Unofficial Portkey Archive

a/n: Gosh, it's been AGES since I've written a complete piece of fanfic. You guys wouldn't believe the dozens of Word documents floating around my harddrive - all fic ideas without any completion in sight. So when I started to really get flowing on this one, I made sure to stick with it for once. Anyway, besides my horrible writing habits, HP fandom has recently gotten almost un-fun for me, like a lot of folk.

That said, D/G fandom is still fantastical, and so are everyone of you that are in it. This fic is for Crystal and Kristina and Nitya. And Karly and even Jono. Oh, and to my sister Nay, for betaing. To anybody who thinks D/G could still feasibly work within a canonical frame, this is for you.

disclaimer: Unsurprisingly, the Harry Potter series still doesn't belong to me.

w a k e

He had always, always looked most peaceful when sleeping. She was an early riser, and would watch him while she dressed, as he dozed in 'til late. Old morning memories flooded back over her now: cold stone under her toes as she crept out of his four-poster, then pulling on thick striped socks - the red and gold looking out of place in the Slytherin dorms. She would watch him, eyes under lids fluttering round, always dreaming. Pale shoulders rolling as he burrowed further beneath the comforter, an almost-smile on his lips.

There was no smile there now. And though he had been pale in complexion before, now he was white like blue snow, harsh and strange. His eyes remained still beneath their lids, lashes low and quiet. Sleeping, but eternally this time. Like an eerie version of Snow White, almost looking like he was waiting for someone to wake him up.

The room at the funeral home was large, and so the few number of who had attended was emphasized more. She had slipped in unnoticed, sitting in the back row, a veil over her features. It was now Ginny pushed down all hopes. Draco Malfoy was dead.

She felt detached here, as she blinked back tears, watching a blurry Narcissa mouth prayers. It was such a small crowd. Narcissa, a sobbing Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle looking somber. Snape was there too, and for the first time in her life, she could see that he was actually emoting. He gave off waves of sorrow and disappointment; he thought he could have amounted to something.

But this was Draco's end. He had turned to thieving in the war, working for whichever side paid him more, back and forth throughout it. And when one day he had been caught filching secrets from Voldemort's side, a Death Eater had not taken kindly to it.

The thought of his life being so fragile that it had been taken in a mere second, when he wasn't even looking, was startling. Draco had been no Gryffindor, but Ginny had never thought of him as being vulnerable. He knew his way with a wand, and had a bit of an advantage in that he had been educated in both the Dark Arts and defense against them. She had never worried.

Now she was more worried than she had been in her entire life, for anyone. Worried because she wasn't sure what was waiting beyond the grave for Draco. Worried if there even was anything at all. And at the back of her head, a selfish worry for herself. A worry of whether or not she would be able to live happily ever after, if it didn't include him.

How she had gotten herself into this was neither here nor there now. She was in it completely now, and would never get out. She had been in love with him, and now he was gone.

She felt the pew she was seated in creak a bit, as three people slipped into the ceremony. Wondering why they had chosen to sit at the very back as she had, she glanced at them peripherally.

It was Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Ginny's head snapped back forward, and subconsciously tugged at her veil to be sure that they wouldn't recognize her. What were they doing here? They'd hated Draco, since the day they'd met him, and in her brother's case, even before.

She raised a handkerchief under her veil, dapping under her eyes, and peered at them again. Hermione was looking a mix between embarrassed and glum. Harry remained serious, and Ron looked extremely uncomfortable. Ginny wondered if the other two had forced him to come along.

"Listen, do you think it's going to even work…?" he suddenly whispered to them.

Ginny put away her handkerchief and turned away, pretending she hadn't heard them. But she inclined her head slightly, to get within better earshot.

"Would you keep it down?" Hermione hissed at him, startled. "We don't know. That's why we're here."

"I still can't even believe he wanted to test it so soon," Harry suddenly interjected. "We weren't even done - I can't believe he was so trusting in it-"

"Bollocks," said Ron harshly, "he didn't trust it at all. He just wanted it to fail. He wants us to look like fools for it."

Ginny's mind was reeling. What were they talking about? What had failed? Did they have something to do with Draco's death? Her cheeks burned in resentment of the idea. She would never forgive them, not if….

"Are you implying that he wanted to die?" Hermione said incredulously. Ginny could hear her skeptical expression.

"No-well. Yes. If he thought it'd make us look stupid." Ron said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione and Harry hissed at him in unison.

