heart began to pound hard as he struggled to suppress his anger at this crass reminder of Cedric.

“It’s better than being a failed Death Eater who can’t do anything except hide because he’s wanted dead by the Dark Lord!” Ron cried furiously, his neck, ears, and face visibly red even in the pale moonlight.

“Ron!” Hermione gripped his arms, though she, too, was red with fury. Lupin growled loudly at Snape, baring his teeth and rising onto his hind legs. Snape glared at him.

“Enough of this,” the Professor snapped, “the trail grows colder by the minute.”

The Potions Master walked right in front of Lupin, as if daring him to do anything, then mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground. Harry glared hatefully at him as he rose, then turned to his friends.

“It’d be great if we could just hex him and leave him here,” he growled, his lip curling in a fair imitation of the Professor’s.

“We need him,” Hermione said firmly, though Harry and Ron both fancied they heard a bit of reluctance in her voice. Lupin whuffed at Harry, then trotted off a short distance, pausing to turn back and regard them.

“If you aren’t in the air in five seconds, Mr. Weasley, it will be twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape’s voice floated down to them. The Trio made noises of protest, but quickly obeyed. Luckily, Hermione was still too angry to be afraid of mounting the broom. Her grip on Ron was firm but not painful, for once. Until they started to rise, that is. Then she gasped and squeezed his middle tightly.

“Ouch! Herm!” he protested irritably.

“Sorry,” she snapped.

“You’re always sorry,” Ron groaned, “can you not be sorry for once and stop trying to suffocate me?”

“I’m not trying to suffocate you, Ron, so stop saying I am!”

Harry smiled slightly as the bickering began anew.

************

Ginny blew on her hands as she watched Sirius scan the dark woods, searching for the source of a noise he’d heard. Morgan stood next to him, her stance alert and ears pointed forward.

She’d been arguing with Harry’s godfather about Draco and her certainty that he was not withholding information or lying about what he knew, despite Sirius’s obvious doubt, and the effort had both drained her and left her angry. The idea that this was some sort of elaborate trick was almost insulting, and Ginny was at a loss to explain how Sirius could think it was.

"Why would he lie about anything, especially now? There’s nothing to be gained from secrecy at this point, it’s more likely to get him killed!" She’d hissed.

"Who knows, but how in the world could he be chased around school, around Hogsmeade, around Britain itself, and not know a single reason for it?" Sirius argued, his shoulders setting stubbornly. "His father’s a bloody Malfoy, and they’re always involved in deep scams and plots. He could have the whole school convinced he’s a victim when in reality he may be trying to lure Harry out of the school!"

Ginny had frowned, shocked at the very idea. What sane person would put themselves in so much danger just to get close to Harry?

"If that’s all he wanted," Ginny had whispered more calmly, "all he’d have to do is challenge Harry to a personal Quidditch match or something. Harry’s very good at sneaking out after hours, and that’s partially thanks to you, Padfoot."

Sirius had scowled, running a hand through his untidy black locks. He never liked being reminded that the items he and his friends had been so proud to create were now being used to help Harry land himself in mortal danger.

"I’m well aware of that, thank you!" he’d huffed. "Look, all I’m saying is that we should examine the facts a bit more carefully. I don’t trust him or his father."

So that’s what this is about, Ginny had thought irritably.

"I don’t think he’s been exactly wild about you, either," she’d retorted, "and you seem to be forgetting that I’ve been here the whole time. I’m telling you, this is real! If you’d look into their eyes, you’d see it too."

Sirius had been about to reply, and rather sternly from the looks of him, when they’d heard a twig snap in the distance. Ginny had immediately gone still, her whole body tensing to run as Sirius whirled towards the noise, his face lifting slightly upwards. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the boys hugging the side of a large tree, their black robes blending with the shadows well enough to partially conceal them.

"Stay here," Sirius hissed at her. With Morgan at his heels he trotted into the shadows, leaving the students alone once again. Ginny heard a faint rustling behind her, and turned to see Draco walking quickly towards her, his eyes focused intently on the path Sirius had just taken.

"What is it?" he whispered, finally looking down at her.

"I’m not sure, but he’s gone to look," she explained unnecessarily, staring determinedly ahead of her and trying to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart. She didn’t see the slight frown that rippled across his face before he turned away.

"D’you think we should follow him?" Caleb asked, startling Ginny as he came up behind her.

"No, we should wait for him here," she replied once she’d caught her breath. "He won’t be long."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, moving forward and straining his ears for the slightest sound.

"Well, let’s give him a chance before we run away in panic," she said wryly, rolling her eyes. It was then that she noticed the sky was no longer inky black, but a deep blue, and the stars were twinkling less. Dawn was coming, and that meant the vampires would be returning soon. Ginny frowned as the minutes ticked away and Sirius didn’t return. Could he be in danger? Had he been discovered?

“I don’t like this,” Caleb murmured, his blue eyes sweeping the shadows uneasily.

“I’m going to see what’s happening,” Ginny whispered after a moment. Draco whirled on her.

“Are you mad? Those things might have come back! We need to hide, at least until we know for sure.”

“If they have come back, hiding won’t do us any good,” she argued, welcoming her anger since it enabled her to look at Draco without embarrassment. “They’ll be able to sniff us out or something – and I’m not going to just leave him alone!”

With that she began walking resolutely in the direction that Sirius had taken.

“Bloody Gryffindor!” she heard Draco mutter. For some reason it made her smile. When she heard the rustle of movement behind her a moment later, her smile grew wider.

“If I let you do this alone you’ll get yourself killed, or worse,” he muttered, glancing irritably at her.

“Since when are Slytherins heroic?” Caleb asked, coming up behind them and looking rather put out.

“Well,” Ginny smiled sweetly, “you could always guard the clearing for us. Let out a yell if the vampires return before we do.”

With a cheery wave she was off again, Draco smirking slyly as he followed. Caleb gaped at Ginny’s reminder of their kidnappers and, after half a second’s considering, followed quickly.

They hadn’t gone far, though, when they almost literally ran into Sirius. He was slightly out of breath and sweating, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“Just making sure you’re all right,” Ginny replied with a frown. Black swore as he grabbed hers and Draco’s upper arms and propelled them back to the clearing. Draco protested angrily and shook him off, but Sirius wasn’t willing to let Draco out of his sight and kept a hold of the back of his robes. Morgan was growling slightly, and Ginny felt the hair on the back of her neck and arms raise.

"They’ve come back, haven’t they?" she asked urgently, her eyes darting around as they entered the clearing. There was no sign of anything living that she could see, but these weren’t living creatures. Ginny’s paranoia began to flare back up.

"Well, are they back, then?" Caleb repeated Ginny’s question, feeling himself shiver.

"Not yet, but they’ll be here any time now." Sirius replied, "I need to see what I can make of the situation, and meet with my contact one more time. You need to get undercover, and quick."

“I’d rather go with you and see what’s happening,” Draco replied forcefully, startling everyone. Sirius scowled.

“I don’t need you tagging along right now, we don’t have time!”

“I wouldn’t just be your hanger-on, Black, and you don’t tell me what to do!” Draco snapped back, his pale face flushing. “I’ve been pursued, attacked, kidnapped, everything except burned at the stake, and I’d like just a little more insight on why this is happening to me before I lose my bloody mind!”

Ginny stared at Draco, feeling slightly annoyed by his outburst. Yes, he had a right to know what was happening and why, but time was short, and the only thing she really wanted to do was jump on that damn flying carpet and go. Still, as horrible as this whole night had been for her, he’d been enduring these attacks for weeks now. She watched him quietly for a moment. His eyes were so intense they almost appeared glazed, and she could practically see the steam rising from his ears.

“I need to move quickly, Mr. Malfoy,” Sirius growled. “If you get lost or left behind, on your own head be it.”

Ginny snapped her head towards Black. Tell me he didn’t just give him permission, she thought angrily.

But he had. “Ginny, you and Mr. Anderson get back to that barn and hide yourselves. Morgan will go with you. I’ll retrieve you as soon as I have the information I need.”

He turned and strode out of the clearing before Ginny could protest, Draco limping slightly after him.

***********

Draco walked carefully beside the unkempt looking Black, trying to absorb
everything that was happening. His leg was mended, thanks to Sirius, and
both Caleb and Ginny had their wands back. But what the hell was going on?
And what did Potter's godfather have to do with it?

"How does your leg feel, Mr. Malfoy?" Sirius asked quietly, making Draco
turn to him in surprise.

“All right, I suppose,” he replied warily. Sirius nodded and began to walk faster, forcing Draco to quicken his own pace. His bones were still a bit sore and this wasn’t helping, but he’d asked to come along. He needed answers, and that was worth a bit of discomfort.

“So who exactly are you going to make contact with? Is there someone conveniently sequestered out here in the middle of no where?” Draco asked, glancing curiously at Sirius.

“Not too bright, are you?” Sirius smirked, offending the young Slytherin.

“What do you mean?” he snapped.

“Never mind, I have to gather some information that’s critical to the Ministry. Our last meeting was interrupted, and I only had time to grab the wands.” Sirius explained, a frown creasing his weathered face.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, trying to still his whirling thoughts. The Celt, he thought dully, he’s the one who had the wands. He’d suspected that the Celt was hiding something, but he hadn’t guessed that this was it. A spy for Dumbledore the whole time! How had he not seen it?

Well, between the threats to my life, the being messed about and the bone breaking, I guess it just slipped my notice, he thought sardonically.

“All right,” Draco spoke after a momentary silence. “So once you and the Celt talk, we can hop on the carpet and get out of here, right?”

Sirius paused, staring at Draco, "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that."

Draco frowned. "Complicated in what way?" he asked. Sirius glanced back at him a
moment but kept walking, irritating the younger man when he didn't answer immediately.

"I asked you a question, Black," he snapped.

"And I heard you quite clearly the first time, Mr. Malfoy," Sirius replied, his own voice dropping a few degrees. Draco shot yet another glare at Potter’s godfather and decided he hated him almost as much as he hated Potter. What was it about Dumbledore’s favorites that made them think they could keep secrets and dole out information at their convenience?

Sirius stopped suddenly, his hand dropping onto Draco’s shoulder to halt him as well. Draco immediately shook him off but tensed his body, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“This is the place,” Sirius whispered back. “Any minute now, I hope.”

Draco stared doubtfully at Black, trying to hold back the fear that was threatening to rise again. A swift intake of breath from Black made Draco’s head snap towards him. Sirius was staring straight ahead, and when Draco followed his gaze he felt his blood run cold at the sight of red eyes glowing in the surrounding darkness.

The spy had come.

***************

Ginny finished rolling out the carpet and glared at Caleb, who was smiling apologetically at her. That is, until he looked at the carpet.

"I’m not sure about this, Ginny," he frowned, raising a hand to rub his chest, "I’ve never flown one of these things before, have you?"

"No," she replied shortly, "but it’s our only chance. We can’t keep waiting around while Sirius gathers information. He’s doing what he’s supposed to, but we’re supposed to be back at Hogwarts."

"Good point, my dear," Caleb drawled, "but if neither of us can fly this woven sack of strings then I’m afraid we’re going to have to wait on his Royal Gryffness."

Ginny shot a glare at the impudent young Slytherin as she knelt onto the carpet. "Do you have to crack jokes all of the time?" she retorted.

"Only when I’m awake," he grinned.

"Hmph!"

Caleb’s lack of encouragement made Ginny fume, but his wit had yet to miss the mark for her. Consequently, she found herself angrier at the fact that she was having to bite back a smile at his statement than at anything he was actually doing. Or not doing, as the case may be. She bit her lips hard and tossed her tangled hair as Morgan, whom Ginny had almost forgotten, cocked her head and stared at them.

"The first thing we’ll want to try is a basic levitation spell," she said in clipped tones, ignoring the werewolf, "from there we’ll try to see if we can jinx it into doing something."

"Oh, that should work very well," Caleb rolled his eyes. Morgan whoffed slightly, suddenly standing and trotting over to Ginny, who glared at the ground in response.

"Do you have a better idea?" she snapped, raising her eyes to Caleb.

"Yes, I do. Let’s get ourselves to that drafty old barn and wait for Mr. Black and our dear Malfoy to return. It’ll be a sight safer than trying to fly something we’ve never flown before."

