Glimmer in the Dark

By Matthew Crumby

Rating: M

Summary: To rescue the person they- the Order- so very much rely on, from bitterness, suicidal intentions and irresponsible tranquility, Ginevra Weasley sacrificed a lot… for the greater good, and probably… something else? D/G one-shot.

Compliance: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Timeline: 2-3 years after Draco's expected graduation from Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all places, persons and other things mentioned in it, are the properties of J.K. Rowling and her publishers.

A/N: This fanfic is rated M for sexual content, language and dark themes. If you're under 17, I would strongly advise you to go away. (Of course you won't, but hey, I reminded you! XD)

Grimmaud Place is deserted at one in the morning on a certain June day. Well, almost deserted. If anyone walked in at that moment, the only thing they would notice, save for two girls lying half across the living-room sofa, is the glimmer of light in the fading fireplace. The room is dark, unusually dark- at the time of the day, the Order would perhaps be gathering in the kitchen or around the meeting table, talking, discussing, and sometimes shouting (with old Mrs. Black's high-pitched voice calling "blood traitors" and "mudbloods" in the background).

Today, however, is not just any other day. After Gringotts was viciously attacked by the Death Eaters and hundreds of goblins dead, a fight between the Order and the Death Eaters ensued, resulting in two Order members, James Ringley and Mitch Moon, captured, some dead and many injured. The fight is over now, yet the Order dare not retreat quickly into Grimmaud Place for fear of tracking spells: they're still at places the Death Eaters does know, such as the Burrow or Ted Tonk's place. Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger remained behind, though; Hermione hadn't recovered fully from her deadly one-on-one battle with Greyback; and Ginny was acting as a Healer at home. They had waited for the Order's return since their leaving at 2 p.m.; and after almost half a day worrying and talking, they gradually fell asleep.

It was at that exact moment, when a man walked out of the fireplace.

Hermione mumbled in her sleep, "Ginny… I think they're here.", and sleepily stood up. Ginny made no response whatsoever, absorbed in her much needed sleep.

"Good day, Granger." Came Malfoy's cool voice from in front of the fireplace.

"Malfoy! What brought you here at this hour?" exclaimed one very startled Hermione Granger, as the hooded figure step towards the sentries.

Malfoy said nothing. He didn't even bother to dust himself, as he so very often done in the past when coming out by Floo travel. His face showed absolutely no emotion, as always, yet from his crumpled garments and faint blood traces on his cloak, Hermione could easily deduct that he hadn't had an easy night. In fact, he looked like he came from hell, if he hadn't really come from the real hell itself.

Ginny stirred, and slowly woke up from her nap and found Malfoy silently standing beside her. Instantly, she rubbed her eyes, puffy from sleep or lack thereof, and found Malfoy standing right across the room. She tried her best to be sober and asked tentatively, "Malfoy? What happened?"

Malfoy didn't even send a look at her. In fact, he didn't send a look to anything since he arrived except the marble floor of the Black residence. He never raised his head, on which his usually gelled and pretty blond hair spread unruly and blood-stained.

He finally opened his mouth after a moment of silence. "What happened is that once again, your Order's ability to interfere in things that don't concern you, has caused someone their life." He paused, his voice fill of bitterness and uneasiness. "Severus Snape, along with some others, is murdered due to treason to the Dark Lord."

Ginny found herself unable to speak for a second. Snape? The one who has been a spy for them since Potter's one? The greatest Occlumency practitioner probably except Dumbledore and Voldemort himself? He's DEAD?

"But… how? Voldemort… how could he has found out?" Ginny asked.

Draco replied coldly, "Obviously that stupid prick and poor excuse of a traitor saw fir in confiding his real intentions and ideals to Lucius." Hermione shuddered. She quickly walked away from them, muttering something like "I must tell the others".

They stayed like that for a while. Snape, the source many important information, some not even revealed to Draco, came from for four long year, is dead.

Ginny felt dizzy. She finally asked quietly, "But Lucius, how could he? Didn't you say that while your father didn't want to act himself he's secretly against You-Know-Who? Hadn't he regarded Snape as a friend?"

Draco didn't answer at first. He seemed sunk in his thought, sunk in the impeccable mixture of obsidian and marble of the floorboards, and sunk in the darkness that surrounded them so cruelly. In the end, he snapped. "Weasley, you have absolutely no right to comment on my family." His voice was hard and silently seething through the façade of absolute expressionlessness. He walked past her in the dark room, brushing her harshly, and took a seat on the couch as if she wasn't there. Ginny felt regret at mentioning his father. Lucius Malfoy was never one topic that interested Draco… that topic usually ended in someone getting on the verge of being cursed or being struck in the face. She slightly turned her head, only to see Malfoy had put his head in his hand, crying a tearless and soundless cry that only people who had been through a lot in their lives could ever possibly understand. Throughout the two long years Malfoy has been working with the Order, Ginny's opinion of him hadn't really changed. Though it is clear that his stand in this seemingly never-ending Wizarding War wasn't what she expected, he's still as arrogant, annoying, cold, rude, and troublesome as he always has. However, right now, Ginny truly felt sorry for him, for the Order. Snape, just like Malfoy, had been cold to everyone in the Order, yet nonetheless they're what really kept the Order from failing after Dumbledore's death. They're so easy to hate when they're around, thought Ginny, but their deaths… are as traumatizing as anyone else's could possibly be. She sighed softly.