They were all silent for a moment, before Harry continued. "Look," he said, "he wouldn't want to die. Malfoy was a coward, he was afraid of death. And after living the life he's led, it's not surprising he wasn't eager to see if there was really a hell or not."

"If he was a coward, he wouldn't have been such a successful thief, he had to take chances and risks with his own life all the time. Look," said Hermione then, voice trembling. "I hated him as much as you two did-"

"No, you didn't," Ron interrupted, gravely.

"Well-well I certainly disliked him. But I don't think it's fair to say he was cowardly. And fairness aside, this is his wake. Would it… would it really hurt so much to show him some respect, at the very least in his absence?"

"Maybe it was an inappropriate thing to say," Harry said reluctantly, "but I just don't think he'd have died on purpose."

Ginny's ears were nearly ringing, as she sat beside them in utter confusion. Her mind was bursting with questions.

"Well it doesn't look like he had much to live for," said Ron, "look at how few people even showed up to his funeral."

Ginny thought she heard Hermione hit his arm.

"Sorry, but it's true, isn't it?" said Ron.

"That's what happens," said Harry slowly, "that's what happens when you act the way he did to everybody."

A moment of silence passed, and during it Ginny's hands went into fists on her lap, wanting to scream and slap them. She wanted to tell them. He'd had someone to live for. He'd had someone who'd loved him, he'd had someone he'd loved.

"Is there a chance it could work?" Hermione said, extremely quiet. Ginny glanced over surreptitiously, and saw that she had worried eyes and was clutching their hands tightly.

"Of course there is," said Harry.

"There's a chance it won't, too," said Ron.

"That's-I'd inferred that much," said Hermione bitterly.

"I want it to work, honestly," Ron said then.

"Why? So we won't look stupid?" Hermione whispered.

"You'd never look stupid," said Harry. "And I want it to work too. Not even because of the spell."

Spell? Ginny's heart was aching, and what was this they were discussing about a spell? She found it highly inappropriate. Annoyance and emotions running high, she turned toward them and said, brusquely: "You're being very rude, you know."

The trio all turned to her in surprise, Hermione looking extremely embarrassed.

"Sorry, miss," said Harry, eyeing her veil curiously. "We didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't hear what we were saying, did you?" Ron asked, seeming not to notice anything about her.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione. "We're sorry, really," she said hastily.

Ginny flipped back her veil in frustration. "Yes, I heard what you were saying, and you'd better tell me this instant what you three are up to."

Their surprised faces contorted into even more shocked expressions.

"Ginny?!" Harry and Hermione hissed.

"Have you been… crying?!" Ron whispered, looking at her red-rimmed eyes in horror.

"It is a wake," said Ginny icily. "Most of the people here are in mourning."

"And you?" he responded, a bit loud.

Snape turned around then, and seemed only slightly surprised to see them. He then sent them a death glare, slowly bring his finger to his lips, indicating for them to be quiet.

They returned to their conversation, slightly quieter.

"What are you doing here, Gin?" Ron pressed.

"It doesn't matter. What is this spell you're talking about?" She said, wiping smeared eye makeup off her cheeks and refusing to meet his gaze.

They all looked at her suspiciously for another moment, before Hermione answered her. "It's Order business," she said.

Ginny glared. "I'm a member of the Order," she pointed out.

"Honorary," Harry corrected. "Not to snub you or anything," he said hastily, "but it's honest to God a classified situation."

"What does it have to do with Draco's death?" she hissed. "I want to know what you're doing here."

"What we're doing here?" Ron said, looking as though this were the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. "What about you? Since when are you calling Malfoy 'Draco'? Since when are you one of the … the six people to attend his wake? And you're-you're crying at it. Ginny what is going on here?" He looked concerned, and she calmed down a bit at this.

"It's a long story," she said.

They all looked at her expectantly.

"A very long story." She said pointedly.

"We've got all night," said Harry, looking at his watch, "literally."

Ginny looked at the three of them watching her, their eyes suspicious and curious in equal amounts. She heaved a sigh, scooting a bit closer. "Well," she said. "see-" she paused.

She'd kept the secret this long, was there any way she could reveal it now? She took a deep breath. "I was in love in with him. Since 6th year," she blurted.

"Sixth year?" Harry gaped.