"Why don’t I kick you where you’ve never been kicked before," Ginny growled, scowling. Caleb threw his head back and laughed while Morgan yipped, an almost amused sound.

"Heavens, Miss Weasley, I had no idea your wit was so sharp! I’ll have to ask Draco next time I see-"

"Are you going to help me or not?" she interrupted, standing abruptly and turning from him so he wouldn’t see the tell tale flush on her face.

“Of course I am, fair damsel,” he replied with a smile. “I dare not refuse such a determined young woman. I've heard rumor of your Bat Bogey Hex, it's something of a legend!”

Ginny pursed her lips slightly, obviously trying not to smile as she shook her head. She just couldn’t seem to stay angry with the impetuous Anderson.

“All right then, Wingardium Leviosa,” she commanded, pointing her wand at the carpet.
It rose about four feet off the ground and Ginny grinned at Caleb, hope flaring in her heart. Grabbing his hand, she stepped onto the carpet and dragged him with her, though he seemed reluctant.

“What’s wrong with you?” she laughed, her spirits lifting as the carpet continued to hover. “We’re halfway there.”

“Maybe we are, but maybe we aren’t,” Caleb replied gloomily as he eyed the carpet suspiciously. “We’re levitating, now how do we fly?”

“Well, let’s use a basic flying charm,” she said, lifting her wand again.

“No, let me try this one.” Caleb grabbed her wrist, a grin on his face. “I know a few incantations that might do the trick.”

“So do I,” she said with a touch of impatience. Caleb’s grin only widened.

“I’m willing to bet I know a few more than you do. Let me try it out, alright? Besides, how else am I supposed to feel like your rescuer?”

“You’re impossible,” Ginny observed, her lips pursing.

“All part of my irresistible charm; now stand back.”

Ginny stepped off the carpet and caught Morgan staring at her. With a slight glare she turned her back on the werewolf and focused on Caleb’s effort.

“Volare,” he whispered. “Come to me, Winds of the Four Corners!”

Ginny felt a breeze stir her hair, but wondered if that was part of the spell. Then she wondered if they should be standing on the levitating carpet in case it tried to leave without them.

“Asportare, into the sky and beyond!"

The breeze had strengthened noticeably, and Ginny turned wide eyes on Caleb, impressed. She didn’t know what particular spell he was using, but wasn’t surprised that he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He was a Slytherin, after all.

Very suddenly she saw Draco’s face in her mind, smirking with superiority, his eyes burning with some nameless emotion. His hair wasn’t as sleek as normal, and his skin seemed a bit dusty. Not the tidy Draco she knew from school, and she felt a ripple of warmth spread through her. Slytherin...

A withered leaf smacked into her face, bringing her attention back to the moment. The wind was now blowing hard and Caleb was watching the carpet intently. It had risen another foot, but was otherwise hovering as before. With a slight shake Ginny banished her disturbing thoughts and stepped towards it.

“What now?” she cried over the wind.

“Now we get on and test it. I’ve never actually tried this spell, it’s the base spell for racing brooms. Might be a bit tricky to handle.”

“Only one way to find out,” she shrugged and clambered on. Caleb followed, walking to one end of the carpet and pointing his wand forward. The wind increased, whipping their hair around them. Then Ginny felt the carpet move. Her heart leaped forward.

“Yes!” she screamed, leaping on Caleb to hug him. With an appreciative grin Caleb tried to wrap his arms around her, but she laughingly pushed him off before he could.

“Concentrate!” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am!” Caleb extended his wand out and up. The carpet moved forward again, but Ginny didn’t feel it rising. She was about to comment on this when a loud bark and a dark shape leaping onto the carpet next to her made her jump and gasp.

"Was wondering what she'd do," Caleb shouted, looking down at Morgan with a not-quite-friendly eye. Ginny opened her mouth to suggest they push her back off when another shape dropped from the tree branches onto the carpet next to her. Before she could do more than jump in fright, the figure snapped forward and grabbed her, spinning her around to pin her arms from behind.

"Caleb!" she screamed, struggling and kicking to get free. Caleb was looking at her with wide eyes, his face drained of color. That was when Ginny saw Relah emerge from the shadows and run straight at Caleb. Before she could scream out a warning a hand slammed over her mouth, causing Ginny to squirm and whimper in pain. By the time she was able to look again Relah had the young Slytherin in a headlock, his face turning purple as he struggled to free himself from her crushing grip.

"Stay still or I'll kill you this moment," a voice hissed furiously in Ginny's ear. It was the Celt, and Ginny immediately went limp, her memory of almost being suffocated by him suddenly fresh in her mind.

"Now, where is Malfoy?" he whispered in a softer, but no less furious, tone. Ginny shook her head, indicating she didn't know. But the Celt wouldn't accept this.

"Relah," he said in an icy voice, "if she refuses to answer my question in a way I find acceptable, crush the boy's skull."

Ginny felt her heart stop for a moment, her whole body going numb at the pronouncement. The Celt slowly removed his hand from Ginny's mouth, then used it to pin her arms more securely. Relah was wearing an eager grin, looking at Ginny as if she hoped she would lie.

She wants to kill us, Ginny thought miserably, certain that the female would kill Caleb regardless of her answer. And she wouldn't be punished either, because Draco was their objective.

"Miss Weasley, where is Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated in her response. She couldn't be sure they'd accept that she didn't know. She needed to stall for time!

"He was here," she began slowly, "and his leg was broken. But—"

"Yes, his leg was broken," Relah interrupted, frowning. "How was it mended? And how did you two get your wands?"

"I—well, that's a bit complicated. You see—"

"Laighlinne, didn't you have their wands?" Relah broke in again, looking at her leader in puzzlement.

"I gave them to Samson for safekeeping," the Celt replied.

"That oaf?" Relah spat. "He's useful, Laighlinne, but he's dead stupid! He either dropped them or—"

"Enough!" Laighlinne roared, pushing Ginny forward, no longer trapping her but keeping a death grip on her arm. "The boy can't be far and we need to find him. I'm going to ask you just once more where he's gone, Miss Weasley, and if you don't answer me I'll kill the both of you right here!"

Ginny pulled herself weakly away, wanting to get free of the Celt but knowing she wouldn't succeed. She felt her heart pounding faster than she'd ever thought possible, and the numbness returned. This is it, she thought, we're dead. The tears threatened to return, but Ginny was sick of crying. If this was to be her end, she wasn't going to die on her knees, so to speak.

"I don't know where he is," she cried, "Someone came and—and mended his leg. Then he took Draco with him. That's all I know!"

"You lie," Relah snapped, dragging Caleb forward as she walked towards Ginny, "You know where he's gone, and—"

Relah stopped speaking, lifting her face and inhaling deeply.

"Someone has been here," the Celt said softly, looking first at Ginny, then at Caleb. "Who was it?"

"We can track them," Relah said suddenly. "Let's just kill them and go."

Laighlinne opened his mouth to reply, but before he could a dark shape suddenly leapt out of the bushes next to them, attacking him. Both he and Ginny, who was still caught in his iron grip, tumbled to the ground.

Relah screamed his name and ran to them, releasing Caleb. The young Slytherin wasted no time. Diving for his wand, he began to run for the cover of the trees. The Celt released Ginny at the same moment, and as Caleb ran past Ginny called his name(,) but the young man didn't stop.

Damn you Slytherins! she thought furiously, lifting herself from the ground and running after him without looking back. As she reached the edge of the clearing Ginny heard a yelp of pain and half turned to look back, but she couldn't see anything. It was probably Morgan, Ginny thought, feeling a blind panic threatening to overwhelm her again. Forcing herself to run faster, she tore after Anderson with all the speed she could muster.

*************

Draco walked quickly beside the silent Black, his mind whirling with too much information. The spy had not been whom he’d expected, and the information he’d received had blasted all of his ill formed suspicions to dust. He knew more than he had an hour ago, but his understanding of things was even less. What was going on?

“We need to hurry,” Sirius interrupted his chaotic thoughts, “if our source is right, Ginny and your friend will be sitting ducks in that barn.”

“If they went there at all,” Draco mumbled, quickening his pace.

“What?” Sirius frowned.

“You know her,” Draco replied irritably, "anything could distract her and pull her off in another direction. For all we know she could be trying to walk back to Hogwarts!”

“I highly doubt that,” Sirius pursed his lips, “She isn’t that stupid.”

“No, but she’s that brave,” Draco growled. “Which is almost the same thing,” he added in an undertone.

“Do, please, try to keep your whining to a minimum,” Sirius bit out coldly, “It’s irritating.”

“So’s your presence,” Draco snapped, “but you don’t hear me complaining.”

"Oh yes I do, about everything. Do me a favor and untwist your knickers, all right?"

“I’m not wearing knickers,” the younger man mumbled sullenly. Sirius wrinkled his nose.

“I didn’t need to know that,” he said with mild disgust. Draco shrugged and continued walking. His head was bowed and his eyes unfocused, and Sirius thought he seemed to be bearing a great weight on his shoulders.

Must be terrible, being a rich boy with too many connections, he thought with a touch of amused irony. The boy had fallen victim to a scheme to discredit his father, and Sirius felt a bit sorry for him. Still, rich boys occasionally needed a good kick in their perspective. It tended to bring on a measure of maturity.

He looked over at Draco slyly, whose frown had taken on a slightly petulant air, and smirked.

Sometimes it brought maturity, but the amount was pretty variable. From the looks of things it might do no good here. Sirius’s smirk widened as he thought of Lucius Malfoy.

Couldn’t blame the boy, really, for a familial defect. He hurriedly repressed a snicker.

“What are you laughing at?” Draco immediately pounced on an excuse to be angry.

“Nothing,” Sirius replied smoothly. “We’d better hurry.”

“Why? They’re probably hiding in a tree or something.” Draco looked around with mild interest.

“What?” Sirius was really feeling the urge to belt the young Slytherin.

“Like I said, she’s liable to do anything. And it will be the last thing you’ll expect.”

Sirius’s frown deepened as he stared at Draco. “You seem to think you have her down pat,” he said with false smoothness.

Draco stiffened slightly, “It doesn’t take much to know a Weasley,” he said dismissively, “they adore appearing the rebels.”

“Ah,” Sirius’s brow smoothed. “That’s no way to talk about a girl who’s saved your scrawny neck and defended you rather vigorously.”

“And I’m not ungrateful,” Draco replied, a small amount of sarcasm in his voice, “but she’s certainly lived up to my expectations. Reminds me of her brother.”

“And I think she’d be honored to hear you say that,” Sirius snapped.

Draco sneered nastily, “Must be that Gryffindor pride.”

Sirius’s fist curled, “Yes, quite unlike that Slytherin cunning which waits to see who's winning before deciding what to do."

"At least we're on the winning side," Draco smirked, feeling his gut grow icy.

"At what cost?" Black responded instantly. Draco fell silent as they continued to hurry towards the barn. Cost was nothing, only power mattered. To have power over friends and enemies alike, power to make them crawl on their bellies to you—that was what mattered. Cost wasn't a consideration because the end result would far outstrip what one paid.

The words had never felt so hollow to Draco before, especially now that he was running for his life from people who were supposed to be allied to his family. Did his father go through this often? Was power really worth having to constantly fight off those who were eager to take it from you?

"I've already had this argument," he said through clenched teeth, "and I'm in no mood to rehash it."

"Did you?" Sirius asked with interest, "How badly did you lose? I'm betting you argued with Ginny."

"No, actually, I argued with the other Slytherin," Draco replied sarcastically, "and I didn't lose."

“Funny, how I hear so many of you say that,” Black smirked, “yet you can listen to your parents for hours as they spout the most ridiculous rhetoric imaginable, so I guess it comes down to Slytherins being selectively blind and deaf. I suppose it’s no wonder none of you lose an argument!”

Draco said nothing, preferring instead to slow his pace so he could fall behind Black and not have to look at him. He refused to give the older man the satisfaction of knowing he'd hit on a sore point.

