Words

AN- BE NICE! This is my first Draco/Ginny fic, and I don't honestly read them that often either. But the idea came to me, (anyone who actually takes the time to read my author's notes ever notice how often I use that excuse?) and because it was forming, I had to write it! Please tell me what you think about it, because I'm not to sure yet what I think about it.

Draco Malfoy had always hated decisions. Every type of decisions, too. Small things, like which pair of shoes to wear to the banquet, or which type of broomstick to buy, often left him thinking for hours, until someone would rush him into making a decision, whether it was one he wanted to agree with or not.

But he'd had his entire life to think about this decision without any rush, and he realized now that he had been putting it off. He'd been putting it off, in fact, for sixteen years.

His father had made the decision for him at the beginning of the school year, when he had broken out of Azkaban. That night, Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater, just like everyone had expected of him. Just like he had expected of himself.

And for the first few months, it had been easy enough. He could handle the lying, even the killing. But could he handle the wise words of a year-younger redheaded girl?

Nope.

The latest assignment had been what was killing him, slowly. He had been ordered to act as a spy, and figure out what plans Potter had for the future. He was to act as though he were a spy for their side, while continuing to relay information to the Dark Lord. He had been given a bad batch of Veritaserum by Professor Snape to have his commitment to the light proven, and became a member of the DA shortly afterwards.

Since then he had discovered many things that made him become increasing uncomfortable with his new position. The first had been one of the worst cases of irony he'd ever heard.

“Malfoy, where're you going?” Ginny Weasley asked, slinking up to him. Ever since she had defended him in their first DA meeting along with Potter against her brother, he'd become considerably closer to the youngest of the seven, and while he kept trying to tell himself otherwise, she had become more than a reliable source.

“I'm going home for Yule, Weasley. Why?” He asked, studying the decorations. The cheery atmosphere had always disgusted him, and this year was no better. There was a reason he went home for Christmas.

“Just wondering.” She replied easily, walking down the corridor with him in silence. Normally, they wouldn't walk anywhere together, knowing that in all likelihood one of them would be cursed senseless by a Slytherin, but the halls were empty.

Since this wasn't quite normal circumstances, he was allowed to talk back, right? It wasn't like the Dark Lord would ever know… “What about you, Weasley? The seven of you going to try to fit into a shack for Christmas?”

So that had come out a little wrong. Why couldn't he at least be civil around her? He could even manage to follow Potter's orders, but he couldn't keep himself in check in front of Ginny Weasley? But somehow he was nervous. They hadn't had an actual talk yet, a talk about real things, something other than the war.

But she responded the way a Gryffindor would, taking the hit well. “Yep! My whole family will be there, along with Hermione and her family and Harry and his family and-“

“Potter doesn't have a family.” Draco added before he could stop himself.

Ginny scowled and said, “Don't talk like that. Harry has a very large family.”

“Then why doesn't he go home for Christmas?” Draco asked, knowing this information because the Death Eaters always tried to attack during the summer, but never during the winter at the Dursley residence. Potter was never home during the winter.

“Family isn't who is related to you by blood. Harry's blood relatives hate him. The yell at him, and refuse to feed him, and put bars on his windows, and don't tell him I told you, but I think they hit him too.” Ginny said all of this quietly, with a sad, resigned look, as Draco tried to rearrange everything he knew about Potter based on this new knowledge.

When he proved too stunned to speak, Ginny continued to say, “Harry has a bigger family than you, Malfoy, and I've seen your family tree. Family isn't blood relatives. Family is loved ones. Think that one over Malfoy, and let me know what you think when we get back.”

This new knowledge left Draco to think for hours on end and effectively ruined his vacation. But it wasn't information he should keep from the Dark Lord.

“Do you know anything, Malfoy?”

“Yes sir. I know why Harry Potter never goes home for the holidays. I also know one of his deepest secrets...”

