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DISCLAIMER/ A/N: If Malfoy didn't sneer in the movies, he'd be a lot hotter. Wala lang. Sharing. And of course, nothing, but nothing, is mine.

"This love was a bell that rang unheard in the air."
-Jewel

CHAPTER TWELVE
(bloody complicated)

Draco spotted his mother's owl immediately. She was pure black, with a streak of brilliant blue running from the center of her forehead and spreading out into a V-shape from the top of her head to the tips of her wings; Lucius Malfoy's ridiculously rare and expensive gift to his wife on the last wedding anniversary they had `celebrated' before the Dark Lord's second rising. The owl swooped once around the Great Hall, its wings spread wide, before landing elegantly in front of Draco. There was a piece of parchment and a copy of the Daily Prophet tied around the owl's leg.

His mother had written, without preamble, "The daughter of a wizard Lucius tortured into insanity is asking for compensation. She asked for a thousand galleons; I gave her 500. I don't have such money on hand, so I took it from your inheritance. She could have asked for much more, and you'll see why I gave in when you read the Daily Prophet. We don't need our names dragged through the mud again. Love, your mum."

Draco read the note without comment, his expression unchanging and unreadable. Then he picked up the Daily Prophet.

WITCH SUES MINISTRY, the headline screamed, and under it, in smaller capital letters, "For Violation of Wizard Rights."

Draco scanned the article. Apparently, a wizard named Virreor Laguna had been tortured into insanity by Aurors. They had suspected him of collaborating with Death Eaters. It later turned out he wasn't, but he was already in St. Mungo's. Insane. His wife, Demetria, was suing the Ministry. "Yes, I'm asking for monetary compensation," she was quoted in the article. "But more than that, I'm asking for justice. I want assurance that the Ministry will not allow something like this to happen ever again."

The Wizengamot, as Draco knew from his father, were notoriously secretive about their cases. That this one had reached newspapers meant there was a leak in the Ministry.

His eyes landed on a smaller article in the lower section of the front page. It was about a witch whose father had been tortured into insanity by a Death Eater. My father, Draco thought, and felt an irrational guilt, which he swiftly repressed. He kept reading.

The Ministry wanted her for a witness on their side, to prove that the Death Eaters were doing things equally atrocious and therefore the Aurors were only fighting back, but she had declined. And would continue to, the Daily Prophet hinted, as long as the family of the guilty Death Eater continued to placate her. She had refused to name the Death Eater who tortured her father, since "negotiations are proceeding well with his family, who will be the ones who suffer if I choose to reveal his name."

For a moment Draco was silent, considering. Then he closed the Daily Prophet. "Hand me a quill," he ordered.

Crabbe brought out a quill, and Goyle brought out a bottle of ink. They had been obeying his orders for so long they had it down to a science. Quickly Draco took his mother's note, flipped it over, and scrawled on the other side, "It's fine. Take care of yourself. Christmas is coming; I'll see you soon. Draco." Then he retied the note to the owl's leg and sent it off.

"Who was that?" Crabbe asked. Goyle looked equally clueless. Draco wondered wryly if they would learn to recognize Narcissa Malfoy's striking owl if he ordered them to.

"My mum," he said. Inadvertently, he glanced over towards the Gryffindor's table. They were huddled in groups over copies of the Daily Prophet, too. He searched the table until he saw that splash of red hair. Ginny's arm was around Neville as they pored over something in the Daily Prophet. He felt a twinge of annoyance, which he quashed by reminding himself that Longbottom's parents had also been tortured into insanity.

Draco noted the chalkiness of Neville's expression, and grew thoughtful. Perhaps the Ministry had it backwards. If they forced that daughter of the wizard Lucius Malfoy had tortured to be a witness, it could backfire on them. Demetria Laguna could point out that Lucius was in jail while the Aurors who had tortured her husband were not, though they had done exactly the same thing.

Across the table from him, Blaise Zabini put down his copy of the Daily Prophet. "Scrimgeour's in trouble," he said. For a simple statement, it had penetrated quite swiftly to the heart of the matter. "He's going to be having a difficult time dealing with this."

Draco nodded, his gaze straying back to Neville and Ginny. "He's not the only one."

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"Wow!"

Ron and Harry goggled at the new broom on display in the stores of Hogsmeade. Even Ginny, who wasn't the type to look enviously at other Quidditch players because they had better brooms, was impressed.

They were in Hogsmeade. Hermione had stayed in Hogwarts to help Neville prepare his testimony. They had already received a note from Lupin. Both the Ministry and Demetria Laguna had wanted the story of the trial kept private, and they were furious at the appearance of the story in the papers. Already Scrimgeour's supporters were rallying behind him, while minority groups like centaurs and merpeople threw their support behind Demetria.