Dead teenage boys whose lives had been snuffed out for no better reason than the hunger of bloodthirsty creatures, human beings looked upon as nothing more than cattle to be slaughtered when it was time to feast. But did that count? At least…at least the boy’s death had served an understandable purpose. But wasn’t the cleansing of the wizarding populace a noble and worthy cause? He’d been taught his whole life that it was, that Halfbloods and Mudbloods fouled their race, sunk the honor and prestige of the old, established ruling families and the wizarding community in general. But then why did they happen? Why were magical children born to Muggles in the first place? It couldn’t be a simple accident of nature, as his father so often dismissed it as. There were too many of them. And why were Pureblood families becoming more rare? Why did the accident of being born outside the wizarding world mean you were unworthy to join it? Why did the absence of magic from your being make you unworthy to live?

Why had he always accepted that these things were so, never once questioning their logic or sense?

He shook his head, not wanting to reflect on these deep and disturbing considerations which called into question everything he'd held as truth. Instead he thought of the moment the spy had stepped from the shadows of the trees. He'd been a small, slender male who moved with an almost effeminate grace, speaking rapidly and succinctly, and allowing no questions. The heads of the vampire nation were still willing to cooperate with the Ministry, and had planted a spy directly in with a group of organized rebels who’d joined up with Voldemort’s forces. That particular spy had been in contact with the one Draco and Sirius had met earlier (who was actually just the middleman obtaining information), and confirmed that a member of the Inner Circle itself was moving to destroy the Malfoy family. The first moves had been designed to show up the Malfoys as weak, which prompted the false explosion attack on Draco at Hogwarts. Draco had tried to protest that the explanation made no sense, as attacking him would hardly discredit his father, but the snooty vampire had waved him into silence, insisting that this was the only information he had about the attacks at school. He did, however, have more on the attacks against Lucius and Narcissa. Draco had been shocked into silence at these words.

"My parents were attacked?" he'd whispered.

"Not exactly," the skinny vampire replied, "Lucius Malfoy hasn't been directly attacked, but the family business interests have been interrupted, or interfered with. I don't know how. Your mother, on the other hand, has been attacked twice. Once as she was leaving a theater performance in London, which was thwarted by Nigel Parkinson. The second attack happened last Tuesday. Malfoy Mansion was breached, and your mother only escaped by taking refuge in one of the secret rooms in the wine cellar, I'm told."

Draco had stared, his head whirling with images of his mother being chased through the labyrinthine halls of Malfoy Mansion by cloaked figures. The secret rooms would have been perfect, as they only opened if you used the correct passwords, and the passwords were known only to the three Malfoys. Fury began to boil through him. How, how had the intruders gained entrance to Malfoy Mansion? It was one of the most impenetrable dwellings in the entire wizarding world! Someone had to have breached the trust of his father, a close friend or a servant. The thought made Draco tremble with anger, and after a few moments he'd foolishly jumped forward and tried to grab the vampire to demand more information. The creature had pushed Draco away with one hand, sending him flying into some thorny bushes. Draco scowled with remembered humiliation. Black had helped him up and they'd taken their leave directly. Draco had no idea what they themselves had spoken of.

"Wait," Sirius raised a hand to stop Draco from advancing any further. Irritated, the young blond shot a glare at the older man.

"What? Do you hear the flapping of wings?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"And if I do?" Sirius retorted in a distracted voice, his face tilted towards the sky.

Then I'll run, Draco thought irritably. He was particularly ruffled about his own choice of words. After all, vampires fly by all sorts of means, or so he'd been taught. What if they were descending this moment?

Then Black will tell me to run, then we'll get caught, and finally we'll die, he mused, wondering if death would be such a bad idea compared to all this running and fright and intrigue.

Then he heard a scream.

Draco stiffened, his attention flying in the direction the scream had come. It was Ginny. She wasn't here at the barn! Sirius grabbed the cloth of Draco's robes and began to run. "Come on!"

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He began to tear ahead of Black, a cold feeling in the pit of his belly. The stupid vampires had caught her, and both she and Caleb were dead if he wasn't there with them.

"Slow down, Malfoy," he heard Black hiss loudly from behind, "we don't know who else is there!"

But this only spurred Draco to run faster. If reinforcements had arrived then their focus would be to find him, and their interest in keeping his friends alive would vanish…

Did I just call them my friends? A detached voice in his mind wondered. But he had no time to consider this at all; he had to get back to the clearing since the idiots obviously hadn't left it. He privately vowed then to strangle them both.

"Malfoy!" Black hissed louder, and from further away. A small part of Draco rejoiced in leaving the insufferable fugitive behind. Maybe now he'd get some peace from the bastard's constant goading.

Right at that moment, as Draco hit top speed, he slammed into a solid object face first, knocking the wind out of him. He felt himself hang in the air for a moment, bright stars exploding in his vision, then felt his body fly backwards and slam into the ground. What little oxygen he'd had left escaped him, and he felt the world start to recede and grow dark.

Harry bent carefully to examine the ground around the carriage they'd found. It seemed to have been abandoned, but there were signs that it had been used recently. The wheel tracks weren't more than a day old, and there was no significant settling of dust or dirt. Lupin was sniffing around eagerly, and the stiffness of his tail made Harry suspect he was close to finding something.

Ron let out a sigh, frustrated, and Harry frowned in sympathy for his friend. The idea of Ginny trapped out here in this wilderness was frightening, and Harry was desperate for some sign that she was alive. Hermione laid a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder, her eyes meeting Harry's for a moment before turning quickly away. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was. If Ginny was dead, what would they do to comfort Ron? How in the world would they comfort themselves? Harry felt his heart thud painfully, feeling his fear become a terrible wave crashing over him. For the first time since their leaving Hogsmeade he began to entertain thoughts of Ginny's suffering, and he began to understand something of the fear his elders often went through over him. The act of pursuit had allowed him to stave off the helplessness for a short time, as taking action had always comforted him, but it was almost dawn and they'd yet to find a single token other than Morgan's necklace to indicate where the kidnappers had gone, or what they wanted. What if they didn't really need her? What if this was all some elaborate trap set for himself? Would Ginny's life only be useful so long as they thought someone was coming?

“Anything yet?” Snape asked curtly, his now normal eyes sweeping the shadows of the woods almost imperiously. Lupin whoffed without looking up from the ground, his nose carrying him further into the scrubby bushes. Hermione turned to the Potions Master and carefully cleared her throat.

“Sir,” she began slowly, “do you think it's possible that they transferred to another vehicle and left the area completely?”

“That's what we're here to find out, Miss Granger,” Snape replied coolly. He took a step towards the retreating Lupin but was stopped when Ron spoke next.

“How can we be sure what they did?” He demanded. “For all we know they could be hiding just over that ridge and unable to say anything!”

“Well by all means check it out, Mr. Weasley,” the Potions Master sneered. “I trust you'll give a yell if you find anything.”

Ron blushed. "When it comes to my sister, I'll leave no stone unturned," he declared forcefully. Snape paused and half turned towards him.

"I wonder, Mr. Weasley, how you believe your own eyes and ears to be superior to a werewolf's?"

Ron's mouth snapped shut and Hermione's eyes closed impatiently. Harry felt his own face twist as he conceded the point. Still, would it kill Snape to say something for once without verbally trouncing them? Lupin growled suddenly, drawing everyone's attention and making Ron step forward eagerly. But when the growl grew agitated and Lupin shot into the bushes, Snape barked at them to stay back and followed the werewolf alone. Hermione reached for Ron's hand, her eyes intent as she stared in the direction Snape had disappeared in. Harry stared at the tree branches and sky, as if by some miracle Ginny would suddenly appear there, safe and sound.

A moment later, they were startled by Lupin's urgent howl. Unable to bear the suspense, Ron tore his hand from Hermione's grip and bolted into the brush. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before following. Harry tried to squelch the alarm that was rising in him, but the remaining darkness was oppressive under the heavy canopy above. Too much time had passed with no real clues.

He skidded to a stop right behind Ron, who was standing stock still as he stared at the ground. Snape was just beside him, his profile hidden in the gloom. Harry stepped around Ron to see what they were staring at, then wished he hadn't. A man lay on the ground, his limbs sprawled out, his hands twisted in frozen struggle. He appeared to be about middle age, with graying hair and a portly middle. His throat had been torn out.

“No witnesses,” Snape murmured sardonically.

“Who is he?” Ron choked as Hermione came up behind them and gasped, her hands flying to her face.

“Most likely the driver of that coach,” Snape replied, staring hard at the ground. Harry swallowed hard, wondering if the man had any family, and if they missed him. Hermione turned away as well, and Harry thought he caught the glitter of tears in her eyes, though she made no sound. Sighing, Harry wondered if he'd ever know a time where evil didn't reach out and attempt to destroy those he cared for, or rip unknown families apart.

But the man had helped kidnap Ginny, and that made him an enemy. Harry shook himself slightly and forced himself to look away. The man was dead, with no information to offer them. Best to get Lupin back on the scent trail, if it still existed. He opened his mouth to say so, but was cut off by Snape.

“Lupin?” he snapped, peering around intently. Harry looked around as well and realized his friend was gone.

“Professor?” He called. Hermione took a few steps towards some bushes, squinting as she attempted to see past the shadows. Ron blinked owlishly, obviously still shocked. Snape strode away, walking in a half circle through the bushes and trees before heading back.

“The sun will rise soon,” he said smoothly. “We'll have to continue without the werewolf.”

Harry turned to the Potions Master in shock. “We can't just abandon him here!”

Hermione agreed, but Snape's lip curled as he fixed his cold gaze on Ron.

“Every moment we delay sets your sister further out of our reach. It will take Lupin some time to transform, and even more time for him to recover enough to move. If we wait, she could very well disappear forever.”

Harry felt his guts squirm and freeze and privately hated Snape for being right, and hated Fate for putting this horrible choice before them.

Ron's pale face was slack for several moments, but then his expression turned grim.

“I'm sorry Harry, but I have to find my sister. You can stay with Lupin, though. He'll need someone to take care of him and get him back to Hogwarts.”

Harry's fists clenched as he agonized privately. Then, with an expression as grim as Ron's, he turned to Hermione.

“You're the best with directions and I know you took a course in field medicine. You stay and wait for him to turn up, then get him back to Hogwarts immediately.”

Hermione's face flushed, her eyes sparkling with anger as she opened her mouth to protest. Harry cut her off by grabbing her hand.

“Please,” he whispered, his eyes pleading. “Please help him. I can't sit still, and I can't be with both of them!”

“No one's asking you to be,” Hermione snapped. But her words lacked any real sting. Ron needed Harry's strength like never before, and she realized that her personal feelings for Ron wouldn't replace Harry's steady presence.

“Leave me your broom, Ron,” she said finally, wiping her eyes. Ron's eyes glowed with thanks as he handed it to her. He reached for the hand Harry released and looked into her eyes.

“I'll be back, I promise,” he said softly. Hermione smiled tremulously.

“You'd better, or you'll miss your N.E.W.T.S.”

“If you're quite finished Mr. Weasley?” Snape interrupted, looking disgusted.

Harry picked up his broom and prepared to ride alongside with Ron, silently hoping that everyone would meet again at Hogwarts. As he and Ron kicked off in unison the wind seemed to chill him to the bone, and he wondered if anyone would survive to see the fullness of the new day.

**************

Draco felt the world spin as he lay on the frozen ground. He could hear Black shouting, then, incredibly, heard Weasley's voice join the fugitive's. He forced his hands to push him up from the ground, struggling to regain his breath as he raised his head.

Ginny was there. As Draco's vision cleared he felt relief loosen his chest, enabling him to breathe easier. She was helping someone stand and talking fast to Black, who was suddenly standing over Draco and roughly hauling him to his feet.

"They're right behind me," Ginny said frantically. As she darted a fearful glance behind her Draco realized whom it was she'd helped up. It was Anderson, and he was rubbing his head.

"His bloody skull's made of stone!" Anderson exclaimed with a glare in Draco's direction. He seemed about to say more, but before he could Ginny started yanking him forward, right as Draco himself was pushed roughly by Black.

"Let's go," the older man growled as they began to run again. "We can try to lose them in the woods."

Draco was about to reply when an ear splitting shriek rang out behind them. Turning as he ran, Draco felt his blood freeze at the sight of the Celt tearing through the bushes behind them. He could see the vampire's eyes glowing with fury, his long fangs exposed in a vicious snarl. Relah was right behind him.