"In love with him?" Hermione and Ron gasped, interrupting Harry. "What do you mean in love?" Hermione asked, and Ron said at the same moment: "Were you sleeping with him?!"

"Sixth year," Ginny affirmed. "Your seventh. You were all out looking for horcruxes-"

"You wrote me letters," interjected Harry grimly.

"-yeah," she said wearily, "I still was with you. But I-we-it just sort of happened. I can't justify lying to you, but I did. I mean, I'm sorry . Hermione, I really mean in love. Every night he came home to me-"

"But I thought he didn't really live anywhere?" Hermione said, in shock. "He was a mercenary, a thief-"

"But he loved me. All of his stuff is at my apartment, I know you didn't notice, I made sure. I'm a witch, it's easy to hide things from visitors, including Order members."

"What about Moody? He's been over there before. His eye-" Ron suggested.

"Moody knew," affirmed Ginny, "he didn't say anything because he understood it was our personal business. Which it was. So I'm here in mourning."

"And?" Ron said.

"And what?" she responded, surprised.

"What about my question? Were you sleeping with him?"

"Ron," chided Hermione.

"It's a valid question," said Ron, "I ask out of brotherly concern and I think I have a right to know if that filch was boning my sister-"

"Of course he was," snapped Harry suddenly, "who wasn't?"

Ginny flushed in indignation. "I already said I regretted lying to you," she muttered, "you don't have to be such an ass about it."

"No? But you just had to keep saying you loved me, when you were with-with that prig?" he pointed at the casket, and Ginny looked, heart breaking at the sight.

"Have a little respect," she said, her voice coming out warbled, as she took in Draco's corpse.

Harry was looking at it too now, and his face softened. "I'm sorry. It's just… hard to suddenly hear all this. I didn't mean to snap."

"I broke it off with you as soon as you came back. It wouldn't have been fair to send you a letter while you were… saving the world." Ginny explained, looking down at her hands, blinking rapidly.

"I haven't saved it," said Harry glumly. "Not yet, anyhow."

Hermione reached out and took her hand. "Don't cry," she said, "it might… it might work out - maybe."

Ginny smeared her tears away with the back of her free hand. "What do you mean? You haven't answered any of my questions," she murmured.

The three looked at each other, sharing a silent discussion. Ginny looked on tearfully, still in wonder after so many years that the trio had the kind of relationship that it did. It was something marvelous, and at the same time depressed her incredibly. She'd never been a part of it, not really, no matter how close she'd been with any one of them. It was off-putting, and as she turned from them back to the coffin, she felt overwhelmingly lonely.

She and Draco had never had a relationship that could have rivaled the healthiness of the trio's. Perhaps it was something to do with their own individual defects. Draco was selfish and nasty, raised the son of a Death Eater and an aristocrat, proud and rude and there would always be a streak of him that was irredeemable and incendiary. Ginny had once been possessed by the memory of the young dark lord, and though with every year she moved further on from it, there would always be a portion of her that had been damaged. She was always fretting over trusting Draco - or anyone for that matter, and it made things difficult and painful and strange. She had complex feelings towards all people - feeling strangely out of place in that she was popular at school, but somehow always a bit outcast from the trio and her family. The two groups in which she most fervently yearned for acceptance were where she just didn't quite fit.

The mere idea of the two of them having a healthy relationship was ridiculous. At first it had been such a sexual, acceptant-of-being-unbalanced type of situation. They were content with the idea of it as a tryst. A sort of playtime. But hearts aren't made for relationships like that, they have latches and chains with weights on the end. And as soon as you step into another's heart, it'll snap down on you like a bear trap. And that's exactly what happened. Suddenly weighed down with feelings of devotion, possession, and love, they had moved forward, unable to give each other up.

Staring at his lifeless visage, she wasn't sure if it had ever really amounted to anything healthy. They had supported each other, lived with each other, shared moments of peace and passion. But it had all been in secret. And if you hide an entire relationship - is it every really alright?

Ginny turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were looking at her with a sort of patient concern. And though they were paying her attention, she felt excluded again, like a wounded puppy being pitied. Her throat was constricting and her eyes were running over again, and she felt almost embarrassed for it.

"Well?" she mumbled, pulling her handkerchief out again, hiding behind it.

"It's kind of complicated," prefaced Hermione.

Ginny looked at her watch pointedly, as Harry had done earlier.

"Yeah," said Ron quietly, "well. We'd… we'd been working on a spell, about, maybe eight months now."