Draco Malfoy still regretted telling that truth to the Dark Lord, but it had to be done. It had been used on Potter, to lure him to Number 4 Privet Drive, and test how noble he truly was by saying that they would spare the Dursleys, his only family but greatest shame, if he gave up his wand.

And Potter has somehow thought like a Slytherin and gotten out of it, tricking Voldemort with another wand, one that had had the same core, but other different characteristics. Maybe there was more to Potter than he had thought.

That wasn't the last time the youngest Weasley had left his mind spinning. She had done it again not a month later, when school had started up again after their first DA meeting since the holiday breaks.

“He shouldn't be such a cocky little shit.”

“Who?” Ginny asked, amused at Draco's angry expression.

“Potter. He's constantly correcting me, and I know he's just picking on me-“ Here, he paused as he saw Ginny laugh.

“That's hypocrisy.” She pointed out, still smiling. Her smile lit up her eyes, and her face, and made everything about her brighter. “You're blaming Harry of being corrective and showing favoritism, but is you think about it, how often have you lived off of it?”

“I never lived off of favoritism!” Draco growled, outraged that she had even suggested it.

“Your whole family has!” She said loudly, still looking amused, but now slightly angry. “Your father was in tight with Fudge for a reason, you know. And that is how he almost lost us Dumbledore when he was `voted' onto the school board! I mean, really, you always use your money or your own threatening methods.”

She was right again, he realized. How had he not noticed his father's methods of living before? His father was like a leach to certain people…those people were higher up than him.

“He would give anything for someone more important than him!” Ginny continued. “And sometimes it's hard to believe that the two of you are related, because ever since I've really gotten to know you, you've seemed so independent, and he seems so needy it's sickening, really. If you want something, shouldn't you earn it yourself? Or you'll never be able to do it again.”

His father would give anything for those more powerful. Money, titles…his son.

Now that Draco thought about it, he had been given the moment he had been born. He had been raised to see things the way the Dark Lord had always wanted him to see them. And to realize this was like wearing sunglasses your whole life and finally taking them off to see sunlight through your own eyes. He had been a puppet his whole life…

But still, even after that conversation, he had given information to the Dark Lord. He had still been the one to tell what new plans Potter was coming up with, though Potter rarely seemed to plan. His ideas were more of a spur-of-the-moment thing…

And even after that talk, they had had more, with similar discussion topics. It had, in fact, become habit now to wait for Ginny outside the DA room, so that they could have their weekly discussions.

One particular time, he remembered asking her if Potter ever planned anything, which had made her smile. She smiled over the strangest things, always finding something laugh at. When he had pointed this out, it had all gone back to what she was about to say…

“What's so funny?” He asked, watching her smile up at him once she was done laughing.

“For a Slytherin, you're a really bad actor.” She replied swiftly, continuing to walk. As he walked sideways, still trying to keep up with her, he asked,

“What does that mean?”

“Well, Harry doesn't plan usually. That's what makes him so fun, really. He's organized in such an unorganized fashion.” He never noticed that this answer was one to his first question, and she had easily avoided his second.

“Bet it wasn't funny when it got his godfather killed.” Draco couldn't help muttering, remembering his mother's interpretation of Black's death. Instantly he felt Ginny's hand hit hard against his cheek. Stopping for a moment to put a shocked hand to his face, Draco asked the angry red-head, “What? It's true! How can you go into battle without a plan?”

“Funny. I seem to remember doing something similar before. I mean, I've been a lot more open since that near-death experience, but I suppose that's what a near-death experience can do. Make you live.”

“Because that's Voldemort's problem, you know? He doesn't live, so he can't live off of the moment. I doubt he feels adrenaline when he fights anymore. I doubt he feels the sadness of the deaths around him. I mean, he doesn't feel anything, including impulse. All of his elaborate plans have been his undoing in the past.”