"SCATTER!" Black shouted suddenly. Draco felt the scraggly fugitive's hands shove him forward and to the right, and his feet blindly obeyed. There was no way the vampires would be forgiving at this point. The group had tried to escape and now had an adult ally helping them. If they were caught they would all certainly be killed. He had no illusions as to his seeming importance; it wasn't worth the vampires' insulted pride.

He had no idea where he was going, he only knew that the danger was chasing madly after him, and he had to run. He crashed through low branches and thorny bushes, his head throbbing from where it had collided with Anderson's.

This is wrong; you're not in control! A voice in his head screamed. Draco looked about wildly, seeing only darkness and trees surrounding him. His ears seemed to open suddenly, the moaning wind sounding chill to his ears, but he knew that was because he was now aware of himself and not simply panicking. He slowed his pace, trying to hear who or what was near him. There were shouts behind him, and a sudden loud bang. Someone had fired off a spell, and judging from the high pitched shrieks, Draco guessed it had been a fire spell. A second later there was more shouting and the sound of bodies tearing through the underbrush. Draco chanced a look behind him, and his heart almost stopped when he saw a glowing pair of eyes rushing towards him.

"Come back here," a female voice raged. Draco forced his legs to move faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he felt the vampire woman gaining on him. But he knew it was no use. A bare second later he felt her hands grip his upper arms and his body start to rise. She had flown to catch up with him, rising to the tree branches in a matter of seconds.

"Stop struggling, whelp, or I'll drop you from here."

Draco struggled, twisting to break the woman's grip on his arms. She was hurting him, a testament to her supernatural strength, but Draco suddenly realized he'd been wrong. If she was set on killing him, she would have done so immediately. His mind moving furiously, he tried to seek an advantage as he continued to writhe in her grasp, making things as difficult for her as possible.

Relah, however, had tired of the game. In a shockingly fast motion she released his arms, leaving him hanging in mid-air for a split second, then Draco cried out as pain ripped over his scalp.

She was holding him by his hair.

Draco immediately ceased struggling, both of his hands tearing at hers in an effort to escape. In just a few seconds he gave up, tears of pain leaking from his eyes as he gripped her hand helplessly, trying to lift himself somehow to alleviate the pain. He could feel strands of his hair ripping out from the root.

"That's better," Relah purred. "You've been more trouble than you're worth. Don't tempt me any more to kill you."

"Your braided friend wouldn't like that, I'd bet," Draco growled against the pain. On top of the bump he'd received from his collision with Anderson, Draco was certain his head would be throbbing permanently. Relah snorted and grabbed his arm as they floated to the ground.

"I'm sure he'd understand if I told him what a nasty little—"

That was as far as she got. As soon as Draco's feet touched the ground he whirled around and smashed the elbow of his free arm into the vampire woman's face. Blood exploded from her nose and she rocked back in shock, loosening her grip. Draco tore free and ran for all he was worth, ignoring the agony that ripped over his elbow.

She has a damn hard head, he thought hysterically, his skin crawling at her screams of rage.

Please, he thought. Please let her eyes swell shut or something! He turned sharply to the right, hoping to lose her via misdirection if nothing else. But the sound of her footsteps followed. Draco tried slowing his pace slightly and banking into a particularly thick clump of trees and bushes, but again her pursuit didn't falter. Then he heard a swoosh!

Draco felt his heart pound so hard he thought it would burst. He wasn't going to get away, and this time she just might kill—

Someone materialized in front of him so fast he barely had time to slow. A shadowy figure with their arm outstretched was running straight at him. Acting purely on instinct, Draco threw himself to the ground.

"Mucasa Vespertilio!" Ginny screamed. A brilliant flash of purple light burst from the tip of her wand and struck the flying vampire woman head on, instantly halting her forward progress and flipping her backwards. For the second time she shrieked in rage.

"Come on," Ginny cried as she yanked Draco to his feet. The young Slytherin paused to glance at his pursuer, his mouth dropping open as he saw hideous black objects erupt from the woman's nose and begin flapping about her face.

"Draco, let's go!" Ginny grabbed his arm and began running hard, the echoes of Relah's fury ringing in their ears. After a moment Draco turned away and focused on the path, a bemused but satisfied smirk on his face.

He remembered that Hex very well.

They ran for all they were worth, but Draco knew that blind running wasn't going to save them. He could still hear the cries of the vampire woman and, some distance further, the enraged roars of the Celt. They'd lost Anderson and Black, it seemed, but they were going to get hopelessly lost themselves if they continued running haphazardly through this place. He reached out and grabbed Ginny's arm, slowing to a halt.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking at her seriously. Ginny was bouncing from one foot to the other, her eyes wild.

"I thought I saw Sirius heading east. I thought maybe the barn or another shelter might be there."

Both glanced behind them as a sudden shriek from Relah sounded, closer than before. Draco gripped Ginny's arm tighter and they began running east, their progress slowing as they swerved around thick trees.

"D'you think she has the counter-curse for your spell?" Draco gasped as they ran. Ginny nodded.

"I don't hear her anymore. She might already have lifted it."

Draco shook his head, pulling Ginny along faster. Once again he had no idea where they were heading or if they'd even find a way to get out of these cursed woods. Draco silently promised himself then that if he got out of this alive, he'd never set foot in another forest again in his life.

"Draco," Ginny squeaked excitedly, "I see light ahead!"

"Where?" Draco whipped his gaze around and then saw it to their right. A small, dim glow, perhaps from a hand held lantern. That's also when he noticed he could see the sky, and it wasn't night anymore. When did it become morning?

"We don't know if it's friendly," he whispered. "It might be reinforcements for them."

"We've got to try," Ginny insisted. "We're not going to last by ourselves."

We made it this far by ourselves, he disagreed silently. The light was still a distance away, and Draco was unnerved by the silence around them. Where was everyone? Were the blood suckers waiting there to pounce on them?

As they moved closer, Draco strained his ears for the slightest sounds of pursuit. This was a little difficult because his and Ginny's footsteps were likely to drown out anything quieter than a stomp. Still, he had no desire to stop moving. A moving target was harder to capture, or so he hoped.

He changed his mind a second later when they heard a yelp erupt from somewhere in front of them. It was a wordless cry of pain, quickly followed by another. Then a long howl of agony split the silence, and it suddenly seemed to be coming from all around them.

Ginny stopped completely, a look of horror on her face. Draco felt himself grow nauseous, his legs growing numb as a sick fear swept over him. Had they caught Black and Anderson? What were they doing to them? Whatever it was, Draco had no intention of allowing it to happen to himself and Ginny. Grabbing her hand he tore off towards the light.

Ginny stumbled along behind for a moment, then caught herself and gripped his hand hard as they pounded through the gray woodland. All sound seemed to blend together as she ran; their stomping feet, the loud cries of the vampires, the mad yelping, and the swish of greenery as they tore past bushes and tree branches. The dim light they ran for might be help or more trouble, she knew. But what else did they have at this point?

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, the light winked out.

“AAUGH! I hate my life!” Ginny shrieked, tearing her hand from Draco's and running even faster to the spot, as if she would strangle whoever or whatever was there for daring to tease her. Draco's eyes were wide as he wondered what they would do now.

“Ginny, wait—“he began. But the young redhead was past hearing him as she pulled ahead and crashed into the clearing. Draco skidded to a stop just behind a tall oak, reluctant to leave the shadows. Peeking carefully out, he saw Ginny run up to a carriage and kick it, following it up with a punch and a scream of rage.

“Stop it!” Draco hissed. “Have you lost your senses? Get back here!”

Ginny's pale face was twisted with rage and frustration, tears standing out in her eyes though she refused to let them fall. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white, and she stared at Draco as if he were a stranger. Or a target. Draco's eyes widened.

“Ginny!” He pleaded as the nearby brush began to sound with crashes and loud movement. Her head whipped around towards these new sounds, her expression changing to one of fright. But a second later her eyes were widening with joy.

“Ginny! Is that you?” Ron shouted as he ran back into the clearing. Ginny let out a wordless cry and flew into her brother's arms.

Draco blinked, shocked beyond words at the sight. A bare moment later Potter came running up, followed by Draco's Head of House. He felt no comfort at the sight, just a complete numbness that blanked his mind and froze his being.

They were saved, it seemed.

Draco felt himself retreat further behind the tree, part of his mind aware that the sounds of pursuit had died and the infernal howling had stopped. But these didn't really seem to matter. Ginny was talking rapidly to a scowling Snape, who questioned her sharply every few seconds. As Draco stared he suddenly realized that the coach that Ginny had kicked was the very one that had brought them to this horrible woodland. He recognized the loud purple drapes that fluttered in the morning breeze.

I wonder who it belongs to, he thought without caring. His numbness was like a spike of heavy lead in his chest, a dim pain that had no explanation. He thought of Ginny's face as he'd kissed her, her cheeks blushing rosy in a pale and dirty face. Ronnikins would hit the ceiling if he ever found out…

But he wouldn't, because Ginny would never tell him. Just as he would never dare mention it to anyone. He raised his eyes and saw Ginny hugging Potter, still talking as if she'd never shut up. At that moment Draco wished she would. It was over, they were saved. Without ever having the opportunity to examine what he felt, he was going to have to dismiss it. Rather like throwing away a new potion recipe without seeing the ingredients.

As he slowly straightened he became aware of the fact that Snape was asking about him and Anderson. Draco's feet turned leaden.

“He was right behind me,” Ginny was saying, her voice rising and falling, indicating she was looking around. “We lost Anderson, but he was with Sirius.”

“Sirius?” Harry exclaimed. “What's he doing here?”

“And what's he doing with my student?” Snape added icily.

“Saving his whiney arse.” A deep voice snapped from the other side of the carriage before Ginny could reply. A moment later Black stepped into view, followed by a grinning Anderson.

“Great to see you Professor,” he exclaimed.

“Are you sound?” Snape asked, looking him over.

“Yes sir, just some bumps and bruises. Where's Mr. Malfoy?”

“Right here,” Draco heard himself say. No use pretending or hiding. He stepped out into the clearing, drawing close every shred of Malfoy dignity he could muster.

“There you are,” Ginny said in relief. As he walked forward Ginny took in his appearance. His hair was as wild as Harry's had ever been, his robes were torn and he was bleeding from several small cuts and gashes that she was only now noticing. She started to smile, but his expression sent a chill over her. He seemed to be looking through her.

“Good to see you, mate,” Anderson murmured, his solemn expression almost masking the amusement in his blue eyes. Snape immediately asked after Draco's health.

“I'm fine, Professor. Just very tired.” Draco replied quietly. Both Weasels and Potter were looking at him strangely.

“Glad you're alright, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, meaning it. Draco almost smirked.

“Don't be patronizing, Potter. You aren't any good at it.”

“I wasn't—“

“I don't know what you're doing here, Black,” Snape interrupted Harry's protest. “But if I find you had anything—“

“We have more pressing matters to deal with,” Sirius returned the favor with a glare. “There are two vampires on the loose in these woods, and they're after your boy here.” He pointed to Draco.

“Vampires?” Snape was startled. For all their speculations, no one had guessed that powerful ghouls of the night would be involved. “Where? Are they close?”

Ginny, meanwhile, continued to stare at Draco surreptitiously. He seemed to be ignoring her, his attention fixed on the adults as they spat out information at each other and attempted to formulate a plan. He seemed to have suddenly…closed up. His eyes, which had begun to show Ginny his thoughts and allow her a glimpse into the complexities of his heart, had hardened to blank grey stone. She felt anger bubble inside of her. Why? Why was he shutting her out all of a sudden?

“You didn't mention that!” Ron's furious voice cut through Ginny's brooding.

“I'm sorry?” She blinked in confusion.

“Vampires,” Harry supplied before Ron could start yelling. “It's ok, Ron. She's only been with us for a few minutes.”

“They were chasing us,” Ginny murmured, looking around fretfully. There was no sound coming from the surrounding area. Had they given up?

Not likely, she thought. They had probably backed off when they realized she and Draco weren't alone any longer. That didn't mean they were gone.