"What sort of spell?" Ginny inquired.

"A very complicated defensive one," said Hermione. "Sort of an old, ritualistic type of idea. We based it off of some ancient magicks, the type of thing from Merlin's time."

"You were creating a spell? Aren't customized types of spells usually Dark Arts?" Ginny wondered.

"Yes," said Harry, "in today's time, usually. But if you think about it, every charm, spell, potion and hex was created somehow."

"What was it for, then?" she pressed.

The trio exchanged worrisome glances. "It was… supposed to be a counter to Avada Kedavra."

"A counter? That's impossible. Avada Kedavra is the purest, oldest magic, I thought?" Ginny said, shocked.

"It is," said Ron, "but that doesn't mean anything. Imperius can be fought, Cruciatus can be broken, so what makes Avada Kedavra any different? And anyhow, Harry'd already proved that much. We just had to figure out a way to do it again, and concentrate it into one spell."

"It took ages to even figure out where to begin," Hermione said, "what to base it off of-"

"Love," said Ginny, lip trembling.

"Yes," they agreed in unison.

"Exactly," Hermione echoed, "that's exactly what it is. But we had no idea how to sort that into a spell. We'd have to have a test subject, and we'd have to figure out who loved them the most, and something of theirs, and it took us absolutely hours and weeks."

"We decided on hair," said Ron excitedly, "a bit of hair. That was my idea."

"Yes," explained Harry, "Ron had been reading some of my old Muggle history books. Things about soldiers going into war with a lock of hair of their sweethearts, for good luck and remembrance. Well if it was good enough for Muggles-"

"Most superstitions," Hermione interrupted excitedly, "most Muggle superstitions have some magical truths to them - perhaps not to the same extreme extent, or concentrated wrongly, but some basis for truth. And-so-hair…." she trailed off.

"We needed a test subject still," explained Harry. "We had just recently hired Draco for a high risk operation, and we mentioned it to him."

"We bribed him a bit," said Ron, looking over sadly, "double his original payment for the job."

"We weren't sure if he'd work for it," said Hermione, looking decidedly less excited. "We didn't know - gods. We didn't know if anyone loved him enough…."

"We decided his mother would be the best bet," said Harry, remaining serious, as Hermione looked across the room at the back of Narcissa and her eyes began to water.

"So we proposed the idea to him, to bring us a lock of her hair. We'd burn it, and the ashes would go in - fire purifies, see, and even if it looks useless as ash, for the potion part of the spell it would strengthen it. So we told him to bring us some of hers."

"He didn't quite follow directions," said Ron testily, "he brought us back ashes. He'd burned it himself. We didn't know if he'd really brought his mum's hair or not. We didn't know if we could trust his word. We'd hired him for his lying capabilities in the first place anyways."

"Why would he lie about it?" Ginny asked, confused beyond belief, stressed and anxious.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Don't you get it?" said Hermione finally.

Ginny looked over at the casket again, breathing becoming strained. "Did he bring mine?"

"Why else would he have not wanted us to see it?" Harry rationalized. "We'd have known it wasn't Narcissa's, and your hair is unmistakably a Weasley's."

She unconsciously tugged at one of her curls, still staring at Draco's pale face. "He thought I loved him most? Enough to save his life?"

"Apparently," said Ron hoarsely.

"We're guessing," said Hermione.

"Anyways, we weren't sure if it was going to work. We said he shouldn't purposefully endanger himself for it, it wasn't 100% sure, especially with a step being done without us. We administered the potion, performed the chant," Harry said, looking stressed. "that sort of thing. Sent him off."

"It was dangerous," said Hermione, voice shaky.

"Not … not any more dangerous than what he'd done before," pointed out Ron. "And he'd never gotten even into a scrape. He was… quite good."

Ginny's nails were in her mouth, and she was biting at them nervously. "I don't understand," she said finally. "Then it didn't work? Because he's dead. He's been declared it and everything, by Mungo's."

"Technically," said Harry, "there's still a chance."

"See," said Hermione, "wakes… wakes are an ancient tradition. Originally they extended all night, in hopes that-that the deceased would wake up."

Ginny turned to her in shock.

No words were said from that moment on, and there was silence for hours on end.

Ginny stared at him, at his still body, pale and delicate inside its case, for what seemed like days. Harry, Ron and Hermione were solemn, but clearly impatient. Ron had dozed off maybe three times now, and Hermione and Harry had taken to passing notes, doing last minute calculations.