And of course what she had said made sense. Potter got away with everything with knowledge and intuition. He had suffered under minutes that had seemed like hours under the Crutiaus curse for insulting his master like that, but Voldemort's plans weren't as organized now, and it was becoming harder to fight him.

And now he understood what she had meant when she had referred to him as a bad actor. She could see right through his little trick. But if she knew he was a Death Eater, why did she keep giving him information?

He had asked her once, of course…

“Red!” He called out, running to get to her in the yet-again empty corridor.

She turned automatically to the nickname he had given her without warning recently, asking, “What?”

“What's wrong?” He asked, frowning, as he noticed the look on her face. She shook her head, her long red hair flying in every direction, as she replied with,

“Ron is such a git!” Draco didn't ask what her brother had done, because half of the time or more, the arguments between the Weasley siblings had been over him. Instead, he just said,

“Hey, I know! Food!”

“Food?”

“Yeah, we'll go to the kitchens! Food always makes me feel better!” When Ginny seemed amused again, he asked, “What's so funny now?”

“Nothing. I'm just wondering how Draco Malfoy knows where the kitchens are.” She responded, but all the same she agreed and began to walk with him there, laughing when he said,

“With Crabbe and Goyle for friends, it's hard not to know.”

They talked over everything and nothing, Ginny telling him all sorts of secrets that he wanted to keep, but didn't have a good enough reason to. Finally, when Ginny revealed to his shock that Severus Snape was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, who resided in Sirius Black's old home, he asked, “Why do you tell me all of this stuff knowing that later I'll tell Voldemort?”

“Why do you call me Red instead of Weasley now?”

“Because the name Weasley has become much too common with your large family! But what does that have to do with anything?” He asked, panicking. She seemed disappointed at his answer, but what did she expect? She had to have known that he was a spy for the Death Eaters! She had been hinting that she knew for a while.

“Think, Malfoy!” When his train of thought didn't appear to be telling him why she did everything she did, she replied, “Because I care about you. And I pity you. You never had the choice of dark or light, it was made for you. Harry's known that you were a spy since November, just after you joined! Remember, Snape's a spy, and since he was under instructions to give you a bad batch of potion, we've known all along! We know where your bases are; we know what you're planning, where you're going to strike next! We are one step ahead of you most of the time! So I gave you information I knew you would give Voldemort, so we could mess him up again! I knew you would crack, and surrender, and tell him, so I told you!”

Feeling hurt that he had been used as a tool, he asked, “Then why tell me about Snape? Because that can't be used to your advantage.”

“Because he can be used to your advantage. When you want to make your own decision about whose side you're on, you can go to him for help. We need more spies. But if this will help you decide, here!” She leaned over and, for a moment that felt like an hour, (however, unlike the Crutiaus curse, not because of the pain,) she kissed him, with the same lips that had told him all of those truths without hesitation.

Draco hadn't made his decision yet. He still didn't know what to think, how to react, or what to do about Ginny Weasley, and the information he knew of Severus Snape. So instead he was sitting by the lake late at night, thinking in the silence, and grateful that nothing else was being said to him.

Ginny, of course, didn't like silence. She liked to talk, and listening was just in his nature. It was why they got along so well together. But when she walked out now, and just sat next to him in silence, he realized something as the uncharacteristic silence hit him hard. Sometimes words weren't needed to say what had to be said. When he met her eyes, and kissed her again, he decided that silence was sometimes more powerful.

He would see Severus Snape later, and decide what needed to be said to keep up the façade of a spy. This time, he'd make his own decision, (even if little Ginny Weasley had influenced it,) and choose his own side.

Feeling a burning in his arm he still hadn't become used to where he knew the Dark Mark was, he pulled Ginny away, and looked her in the eye. Together they headed back to the castle, hand in hand, where Professor Snape would take him to the Death Eater meeting.

“Malfoy, do you have any information for us?”

“Not this time, my Lord. I'm afraid Potter doesn't have anything planned, and the Weasley girl isn't talking.”

-->