“I'm sure they're still here, Professor,” Ginny heard Draco say. She glanced at him again, feeling embarrassed and not knowing why.

“Talk about a nightmare,” Ron smiled crookedly. “Kidnapped on a `date'.”

Ginny smiled weakly at Ron's joke. He hadn't forgotten how she'd displeased him by being out with Caleb and Draco in the first place, and he was likely going to launch into a lecture about her bad choices being to blame.

“It's alright, Ginny,” Harry smiled reassuringly. “You're safe now.”

She felt tears threaten at Harry's words. She'd been so terrified the whole night through that she'd felt certain she'd never feel safe again, a feeling she hadn't experienced since Tom Riddle had nearly overwhelmed her. Ginny took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as she did. She'd survived being possessed by Voldemort, she would survive this.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted as Sirius's voice suddenly rose to a shout;

“No, there's a magic carpet nearby, and we'll all fit on it. Harry and I will NOT wait here for you to fetch Dumbledore!”

Snape was wearing a sour expression. “Are you sure about this? Do you even remember where it is?”

“We'll stay till we find it,” Ron said staunchly, angry at the Potion Master's first suggestion.

“I'll find it,” Sirius growled. “But we all need to stick together. Those bloodsuckers could be anywhere.”

“They were chasing me and Miss Weasley quite madly until a few minutes ago. Then they suddenly got quiet.”

“We're a bigger group now,” Sirius said. “That'll make them hesitate. But we still need to hurry.”

He led the way back to the clearing Draco had first seen him at. As they walked Draco found it impossible to know what to feel. He was aware of Ginny's frowning scrutiny, but didn't know how to answer it. It was over, they were safe. She knew what that meant as well as he did, surely. He refused to believe she was filled with wide eyed daydreams of…

You assume the most interesting thoughts, a cold voice in his head mocked. Perhaps the daydreams are yours?

No, no daydreams for Draco Malfoy, he thought, clenching his fists tightly. Malfoys don't live in misty dreams.

Draco became so lost in his own musings that, for a moment, he forgot to be frightened or angry at everything that had happened, or might still happen. He walked in his normal stride, his footfalls audible as he forgot to gentle his steps over crunching leaves or dead branches. He didn't notice the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh until he was almost upon the source.

“Ugh! What's that smell?” Ron asked, his hand immediately covering his nose. Draco stifled a comment as he remembered the body of the boy he'd found. Weasley'd probably faint if he saw it, and Draco found the thought darkly satisfying.

“Never­ mind,” Sirius answered. “This is the place. It's against that tree.”

“No, it's further in.” Caleb said suddenly. “Miss Weasley and I attempted to use it, but got caught. That's how we ran into you again, Mr. Black.”

“You ran into me, you stone-headed idiot.” Draco murmured, a smirk hovering just around his lips. Caleb ignored him.

“How far up? And how did you manage to get it going?” Sirius was asking. Harry followed Anderson as he began to pull ahead of the others in his search for the carpet. He began to explain how Ginny had suggested a simple charm as he walked, but soon faltered as they continued to walk ahead without finding the flying carpet.

“It's around here,” Ginny said confidently. It must have just settled somewhere else since it had no one to guide it.”

Draco looked around more earnestly then. The sky was bright pink and the misty greys under the heavy canopy of branches were receding with the onslaught of morning. A cold, fresh breeze blew across Draco's face, smelling faintly of snow and wood, reminding him of early winter mornings at home when he would take quiet walks with his mother. It was a special time for them, when they would speak of small things, or of nothing. Simply enjoying each other's company. He allowed his eyes to drift over to Ginny, taking in her tousled appearance. Her hair still hung in wild tangles, and her face was pinched with exhaustion. She was walking with her head down, finally relaxing now that there were others around to worry about the dangers. She wrapped her arms about herself and shivered, looking tired enough to drop where she stood. The desire to cradle her in his arms made Draco blush.

At precisely that moment Draco felt movement to his left. As he turned to look, a horribly familiar sound echoed through the trees.

Whoosh!

The blurred image racing at him was unmistakable, and Draco instinctively threw himself to the ground even before he finished turning his head. But he wasn't quick enough to avoid being struck by the Relah's arm as he reached out to grab Draco. The young Slytherin hit the ground hard, rolling away from the hovering carpet as fast as he could.

He heard Ginny scream as the vampires smashed into the middle of the group. He instinctively reached for his wand as he stood up, then remembered he didn't have it. As Draco turned to face the scene before him he saw Ginny throw herself backwards, almost falling in her haste to avoid being recaptured. Draco caught her and, with no hesitation, turned and ran.

The Celt snarled furiously, his eyes turning to Draco at once. Relah belatedly reached over to grab Ginny but missed. Ron and Harry pulled out their wands along with Snape and Sirius, and the vampires shot straight up, crashing through branches and limbs to escape. And to continue pursuit of their real target.

“Ginny! Ginny hang on!” Ron cried as she and Draco fled as fast as they could.

“They're following us, we can't get separated—“Draco gasped.

“Why are they on the carpet?” Ginny demanded, daring to look back and, not seeing them, began to pull Draco to a stop.

“It's morning, their powers have diminished. They probably can't fly very long during the day.” Draco replied, looking around wildly for signs of pursuit.

“Where are the others?” Ginny cried frantically. She had no idea how far they'd run in just those few minutes. What if the blood sucking fiends had captured Ron? Instead of answering, Draco grabbed her around her elbow and pulled her behind a large tree, using his free hand to press against her mouth. Ginny immediately fell silent.

They could hear shouts from a short distance, and Ginny wanted to shake Draco off and head towards them. She recognized Ron's and Harry's voices and wanted to rejoin them before the vampires caught up. But Draco was looking back the way they'd run with fear in his eyes, and that's when Ginny heard that terrible whooshing sound again. Draco pulled her hard to him, wrapping a sleeve around her head as he shoved her down.

Something rushed by them, making the leaves swirl from the ground as it passed. It was gone a second later, but Ginny knew they'd be back. With no other thought but escape she leaped to her feet, dragging Malfoy with her as she tried to relocate the voices of her brother and friends.

“Hurry,” she cried. “I thought I heard them over here!”

Draco was so fed up with running that for one mad moment he was tempted to chase the vampires themselves, just so they'd feel as vulnerable as he had since the attacks began. But of course they wouldn't feel anything of the kind, and he'd get captured. Their companions appeared suddenly ahead of them and he tore his mind away from his own thoughts, wanting to help get them all out of there.

“Miss Weasley—“ Snape yelled.

“Hurry! We don't—“ Ron was looking frantically around.

“There's Malfoy!” Black cried, his wand extended towards the unseen threat of the air.

As Draco watched, however, Black was suddenly blindsided by Relah, who kicked him hard enough to send him crashing into Snape and Ron. Harry managed to avoid the falling bodies by jumping hard to the left, raising his wand as he did so.

“Incendio!”

But Relah lurched forward so fast the spell missed, striking a blurred afterimage instead. Draco had stopped moving forward, his body half bent from his forward momentum as he watched the woman charge at him, arms outstretched, her snarl vicious.

But then the world turned upside down as he suddenly went crashing into the brush beside him. Ginny had knocked him out of the way.

As Draco rolled over he saw Relah, who was moving too fast to stop, grab Ginny and jump forwards onto the carpet, which appeared from nowhere.

“Ginny!” Ron cried, struggling to disentangle himself. His nose was bleeding from where Black's boot had struck his face.

Draco saw Ginny fall backwards onto the carpet with a cry, Relah's expression turning even more vicious as she realized her mistake. Turning swiftly she spotted him cowering under the brush and turned to leap, but at that moment another fireball whizzed past her face.

Harry was striding forward, his expression furious as he began to incant the spell again. He wouldn't miss a second time.

The Celt, staring hard at Draco, suddenly grabbed Ginny and tossed her over the edge of the carpet, but didn't release her. Harry faltered, and Draco's heart pounded as he saw her feet dangling several feet from the ground.

She'll survive, he thought. It's not that far.

But at that moment the carpet shot to the tree tops and began to fly away.

No!

Draco wasn't consciously aware of coming to his feet, he only knew that Ginny was dangling dangerously over the carpet's edge and would die if she fell now. He ran forward, his eyes trained on her kicking legs as they appeared and disappeared above the canopy, vaguely aware that someone, maybe Potter or the elder Weasley, was running with him. They were getting far ahead though, and Draco felt panic rising in him as he thought of Ginny captured alone with the monsters.

They don't need her, they'll kill her!

A sudden, morbidly vivid image of Ginny lying pale and dead, blood seeping from twin holes in her neck, made Draco lightheaded and nauseous.

“No!” He shouted. The adrenaline pounded through his veins and he began running faster than before.

A moment later the carpet inexplicably lowered itself under the trees' canopy. It was still speeding ahead of them, but Draco knew that if he could catch it, he could grab Ginny and possibly pull her to safety. Pushing himself mentally, he began to run even faster than before. A few moments later he'd almost caught up.

The morning was turning bright, though it was still cloudy. Draco was now close enough to hear Ginny's cries of pain and pleas to be released. Relah was sitting at the front of the carpet, her back to him, obviously steering somehow. The Celt was sitting on his haunches, stony faced as he watched Ginny pleading and struggling in his grasp.

He was almost beneath her when the carpet began to rise again.

With a burst of speed, his last reserve, Draco pushed forward and jumped as hard as he could. He willed his eyes to remain open as he launched into Ginny's body, almost crowing in triumph as he hit her back. He slid several inches down before he was able to grip her waist but he succeeded in grabbing her, his face pressed into the small of her back.

His triumph turned to fear, however, as Ginny let loose an earsplitting scream. Only then did he remember that he'd probably put tremendous pressure on her back. Before he could respond or try to jar her loose, the world again turned upside down.

Draco felt himself fly up and backwards as he and Ginny sailed through the air and landed roughly on the carpet. The world spun and Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the pain and dizziness that pressed in on him.

“We have him,” the Celt shouted.

“Finally,” Relah snarled. “What about her?”

“Goodbye, Miss Weasley,” the dark haired Celt smirked as he began to pull Draco's arms apart. “You've been very useful—“

Two fireballs and a blinding red light shot past the carpet. Instinctively Draco tightened his grip on Ginny, determined not to lose her or himself in this chase.

Hurry! He thought, dread filing his heart. Hurry up and rescue us!

He couldn't imagine why he'd been so upset about it earlier.

But any hope he had was suddenly cut of as the Celt turned to Relah.

“We have him, just go!”

The young Slytherin closed his eyes and tried not to cry out as the carpet rose into the steely sky, the wind roaring coldly in his ears.

******************

Dim sunlight illuminated the pale outline of Draco Malfoy's form faintly as he lay unconscious upon an old but comfortable couch. Near him on a short divan lay Ginny Weasley, also looking remarkably pale. The room itself was rather shabby, though not ruined or untidy by any means. The peeling, gold patterned wallpaper and faded blue carpeting seemed to suggest the room had seen better days but the tiny bar and faded tobacco smell indicated that the room still enjoyed use despite its age.

Sunlight filtered in beyond heavy curtains of worn blue velvet, creating dappled patterns of light against the far wall. It wasn't yet noon and, despite the sunlight, the day was still bitterly cold. In the shadows of the dark and unheated room a man watched the unconscious teens, pulling his dark cloak closer around his shoulders and considering all that had happened and all that would be required to bring events to their proper conclusion.

Nothing had worked out precisely as he'd planned it - but he supposed he should have known that would be the case. He'd lived too long in the world to believe things wouldn't go wrong. What surprised him in this case was just how wrong they'd gone, and how quickly the situation had burgeoned into something almost too big for him to set straight.

He supposed he should have expected that, too.

In the end he'd set it straight. He had to. The consequences of failure might mean his own destruction, if the Dark Lord didn't already have it in mind.

"In the end you'll die, Snape," the scratchy voice murmured. "You and Malfoy, and anyone else who crossed us…"

Harry walked around Sirius restlessly to stand next to Ron. Ginny's abduction in broad daylight, with two adult wizards present to boot, seemed to have unhinged him mildly. His eyes were bulging slightly and he kept muttering curses at Malfoy and all vampires in general as he walked.