Ginny couldn't bring herself to join in with passing the time. She was focusing all of her energies and concentration on Draco, sometimes almost praying fervently. Could it be possible? Was he really dead, or in fact, just… sleeping? Would true love wake the sleeping beauty, like in all of the fairy tales she'd read when she was younger? Even when she was a child, naïve and green and readily acceptant of what she was told, she hadn't believed those stories. It was like they were made to be brushed off in laughter. A sparkling sort of thing that was pretty to look at, but impractical. Maybe that was why they were 'fairy' tales.

But she was a witch. She was supposed to believe in magic, because she was magic.

There was a sudden tolling of bells, and everyone in the room turned in surprise to see a grandfather clock that they hadn't noticed on the way in announcing that it was midnight.

"Gods, what did you dress me in?"

Ginny froze, eyeing the hands resting on twelve, gaze stuck to the face of the clock in horror. That voice….

She whirled around.

There was a shriek, as Pansy fainted out of the first pew.

Narcissa seemed to be hyperventilating.

And Draco Malfoy was sitting up in his coffin, looking down at his clothes in disgust. He looked up suddenly, noticing the trio in the back of the room, who were staring at him in a mix of shock and pride.

"If I find so much as a speck of rotten flesh on me, I swear on my grave-"

Ron suddenly chortled at this.

"-I will sue you for about a trillion years to come." Draco finished, gingerly crawling out of the casket.

Narcissa rushed to his side, and clutched his face in her hands. "What is this?" she said hoarsely, tears streaming hot down her face, searching his eyes.

"Well, mother, as you can see, I'm quite alive." explained Draco, as though speaking to a child.

She slapped him. "You put me through hell!" she shrieked.

"Actually, I was the one nearly making a foray into the afterlife," he snarked, and she slapped him again. But he let loose a small smile now, clearly glad to see his mother.

He released her, glancing down momentarily at Pansy, who Crabbe and Goyle were fanning back to consciousness with programs. He then looked back out over the rest of the attendants. Snape looked disapproving.

"What?" Draco asked of him, walking over casually. "You were the one who said we could stopper death."

"You went to them to do it?" Snape said, turning and gesturing towards the trio, who were standing awkwardly in the aisle now.

"Well they were the ones paying," explained Draco. "But it wasn't exactly entirely them."

Snape turned now and looked straight at Ginny, who was transfixed on Draco, frozen in her seat, chest heaving with every ragged breath.

"Should I be surprised?" said Snape, turning back to Draco, who shrugged.

"That is the orthodox route," he conceded, waving behind him at Narcissa and Pansy, who looked extremely suspicious and confused. Crabbe and Goyle looked on in incomprehension.

Snape heaved an almost annoyed sigh and strode past Draco toward them.

Draco now moved onward to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were looking at him in an almost awed fashion.

"Well, I'll be needing my payment," he said to them, leaning against the pew's arm. "Right now?" gaped Ron. "You just woke up - from being dead - and you think we're carrying around some kind of Order of the Pheonix checkbook?"

"Aren't you?" said Draco, unfazed.

"Well-" Ron stuttered. "Yeah, you'll get it in a minute, hang on." He dug around in his coat jacket.

"Listen, this is a huge moment in magical history," said Hermione, "you're going to be in textbooks, papers, annals of time…."

"Yes," said Draco, smiling coyly, "as the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him, and Ron handed him a check. "There," he said. "Greedy prig," he added.

Draco folded it dramatically and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

He finally turned around, looking at Ginny for the first moment since he'd awoken from death.

He had the dignity to blush a bit.

He slowly made his way down the pew to her, and finally sat beside her. He let out a sigh. "Ginevra," he said, "I think you're going to have to break the news to your parents."

"What news is that?" she managed. She shakily smeared tears off her cheeks.

"Well, your love saved my life and all, and it's not quite going to be polite if I don't marry you for it. And if you think for one second that I'm going to settle for some secret, shotgun type elopement, you are sorely mistaken. No homemade dresses, either, yick, I saw that horror you wore to the Yule Ball…." he trailed off, looking at her.

"Well?" he said, after a moment.

She looked him in the eye. "Yes," she said. "Of course."

Ginny leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

For the first time, Draco Malfoy looked at peace while awake.

e n d

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