The pressure on Neville had intensified, and Hermione, as usual, had risen to the challenge. She was firmly on Demetria Laguna's side, though Harry and Ron still weren't convinced.

Luna was with Hermione and Neville, too. Ginny thought she should stay with them, but Hermione had shooed her away. "We can handle it," she said with a smile. "Go enjoy yourselves."

They certainly were enjoying themselves. They had stopped to gawk at the magnificent new broom almost half an hour ago, and they were still there. Extraordinary. No doubt the price would be extraordinary, too, Ginny thought, grinning. "I'll see what it costs," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the shop. Ron and Harry waved her off, their noses still pressed to the glass window as they stared at the broom. Its handle was made of dark, gleaming wood, and looked particularly vibrant against the plush red velvet lining the inside of its long rectangular case. "QUITAROL" was emblazoned in silver script on the side of the case, and below it, a small silver flame. The silver flame logo also appeared on the broom's handle.

"This," Ron said slowly, shaking his had in awe, "is just…" And he let loose another heartfelt sigh.

"At loss for words, Weasley?" said a familiar voice dryly. They turned.

Draco stood with one hand in his pocket, smirking at Ron, who flushed. "Get lost," he muttered, glaring at the Slytherin.

Draco shrugged and went closer to the broom, ignoring him. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, their scowls daring anyone to get in their way.

"A Quitarol," Draco said, studying the broom. "I heard rumors, but I didn't think it would be released this soon." He sent Harry a faintly mocking grin. "They say it's even better than the Firebolt."

Harry stared back at him. "But if the person riding it has no skill, then it won't matter, will it? Just because someone can afford a Quitarol doesn't mean he's good enough to ride it."

A slight flush rose on Draco's cheeks, and Ron snickered. Crabbe and Goyle stiffened.

"Who is good enough for a Quitarol, Potter? You?"

"You said it, not him," Ron said.

"I don't remember including you in this conversation, Weasley."

"But I remember you butting in on my conversation with Harry, so quid pro quo, Malfoy."

Draco burst out laughing. "An actual comeback? A Latin phrase? Is Granger starting to rub off on you?"

The mention of his ex-girlfriend made Ron furious. Turning red, he whipped out his wand.

Draco touched his wand in his pocket, but didn't pull it out. His smirk stayed in place. "What are you going to do? Curse me?"

Harry grabbed Ron's wand and pulled it out of his hand. "He's not worth it, Ron."

Ginny overheard them as she stepped outside, and she shook her head. Boys. If the air got any more clogged with testosterone, it would be hazardous to any girl who had to breathe in it.

"Hey," she said mildly to no one in particular, joining the group. She linked her arm through her brother's, and watched Draco's face with interest. It phased from surprise to pleasure to confusion and finally, to irritation. He glowered at her.

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he stepped in front of Ginny. "Why don't you sod off, Malfoy? We're done talking."

Draco flushed slightly as he realized that Harry was protecting Ginny from him, for he had been glaring at her like he wanted to do her serious harm. This annoyed him even more than her sudden appearance had, and his glare intensified.

When he had first seen her, he had wanted to kiss her, but of course that wasn't possible with her big brother and ex-boyfriend looking on. She had been hiding out from him since that day she had warned him of Death Eaters, and now, when at last he saw her, he couldn't even talk to her as he wanted. That bloody well irritated him.

Behind Harry, Ginny stood on her toes to whisper something to him. She had pulled back her thick red hair into a ponytail, but a strand escaped, brushing across Harry's lips as she murmured something into his ear. It made him smile.

Draco's eyes narrowed. Without giving himself time to think about it, he lunged forward and shoved Harry. Hard. The Gryffindor stumbled backwards, and would have taken Ginny with him if Draco hadn't grabbed her by the arm to keep her steady while Harry staggered.

"What are you doing?" Ginny cried. She whirled to face him, sparks of anger dancing in her brown eyes. His grip on her arm was almost but not quite tight enough to leave bruises.

"What were you telling Potter?"

She had whispered, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "If you keep that up, my brother's going to think you're in love with me again. You better step back and pretend you're glaring at Malfoy because he's a git, not because he's scowling so threateningly at me." And Harry had smiled at her exaggeratedly mordant tone.

But she didn't think Draco would appreciate that, so she said only, "Nothing!"

He had a lot to say to that, but no time to voice them. Ron had seen them, and he bellowed, "Get your hands off my sister!" just before he tackled Draco.

In a moment, Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle had joined the fray.