“I just don't understand,” he moaned, “What do they want with Ginny? If Malfoy's the one they want, why do they keep taking her?”

Harry put a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. This whole ordeal was worse than the Chamber of Secrets and Ron was going insane imagining awful things happening to his little sister, whom he regarded as his responsibility.

“Ginny was a lure, Ron,” Sirius said gently. “Morgan probably knew that Malfoy wouldn't trust her enough to go anywhere alone with her, and so she gambled on his more…chivalrous side.”

“His what?” Harry burst out, almost laughing.

“He doesn't have one,” Ron added scornfully. They would have laughed then, but an icy voice sliced through their incredulity.

“Apparently he does, Mr. Potter,” Snape said softly, his eyes glittering. “Otherwise why would he have pursued Miss Weasley just now when he had an excellent opportunity to escape?”

Neither Harry nor Ron knew what to say to that - but neither were they convinced of Malfoy's chivalry.

“Oh come now,” Caleb spoke up suddenly. “You people give him no credit. Why, just last month, when it rained for three days straight and the final year students had Herbology in Greenhouse Four, Draco took Pansy's cloak, which she'd asked him to hold, and threw it over a large puddle when she told him she was afraid to cross it.”

Everyone just stared at him.

“What?” he asked with an innocent look. “She didn't like his suggestion that she jump over it and he flatly refused to carry her. Seemed like a chivalrous solution.”

“Now that's Malfoy,” Harry muttered.

“If you don't mind, we need to think about tracking these people,” Snape said sourly, throwing a glare at Caleb.

“Right,” Sirius agreed, hiding a smirk.

“They were taking us to London,” Caleb said, his manner sobering. “One of them mentioned that they'd been paid very well to deliver us—or Malfoy, rather.”

Ron whipped around to face Anderson. “London? Why London? How far is it from here?”

“Pretty far,” Sirius muttered.

“London,” Snape repeated. “It could be anyone. Most of the Inner Circle have dwellings in London, not to mention other Death Eaters in the network. And if it isn't an inside job—”

“It is,” Sirius murmured, his eyes strangely unfocused. “I think I know who…”

“What?” Severus snapped, looking at Black with surprise and undisguised suspicion. “How do you—”

“I received some information earlier that I'm only now starting to piece together. I think it's tied in with your boy.”

“What sort of information, Sirius?” Harry asked. Ron watched him intently.

“I received a message earlier tonight telling me that an old friend was holed up in London and awaiting a special surprise. They didn't know what it was, though. I had the impression that it was special news he was waiting for.”

"An old friend?" Snape said slowly, his expression becoming darker. "Anyone we know?"

Sirius ignored the question, thinking hard.

“How soon can we get there?” Ron asked.

“We need to return to Hogwarts. The Headmaster must be informed—,” Snape began but was cut off by a strangled cry from Ron.

“No! We can't wait another moment, another second! There's no telling what could happen. They could kill her—”

“Mr. Weasley, we cannot simply dash off to London without a word to anyone!” Snape said harshly.

“We don't have a choice,” Sirius murmured. “Ron's right. The more time that passes the less likely it is that we'll find Ginny alive.”

“Or Malfoy,” Harry added, hoping to sway the Potions Master.

Snape stood stiffly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He looked behind, as if seeking Hogwarts with his eyes alone, then turned to Sirius. “What do you have in mind?”

“I can summon Buckbeak with my wand. It emits a high tone that only he can hear. If he's within three miles he'll come.” Sirius nodded affirmatively.

“I have my broom. Ron can ride with me. Anderson—”

“Is going back to the Hogwarts,” Snape finished.

Caleb whirled around so fast he nearly fell over. “What? Why, Professor?”

“I'll not risk your neck as well as these two.” He jerked his thumb at Ron and Harry. “Weasley is personally involved, as is Potter by default—,” he said the last few words nastily, “--but you are safe and I'm not about to throw you back onto the chopping block.”

“But….Professor—,” Anderson tried to argue.

“Absolutely not - and that is my final word!” Snape thrust his broom at Caleb and pointed back towards the school.

“But I'm involved too! Malfoy's my friend!” Caleb shouted, his face flushing.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. In fact, as far as he knew, Malfoy only considered him a headache, a rival for the lovely Miss Weasley's affections. When he wasn't pretending he didn't want her affections, that is.

Snape's expression had softened slightly at these words. “I can appreciate that, Mr. Anderson—,” Sirius snorted loudly at this, “—but if you get captured or killed once we reach them, I'll not have done you or your family any favors.”

Caleb glared at the ground. He didn't want to leave but he couldn't deny that the thought of meeting the blood sucking goons again wasn't high on his list of fun things to do. Even so…friends didn't abandon friends. It just wasn't done. Still, facts were facts; he had no idea whether, if their places reversed, Malfoy would do the same for him. Not to mention that leaping back into the lion's den was hardly practical. If he was smart, he'd listen to Snape.

“Wait a moment.” Black interrupted Caleb's thoughts. “If he's taking your broom, how are you getting to London?”

Instead of replying, Snape smirked nastily and asked; “That hippogryff can carry two, correct?”

“Two? What—,” Sirius sputtered. Snape's expression became vindictive.

“Don't look so horrified, I wouldn't sit with you on that thing if my life depended on it. Potter can ride with you while I use his broom. I'll not leave my student to your care.”

“Why not?” Sirius spat. “Unlike some people, I don't hold innocent students responsible for my own misery!”

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth all but disappearing from a face that was white with fury. “Really?” he said finally. “That's not how I remember it.”

Sirius's lip curled, causing Snape's expression to twist poisonously. “We always had different views on matters.”

Ron interrupted then, his expression caught between fear and anger. “Maybe we should get moving? It's a long ride to London, I'll bet.”

“Several hours.” The Potions Master growled in agreement, his eyes attempting to pin Sirius. However, at Ron's words the fugitive dismissed his hated rival utterly, turning away and pointing his wand skyward. Harry heard him murmur a simple incantation and a moment later a sound emitted from the wand. Harry didn't hear it so much as feel it as it danced past him and up into the sky. He smiled and was about to compliment his godfather when something in the nearby trees caught his attention.

He froze, his expression freezing for a moment as he tried to make out what it was he'd seen. A shape, a shadow? His eyes searched the dimness for a few moments, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. There weren't that many places to hide now that the sun was well over the horizon and what shadows that were left were shrinking rapidly even under the trees. He concentrated on the spot and wondered if he should say anything to the others. He wasn't certain he'd seen anything, after all.

The decision was made for him a moment later when a pale hand came into view, gripping the bark of a particularly large trunk. Harry felt his heart jump, a chill crawling up his spine as his arms broke out in goose-bumps. Just as he drew breath to cry out a warning, however, the hand floundered forward, followed by the rest of the person it was attached to. The figure collapsed onto the ground at Sirius's feet, causing everyone to jump and whip out their wands.

It was Elizabeth Morgan.

“What in Merlin's name?” Sirius exclaimed, jabbing his wand at the prone witch. She was wrapped in a torn lavender robe and was covered in scratches. Harry was shocked at how frail and thin she appeared.

“So,” Snape growled, “she finally shows herself.”

“She's been with us all night,” Sirius said, bending to examine the pale form more closely. “While in our animal forms she was able to give me information on where Ginny and the two Slytherins were and whether they were alive.”

He would have said more, but at that moment Ron let out a roar and pounced on the almost unconscious woman.

“Where is she, you hag? What have you done with my sister?” he shouted, flipping Morgan over and shaking her roughly. “What have you done with her?”

“Ron!” Harry rushed to Ron's side and managed to pull him off of the woman, though he had to prize his friend's fingers from her shoulders. There were tears pouring down Ron's flushed face, but his expression was twisted with fury.

“Don't protect her, she's evil! She knows what they're doing! Just ask her, just—“

Ron tried to launch himself at Morgan again, but Harry managed to hold him back. Barely. Snape stepped forward and covered Morgan with his own cloak, then pulled her roughly to her feet. She was unsteady and leaned against him for support, but was conscious.

“Well, what do you know?” he snapped, then turned to Sirius. “What else did she tell you?”

Morgan merely looked at him, her strange hazel eyes unfocused, her body still swaying unsteadily. She needed all of Snape's support just to remain upright and it was obvious that she was in no condition to talk.

“She's been in contact with the Celt for a while,” Sirius said quickly, “but I don't know how long. She helped me recover the kids and warned me when the vampires were about - still, I couldn't tell you for certain what her aims are. She's certainly been duplicitous.”

“How do you know she and this Celt - whoever he is - are working against our enemies?” Snape asked with more curiosity than scorn. “Her word certainly wouldn't be enough even for an idiot like you.”

Sirius ignored the insult, reminding himself that he'd never thought Snape was worth listening to in the first place.

“Word was passed just two days ago,” he replied casually. Realizing by Snape's surprised expression that he hadn't received word yet, Sirius tried not to smirk too much. “The Vampire Nation has kept us abreast of the news they've collected through their spy network, and I met one of their agents last night,” he nodded reassuringly to Ron, who was listening intently to everything the fugitive said. “I came here to make my usual contact, I had no idea Elizabeth and her contact would be here as well. Rather complicated things!”

“In more ways than one,” Harry muttered, looking doubtfully at the unconscious woman.

“I think she's a double agent,” Sirius said grimly, more to Ron than anyone else. It would explain much, he knew, and it would go a long way towards clearing her actions later if it was true.

“Can we trust that?” Snape asked angrily. Ron's eyes narrowed as he stared at the limp form of Elizabeth Morgan. He found himself hoping she was a double agent, one that was working for the wrong side. No one would question him if he strangled her then.

“We may need her,” Sirius replied darkly, his own suspicions fluctuating more than he liked. “It's better if we bring her along. She may know who's behind all of this.”

“Better yet, she may know exactly where they are,” Snape nodded. A moment later they heard the flapping of large wings. They whirled towards the source of the disturbance, wands at the ready, and saw Buckbeak land gracefully near them. The Hippogriff shook his grey head, ruffling his feathers out, then greeted Sirius, who strode forward and stroked his regal head.

“Very well; we bring her.” Sirius nodded towards Morgan. “But we're going to have to rest her up and we'll need a few supplies.”

“Diagon Alley,” Snape said immediately. “It's in the heart of London and we can find whatever we need there.”

“Right then, let's go!” Sirius hopped onto Buckbeak's back.

“Hang on,” Harry interrupted as Snape was about to speak, “who's she riding with?”

Caleb sauntered forward, grinning smugly and holding his broom out at an obvious angle.

Snape scowled as Sirius tried not to chortle once again.

Ginny was initially aware of the dryness in her mouth. An aching, parched dryness that made her instantly long for rain, a pond, anything with silky, cool water to drown in. Her tongue felt thick, sticking to the roof of her mouth and increasing her thirst. Everything else felt far away, though, as if she were standing at the back of a dark tunnel hiding from the world. Something was pushing her forward, however. Sounds and colors flitted through her mind as she gradually rose through the layers of unconsciousness.

A moan to her right caused Ginny to open her eyes. Draco lay on a faded couch, his eyes screwed tightly shut against the sunlight that was shining directly into his face. Ginny raised herself slowly on an elbow and looked around for the window. It was about five feet away from them, with lacy ivory curtains that didn't do a lot to block the light streaming in. Her body ached terribly and she wondered if she'd been trampled on by an army of dragons. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face and trying to clear her head.

Where are we, and what time is it? She wondered. The light could be either late afternoon or sunrise. Still, Ginny felt sure that they hadn't slept a whole day. Or had they? With a start she realized that it had been almost two days since she'd slept last and that had been in Gryffindor tower. The thought made her nauseous. In an effort to steady her nerves she forced herself to study her surroundings. They were in a faded but comfortable parlor, with several windows curtained in blue velvet, except for the one across from them. Presumably whoever owned this place wanted them awake at a certain hour.

There were low tables scattered in various corners holding ornamental lamps of green and blue glass, gilt wallpaper that had perhaps once emphasized the deep jewel tones of the room. Low settees sat against the front and back walls and various wooden curio cabinets holding a variety of delicate porcelain statuettes stood at the east and west walls. In all the room looked pleasantly lived in and Ginny found it ironic that it should be her new place of imprisonment.

“What the bloody hell is this place?” Draco's exhausted, scratchy voice ground out. Ginny turned to regard him and had to bite back a giggle at the petulant scowl on his thin face. It was somehow adorable and yet suitably Malfoy-ish. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut, and his thin lips were set in the most childish of pouts and she imagined he only needed a tender kiss to smooth his whole expression.

Would he let her kiss him again?

“I've no idea - but I'm willing to bet it isn't friendly,” she replied briskly, mentally shaking herself. Best not to dwell on useless thoughts like that. He'd already proven that things would never change between them.

She felt her throat tighten as she remembered those moments after they'd been found by Harry and Ron, then took refuge from them by examining the room further. There were several paintings scattered around the room, the largest one holding the figures of a young bride and groom. The bride beamed happily at the short, mousy man next to her, and the young groom blushed and fidgeted, grinning with pride whenever he met the china blue eyes of his lady. They made Ginny smile. Near them was a slightly smaller painting of the same couple, but many years older. The woman still smiled gently, her blonde hair having turned white, but her eyes were sad. Her husband didn't bother with smiles, but looked morosely out at his surroundings, an occasional tear falling from his brown eyes. Ginny wondered briefly what had made them so sad, but then turned her attention to the rest of the room. As she studied her surroundings, she gradually became aware of her ice cold hands, her bruised upper arms, the exact shade of the carpet, the steady tick tock of the grandfather clock, the cracked and peeling leather stools next to the little bar, the silver platters holding—

Ginny did a double take. There were tarnished silver platters stacked with sandwiches and small wedges of cheese next to three bottles of white wine sitting on the bar itself. Ginny felt her throat tighten further as she saw a drop of moisture roll down the neck of one of the bottles.

FOOD!!

As Ginny stood and was about to crow, however, Draco's voice cut through her euphoria.

“We shouldn't touch that,” he said stonily. So he'd seen it as well.

“What?” she asked uncomprehendingly.

Draco's eyes flicked hungrily towards the tray. “It's not a good idea,” he insisted, standing slowly. “Anyone could have put this here.”

“Yes, they could and evidently did.” She rolled her eyes and moved quickly towards the food. “I'm not going to complain!”

Draco hurried to cut her off, moving in front of her with a determined expression. Ginny pushed him angrily, feeling her stomach growl as the smell of the sandwiches hit her nose.

“What's wrong with you?” she snapped, trying to reach around him for the wine.

Draco, meanwhile, felt his temper flare as he grabbed her hand and removed the wine bottle from it. She couldn't know that this was painful for him too; that the feel of the bottle's moisture on his hand made his dry mouth water horribly. The smell of the food was close to driving him mad - but they had no way of knowing if it was safe. His father had taught him about situations like this.

Remember that many things can be transformed into weapons of both torture and information. Poisoning food and water, for example, are simple ways of obtaining information you need, either with the promise of an antidote, or with Veritaserum.

“Ginny use your head, for Merlin's sake,” he snapped. “Whoever captured us sent vampires to hunt us down. For all we know they might have poisoned the food!”

“So what?” Ginny seethed. Did he really care about poison at a time like this, when their stomachs were so empty they hurt?

Draco felt his teeth grind. She didn't care? She'd fought for her life with all the ferocity of a manticore, spurred both himself and Anderson into action where nothing else could have - even if she'd done it with offensive, presumptive statements - but now she didn't care? In a basilisk's eye!

“You might not - but I don't care to have to watch you wither before my eyes or burst into flame, alright?” he growled, grabbing her arms and trying to pull her back to the divan. Furious, Ginny dug her heels into the faded blue carpeting.

“Will you stop acting like a child?” he yelled as Ginny tried yanking her arms out of his grip.

“Childish? This from the boy who hasn't even outgrown name calling?”

“Don't start with that, Weasley!” Draco whirled to look at her, loosening his grip momentarily.

It was all Ginny needed. She gave a mighty heave of her arms and pulled free, then launched herself at the bar. Draco, incensed at her refusal to listen, tackled her and pulled her down. They fell onto the floor. Hard.

“Get off of me!” she shrieked, her fists pummeling him as she fought to regain her breath. Draco grabbed her arms (after being hit several times in the head) and finally managed to pin them down.

“Will you stop screaming like an idiot and listen to me!” he roared in her face. Ginny's eyes were wide with anger and shock but eventually she became still. She was lightheaded and shaky from struggling with him, her already low reserves of energy almost utterly spent. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to calm down.

“Alright,” she growled through clenched teeth, “why would they poison us?”

Draco was trying hard not to gasp and give away his own weakness. He relaxed his grip on her arms but didn't release her, choosing instead to try and catch his breath. Now that she was lying still he found himself at a bit of a loss. He knew he sounded paranoid but everything they'd been through so far said that their captor, whoever he was, was willing to go to great lengths to accomplish his goal. And they were practically starving. The last bit of food they'd eaten had been little more than scraps provided by the fugitive Black and that had been the previous evening. His stomach growled audibly as he lay there and Ginny raised her eyebrows in sardonic amusement.

“You were about to say?” Her lip curled slyly.

Draco resumed scowling. “It's a very common trick to lace food with either a truth potion or poison to obtain information. I'm betting whoever had us brought here didn't simply want to invite us to tea!”

It was Ginny's turn to scowl as she privately conceded the validity of his point. One bite or drink might have had her spilling her guts. Literally.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered sullenly. “I was just…I'm just really hungry.”

“I know,” he replied, staring at her flushed face. Her eyes were bright; mesmerizing when he looked into them. Now that she wasn't fighting him, he felt a warm awareness of her slender form steal over him. Her lips were pale, but he'd made them pink and swollen when he'd kissed them in that drafty barn. The memory came out of nowhere, jarring the young Malfoy and pulling his awareness of her deeper. His eyes focused on her skin, pale and soft, and on the curves of her face. The line of her jaw melted perfectly into the curve of her cheekbones, and the light of the room seemed to caress her skin, giving it a velvety appeal.

Ginny knew he was staring at her and felt herself blush. She slowly raised her eyes to his face, feeling her heart start to pound. The way he was looking at her, as if he could draw her inside of himself, made goose-bumps ripple over her flesh. His weight no longer felt suffocating but enticing, suggestive of something sweet and forbidden. His pale hair felt silky beneath her questing hand, the sunlight forming a halo around his head. His eyes turned dark and the lids grew heavy as he came closer to her, and she felt her heart open to him. A warm touch on her face made her tremble.

“Why do you have to be so beautiful?” he whispered, sending shivers over her skin. His face was close, his breath upon her cheek. Ginny felt a strange, delicious heat spread through her limbs, her mind becoming intoxicated by his nearness and his masculine, earthy scent. She felt herself pulling him close, felt his sleek muscles ripple beneath his clothing, felt his hands wrap around the back of her neck, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

Would he let her kiss him again?

They moved at the same moment, their lips fusing together with a passion that literally took Ginny's breath away. Her body came alive with strange, thrilling emotions and sensations. A raw and overwhelming heat that made her long for him in a way she only vaguely understood. His mouth was warm and sweet, the faint smell of his sweat teasing her nostrils and intensifying the sensations swimming through her.

What's happening to me? she wondered hazily. Part of her—a large part—didn't care. His beautiful hands were touching her and that was all that seemed to matter. Yet a small voice inside of her kept whispering in fear.

What am I feeling? Am I sick? What's wrong with me?

But another voice was speaking, a louder one.

Draco, I love you! I love you and I don't care what anyone thinks! Whatever you want, I'll give it to you! I love you…

No - what will Mum and Dad think? What will Ron do? And the twins, they'll be furious!

Before these thoughts could penetrate the heated fog in her brain, Draco yanked away from her. So fast it startled her.

“No,” he whispered, backing away from her and looking frightened. “No…”

Ginny stared stupidly at him, confusion clouding her mind. Her body was still roiling with heated emotions and her heart was palpitating in way she was convinced wasn't healthy. Everything felt so unreal, as if she were standing in a dream, and any moment now something would change and take her to some new fantastic place. Draco wasn't even looking at her, was just staring and muttering that word over and over. He pushed himself off of her and she sat up quickly, staring at him and trying to find her voice.

“W-what's wrong?” she whispered, suddenly aware that she was trembling. He didn't reply, just stared into space with his hands clenched tightly. A surge of anger intruded next, increasing her confusion. He was shaking as well, she saw, but this only made her angrier. She wanted to say something, yell out her anger and confusion at him. But she could think of nothing to say other than I love you and this is how you treat me? And somehow she didn't think she had the strength to say those words aloud.

Draco had backed into the sofa and then climbed onto it, his expression dazed and his eyes distant. Ginny stared at him, trying to read what he was thinking without success. She slowly rose to her feet, trying to rein in her emotions and calm her hammering heart. With no thought she walked over to the bar, grabbed one of the wine bottles and drank deeply. Draco didn't try to stop her.

The cool liquid slid down her throat silkily, but made her empty stomach cramp slightly. Ginny grimaced, quickly lowering the bottle and gripping the bar with her other hand as the pain passed. Her physical discomfort threw her emotional pain into sharp relief, and Ginny's hand tightened about the neck of the bottle as she fought to keep angry tears from falling. There was only silence coming from Draco. She turned slightly to peer at him from beneath the cover of her hair and found him still staring blankly at the wall, his eyes still wide and fearful. Ginny's anger boiled over, and she flung the bottle at him. It narrowly missed his head, striking instead the surface of a low table and shattering, sending the wine splashing in all directions.

“Bastard!” she screamed as Draco leaped to his feet in shock.

“Ginny, what are you—what the hell's wrong with you?”

Dizziness gripped Ginny once again; the result of a large gulp of wine and no food. She swayed slightly and gripped the bar more firmly for support as she turned to confront him.

“Weak minded toadstool!” she spat. “Afraid you'll get disowned for kissing me?”

Draco's expression went from shocked to grim. “Maybe I am. Don't tell me you're not afraid of what would happen if any of your brothers found out. Or, Merlin forbid, your parents!”

Not the answer she'd wanted to hear. “They're not here now!”

“Oh come on, Weasley,” he said impatiently. “This isn't…it won't go anywhere. How could it? We need to stop acting like idiots and face facts.”

“Idiots?” she cried, feeling her heart squeeze painfully. “Is that what we're doing?”

Draco scowled. “Yes,” he replied heavily, crossing his arms. “This…this is a fantasy. There's no way we could…dammit, use your head!”

Ginny stared at him, seeing a million pictures in her mind as she lost the battle against her tears. Draco smiling at her as she hid behind that tree, his eyes caressing her as she passed him in the corridors at Hogwarts, the night they laughed till they cried in the kitchens, the first time he kissed her in that awful barn, his fragile coldness when he stood with his housemates. Was he right, and she just being petulant in accusing him? Was it all just pretend until they were safe, and then back to normal? Would he stop looking at her, stop arguing with her? Would everything that had passed between them just evaporate as if it had never happened? How could it? They had shared life and death experiences, had shared danger and had come to depend on each other for survival, how could either one of them just sweep it under the rug and go back to the way it was? Would that actually happen?

He was a Malfoy with a reputation to uphold, of course it would happen! She swallowed passed the large lump in her throat.

“There's only one fact I want to know, Draco,” she whispered through numb lips. “Do you feel anything for me, anything at all?”

Draco's face drained of blood, and he looked as though he'd just been slapped. “Feel?” he shook his head. “What do you—this isn't the time—”

“This is the time!” she yelled, her fists clenching. “You're here and I'm here. No mother and father, no Ron or Pansy, just us. You've been making me lose my mind for too long and I need to know if you feel the way I do before we're both killed and all this time we've had to say or do something real becomes wasted!”

Draco's mouth opened and closed, and he seemed on the verge of tears himself. Ginny didn't care if she'd hurt him, however. She was tired of guessing, tired of pretending everything she felt for him was a result of fear. She loved him, and the thought of him not loving her back was more than she could bear, but she had to know.

“How wonderfully sentimental!” a snide voice observed, making both Ginny and Draco nearly jump out of their skins. They turned to find a short figure in dark robes standing in the doorway.