Hell, no. Ginny groaned to herself. "Will you stop that!" she shrieked at them. She tried to pull Ron and Draco apart, and received an elbow in her stomach for her trouble. She gasped and doubled over in pain. A fist brushed her shoulder, and she jumped backwards, away from the fight. Well! They were so busy fighting they didn't even notice she was trying to stop them!

A few passers-by had stopped to watch with interest. Ginny turned red and wondered if she could pretend she didn't know them.

Finally, Dean and Seamus passed by. They looked startled at first, then they quickly moved forward, to pull the fighters apart. Soon some of the other passers-by made an effort to help. Harry, Ron, and Draco calmed down as soon as they were pulled backwards, but Crabbe and Goyle looked like they wanted to keep fighting.

"You can let me go," said Harry to Dean, who had twisted his arms behind his back.

Dean released him. "What were you fighting about?" he asked with interest.

"Nothing," Ginny snapped, tearing her eyes away from the rapidly purpling bruise on the corner of Draco's mouth. "Absolutely nothing."

"He started it," Ron grumbled, throwing Draco a surly look.

Draco decided that that wasn't worth a retort. His fierce frown prompted the innocent bystander holding him to let him go.

"Thanks," said Ginny to Dean and Seamus, then she marched off without looking back.

"Wait up!" Ron called, hurrying after her. Harry paused to give Draco a scathing look before he followed.

Crabbe and Goyle, their targets gone, shifted their menacing stares onto Seamus and Dean.

"Oh, no," said Seamus, holding up his hands. "We have nothing to do with this." He and Dean turned and left.

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and wondered how it had all gotten so bloody complicated.

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Ollivander studied the wand for only a few seconds before looking up.

"Hard oak, twelve inches, a dragon's scale… this belonged to Lucius Malfoy," he said simply.

Lupin and Shacklbolt stared at the wand, then at Ollivander's calm face, then at each other. Then they did it all again. It would have been comical but for the looks on Lupin and Shacklebolt's faces.

"I thought he was in Azkaban," said Ollivander.

Grimly, Lupin took the wand back. "I suppose we had better pay him a visit."

"It will be his first in a while," said Shacklebolt.

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy don't visit him?" Lupin asked.

Shacklebolt shrugged. "No. There are rumors that it was Draco who turned him in after You-Know-Who's second downfall."

"Are they true?"

"I don't know." At Lupin's dubious look, Shacklebolt spread his hands. "I really don't, I'm telling you. I'm just an Auror, not the bloody Minister of Magic."

"We can ask him about his son," said Lupin softly. "After we ask him about his wand."

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Ginny cornered Draco just after they returned to Hogwarts, when all their companions had retired to their dorms to rest. She sat on a chair in an empty classroom and gave him her dirtiest look. "A brawl. A bloody brawl. I hope you're happy," she hissed.

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "So you've decided to stop avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you," she lied.

His brow lifted, telling her silently that he knew she was lying.

She shifted the conversation back to less dangerous matters. "What was that stupid fight all about?"

"I refuse to take all the blame."

"You refuse? You can bloody well refuse until you turn blue, but you started it. You shoved Harry for no good reason!"

He had reason, all right, but Draco decided to keep that to himself. "Potter's a weenie. I barely touched him."

She turned red with fury, so he quickly added, "Look, it's over. Can we just forget about it?"

"Forget about you attacking my friends just because you felt like it? I think not."

Draco sighed. He let his eyes drift from her blazing brown eyes, down to her lips, down her slender neck… when his gaze met hers again, his own silver eyes had warmed. "I don't feel like arguing anymore."

Ginny flushed, thoroughly discomfited. "I…" She cleared her throat, aware that she had been reduced to trailing off. "I have to go."

She started to leave, but Draco had anticipated her. He moved to block the door, leaning casually against the doorknob. She stopped in front of him. "Let me pass, Malfoy."

"Not until you tell me what you were whispering to Potter, Ginny."

She stared at him, her mind working furiously. Then she said, incredulously, "Are you jealous?"

Draco went very still. With equal incredulity, he said, "Certainly not."

Ginny's lips tightened. "Then let me pass."

"All right. Just tell me why you've been avoiding me since that day you warned me about the Death Eaters."

The lie came easier this time. "I have not been avoiding you."

For a moment Draco said nothing, then he shrugged and stepped aside. "If you say so. Go on, leave."

Ginny blinked, then opened the door. She was halfway outside when she looked back.

His expression was cool and closed. "I'm not stopping you."

She hesitated again, fighting the most ridiculous urge to kiss him, then left.

A/N: Review, dear readers... you may notice that this chapter was longer than usual, to make up for the delay in updating...

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