It was a man's voice that had spoken from deep within the robe's hood, and his identity was kept secret by the white Death Eater's mask he wore. Ginny felt her flesh crawl at the sight. The last time she'd seen figures in those hateful masks had been at the Quidditch World Cup event, and it had been a terrible night.

“Who are you?” Draco demanded, his voice lowering an octave. Ginny's anger with him disappeared immediately.

“I must say, Miss Weasley, that you're almost as dramatic as your mother.” The figure said pleasantly, ignoring Draco's question. “Oh, she put Arthur in some tight spots in her time.”

“What do you want with us?” Ginny asked in what she hoped was a strong voice.

“But I'm inclined to agree with you, Mr. Malfoy,” he continued, walking forward into the room. “If Lucius were here he'd be most displeased!”

Draco flushed angrily. Straightening to his full height, he glared contemptuously at the little man who sought to intimidate them.

“I know you. I'd recognize your whiney voice anywhere, especially after hearing you grovel to my father!”

The short man stopped advancing, his one visible hand clenching. “Watch your tongue, boy. I'm not in a mood for your nasty little attitude!” The little man straightened his back in an effort to look taller, or more imposing. Draco sneered.

“Funny, I never hear you say that to anyone else. Then again, you wouldn't dare, Wormtail!”

Ginny gasped aloud, her heart giving a great pound. Wormtail? The former Peter Pettigrew? Impossible!

Fast as lightening, Pettigrew whipped out his wand and stabbed the tip under Draco's chin. “Just like your father,” he murmured. “Always yammering on about how important you are, and how no one would dare touch you.” He pushed the wand tip more firmly into Draco's skin. “Say anything else like that and you'll see what I dare, little worm!”

Draco's jaw clenched in anger, but he said nothing. Pettigrew nodded after a moment.

“I knew you could be reasonable.” He lowered his wand and removed his mask.

Ginny stared at the face of the Potters' betrayer. His face was chubby and pale, with pointed, rodent like features. He was glaring at Draco, his mouth puckered petulantly. Ginny wondered if he wished he could have struck Draco down, and felt anger bubble up inside again.

“What do you want with us?” she demanded.

“I want nothing with you, Miss Weasley.” The little man replied darkly. “My agents tell me you were the bait that lured young Malfoy into my clutches, and for that I thank you. But you should have been discarded by now. Still, it's not too late.” he added cheerily.

“Leave her alone!” Draco said immediately, moving closer to Ginny.

“It's your own fault for grabbing her, boy,” Pettigrew turned to the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine. “I have to cover my tracks, you know. The Dark Lord hates messes.”

Ginny felt her insides freeze. “What could You-Know-Who possibly want with Draco?” she asked unsteadily. “If he wanted anything at all from the Malfoy family, I'm sure all he would have to do is ask Lucius Malfoy.”

Pettigrew casually searched the back of the bar until he found a glass, then took his time opening the bottle and pouring before answering Ginny.

“You're right, of course,” he said finally. “If our Master wanted for anything at all, he need only snap his fingers-” here Pettigrew's fingers snapped loudly, “-and it is done.”

“Then why all the subterfuge?” Draco demanded angrily. “Why send unknown minions to attack me - and why undercut my father's business holdings? Lack of money would make it difficult to serve him with any sort of ease. For Merlin's sake, my mother was attacked in our own house! I've been attacked, stabbed at, almost blown up, kidnapped - what in Merlin's name is going on here? Such methods are unnecessary, we are loyal to Him! What have we done to offend him that he's found it necessary to move against us with no warning?” Pettigrew started smiling while Draco ranted. A snide, secretive smile, and Ginny longed to slap him. He took a long sip from his wine glass before speaking.

“Yes, your family's been through a lot recently, haven't they?” He seemed extremely pleased with himself, and Ginny suddenly understood.

“You're the one doing it,” she said softly. Pettigrew's smile grew wider.

“Very good, Miss Weasley! Yes, I am the one who's made Lucius's life so difficult. Not an easy task, I assure you. But rather satisfying.”

“You…little…RAT!” Draco exploded, his clenched fists rising. Pettigrew waved his wand in front of him.

“Watch that temper of his, Miss Weasley. I'd hate for him to meet his end in my mother's favorite room.”

Ginny placed a restraining hand on Draco's arm, her eyes never leaving the vile little man. “Why are you doing this?” she asked as calmly as she could. Pettigrew shook his head.

“Well, seeing as you know this Malfoy, I wouldn't have thought you needed to ask. But considering the scene I walked in on…” He gestured nonchalantly.

“Revenge for all the times he made you look bad in front of the Dark Lord?” Draco asked, smirking.

“All the times he's made himself seem as if he were our Lord's most indispensable servant!” Pettigrew shouted, pounding his fist on the bar and causing the teens to jump.

“I have anticipated your need, my Lord. Is there anything else I can do, my Lord? My life is yours, my Lord. Poppycock!” Pettigrew turned and threw his wine glass into the wall, shattering the delicate crystal and sending the amber liquid splashing over several framed paintings. Two of the occupants of one of them, the elderly couple, huffed indignantly and rushed to a painting further down the wall.

“That pompous pansy turned his back on our Lord the moment Harry destroyed his body! He is not loyal, he's an opportunist! Just like Snape!” Pettigrew stopped speaking suddenly, going still as a statue. When he spoke again his voice was no more than a hiss.

“That lanky, greasy haired, good for nothing traitor! How could he have been allowed back into the fold? He betrayed us, he's been sniveling up to Dumbledore all of these years. He still is! Snivellus,” Pettigrew hissed, and Draco scowled at the obvious reference to his favorite professor. “That's all he is and ever was. Only good for tagging after others and telling tales on them, or whispering to the master that someone's cheating on his exam—” Pettigrew paused, his hand clenching into a fist. “Why does no one else see this?”

He walked out from behind the bar and began to pace in front of the teens. Both Ginny and Draco were afraid to speak, not knowing what the obviously mad Death Eater might do.

“And yet they are praised! They are rewarded and sent on important missions while I fester here, forgotten! Which of them has truly served our Lord? Has he forgotten all that I have done, what I have sacrificed?” He slammed his right hand into the bar and it splintered, a large chunk of wood and marble bouncing to the floor. Ginny flinched and gasped as she caught sight of his silver hand.

Harry had told her about it but seeing it brought chills to her being. It looked heavy somehow, its silvery sheen reflecting the sun's light coldly. He could probably punch a person's heart out with it, and Ginny felt her fear rise as she stared at the cruel appendage.

Still, her courage hadn't abandoned her yet. If anything, his tirade made her indignant at his hypocrisy.

“I would hardly call that a punishment,” she said in a low voice, indicating his silver hand. “It's almost a weapon, in fact. And where did you go?” she continued grimly. “You speak of their betrayal, yet I don't recall that you were among the Dark Lord's most loyal servants as they were sentenced to Azkaban!”

“Be quiet!” Pettigrew shouted, his face once again growing petulant. “I wouldn't have been able to do him any service by being locked up.” he added after a moment. Ginny frowned in disgust, not bothering to state that the same could be said of Malfoy Senior and the other Death Eaters who escaped.

“You act as if you know for certain that Professor Snape is a traitor.” Draco spoke suddenly. “I find that hard to believe. Impossible actually, especially coming from a snivel—coming from someone who was suspected of betraying the Dark Lord in the first place.” Pettigrew raised the wand threateningly again, but Draco stood his ground. “Any one of the Inner Circle could be accused of treachery at one time or another, and Snape has always played dangerously and walked a thin line.” As he said this, his eyes darted to Ginny, and it seemed that he licked his thin lips nervously. “But if he's truly disloyal, the Dark Lord would know, and he would reward that disloyalty quite painfully.”

“Oh certainly,” Pettigrew scoffed. “He'll just waltz right into Hogwarts and punish Snape. Better yet, he'll send an underling to do it, one that has the power to be unnoticed and yet can still slip past Snape's paranoid defenses. No problem!”

“You forget the meetings,” Draco smiled coldly. “The many meetings held where the opportunity to punish betrayal could be leveled with impunity.” Again, his eyes darted nervously to Ginny. Pettigrew scoffed.

“Too much important information is shared at those meetings,” he said dismissively. “I never said Snape wasn't useful.”

“The Dark Lord doesn't suffer betrayers to live,” Draco growled menacingly. “No matter their information or positions. They become examples!”

“Enough!” Pettigrew shouted, turning and grabbing his mask in a swift, angry movement. “I won't waste my breath on his pet student, I have too many plans to make! You two will stay here until I call for you!”

With a sweep of his robes he was gone, slamming the door loudly behind him. Draco followed, determined to punish the sniveling rat Pettigrew. But as soon as he touched the knob he yanked his hand back with a cry.

“What is it?” Ginny asked anxiously.

“It burned me,” Draco replied, examining his hand for any injuries. A face suddenly appeared in the center of the door.

“That's just a warning,” Pettigrew's visage said smugly. “The next time, I'll make sure to burn your hand off.”

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to banish the image of Draco stuck to the door as his hand sizzled and popped. Draco simply glared at the image as it melted away, laughing at them.

They remained that way for several minutes, she looking at him, and Draco looking at the door. When they finally moved, Ginny found that he wouldn't look her in the eye.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly. Draco mumbled that he was, then walked over and flopped on an armchair. She tried again.

“We need to find a weakness in that door. I'm not so good at charm unraveling, how about you?”

Draco nodded. “I'm fairly certain I could make some headway,” he replied, looking steadily at the door. The silence descended again.

“Professor Snape would be very pleased to hear you defended him so,” she finally said, just to get it out. Draco's faced tightened momentarily, then he beamed a tense smile at her.

“Thanks,” was all he said before turning away again.

She understood his nervousness. Snape was a member of the Order, something she knew for certain but, of course, he didn't. Obviously Snape's work took him closer to Voldemort than she'd imagined before. Close enough for him to be considered a member of the Inner Circle? She wondered, and not for the first time. Close enough to be called a double agent, perhaps? If this was so, how could they be certain that Snape was really on their side? Was his skill at Occlumancy sufficient to defeat the Dark Lord's subtle intrusions?

Draco's nervousness revealed his uncertainty about speaking of this in front of her. He was assuming her to be completely ignorant, of course, yet how could he? It seemed to Ginny as if it should be obvious that the Weasleys would be involved in any organized resistance. Or perhaps he simply thought her ignorant of the pertinent facts?

Never mind that, what did Draco himself know? She allowed her eyes to rest on him briefly as she considered all he'd just said, and his sidelong looks. How far had he gone into her enemy's lair? How involved was he with the Death Eaters? From the things he'd just said, it would seem he was very involved!

Or was he? He might be merely referencing the meetings that had taken place at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps he was simply stating facts that were pertinent, which backed his own claim that Snape was loyal. He couldn't possibly know of Snape's involvement with the Order, could he?

The thought made her feel sick, as sick as the thought that Draco might already be too far into Voldemort's clutches, perhaps even a Death Eater. She flicked her eyes over to him, noting the stiffness of his posture as he stared at the door. Then she stared at his arms, though they were at that moment covered by the sleeves of his robes. She tried hard to remember if she'd seen a mark, any mark, on either of his arms. Her chest loosened a bit when no such memory came to mind.

“What are you looking at?” Draco asked sharply, making her jump.

“Nothing,” she stammered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I was just…thinking.”

Draco's expression visibly relaxed, but his posture did not. “About what?”

“About when in Merlin's name you're going to get to work on that door,” she snapped. “It isn't going to open itself, you know!”

He answered her with a glare. “I'm thinking a window would be better. The door's obviously trapped, and he'll expect us to try and hit it.”

Ginny nodded and stood resolutely. “Let's get on with it then,” she said grimly. “I'm thinking this little toad's ego has made him forget who he's dealing with.”

“Why would he know?” Draco asked wryly, smiling in spite of himself as he also rose.

“Then he paid no attention to his hired thugs' tales of us,” she tossed her hair and waved carelessly. “Woe to him!”

Draco shook his head and chuckled. He had to admire her spirit. A well known and not insignificant Death Eater had them in his grasp -- in his apparent stronghold -- and she wouldn't back down from the fight. Indeed, the set of her shoulders alone reassured Draco that their escape would be even more interesting than their capture.

With a nod he started for the nearest window.

-->