Suddenly Malfoy said, "Not like it's any of your business, damn Weaselette; but just for your information, my whole family's dead along with Snape- precisely because they didn't reveal his secret. In fact, a baldy man from your Order- John or something- didn't learn his Occlumency lessons very well." He stopped, taking a breath, and gritted his teeth, "So stop fucking judging what my family did or not!"

Ginny hadn't even heard that last comment. She knew Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were just Death Eaters to her, but… She truly felt sorry for Draco. Losing parents and mentors, not to mentioned watching them being tortured to death, all in one night is misery beyond all reason for anyone, even Draco, who can muster up a mask at almost any time. She didn't know what to say about this revelation, so she just sat there, gazing up at the ceiling while he continued looking down, staring into oblivion. The silence lasted for a long time, as none of them had initiated on any sort of further discussion of the matter. Ginny kept her glance traced on Draco's handsome features; no tears could be found there. She shut her eyes sadly, suddenly understanding his lack of emotion, which many had previously deciphered as unable to love- it was the deep sorrow and pain, the frequent torture, the toughness of the situation that brought it out of him and Snape. He wasn't cold or heartless; his heart is just too calloused to have any further sensation at all.

Malfoy stood up abruptly, "I'm leaving." He stated, as he had so often stated on nights like this, but this time, mingled in his voice, something different… tough, overly mature and hoarse… It's the voice of someone who couldn't have a care in the world, only because everything he cared for, is already long gone.

"Wait, Malfoy." Ginny asked hurriedly, walking over to him and looking directly in his eye. Malfoy halted but didn't move back, flinching a bit as Ginny laid a hand of restraint on his left shoulder. "Um… I just want to say…" She stuttered a bit, "Everyone here is really grateful for what you've done an-and I just want to say that I-I am really sorry for your loss… or losses. I'm really sorry."

Malfoy suddenly turned around and faced her, undeniable hatred flaming in his features with every word he said. "I don't need your thanks, nor do I want you to feel sorry for me," He growled, and continued sarcastically, "Since you seemed like a caring and compatriot person, and since you feel your so-called gratitude for me, why wouldn't you just do me a favor, Weaselette? Leave. Me. Alone. Please."

Ginny, neither surprised nor discouraged by his actions, continued with emotion, "Listen, I'm really, really sorry for what the Order did today, and what you have done in the past years for our mutual cause… is really impressive…" Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes, because she suddenly found that, after so many long, sleepless nights, she understood the final words of Hestia Jones before she died horribly, "Every loss is worth crying upon, Miss Weasley. No matter who died, no matter how the person treated you, no matter what did the person do- they deserve true remorse and sadness." Truer words can never be said, thought Ginny sadly.

But Draco, as engaged in his own thoughts as Ginny had been, didn't seem to notice, or deliberately ignored her display of emotion, and turned away once more. Ginny thought unhappily, how much she would give for his turning back that moment. And he did turn back, but only to spit out harshly through tight lips, "Sorry? What good would that do, Weaselette? Can it bring anyone back? Are your tears resurrecting?" He sighed and continued, "Look, Weasley, I'm tired. I'm tired of all the things that I've done, no matter you liked it or not. Nobody gives a goddamn thing about my life, and I most certainly don't give a damn about anyone alive on this Earth right now (a trace of bitterness, just a trace, was detected by Ginny through his flawless mask of a face), so will you please let me do what I wanted?"

He paced back and forth for a few moments, then grabbed a handful of Floo Powder in his fists, saying, "I guess this is a farewell and I mean it, Weasley. I'm tired of this war. Hell, I'd perhaps try my luck in Transylvania or New Zealand for all I care! They do have Gringotts there…"

Ginny suddenly realized that Draco's leaving us will be most utterly devastating to the order- No insider information, no more attack precautions… The truth struck her, and she knew very clearly that if she let Draco walk out on them at this moment, she'll never be free of the shame. She will be feeling guilty for ages. She responded faintly just before he stepped one foot in the fire, "But… but Malfoy! You had always seemed so blindly devoted in bringing the Dark Lord down… Anyway, I just thought that…"

"Do you think I'm doing it for THE ORDER? Do you think I do it for whatever fucking reason you had? Do you think I hold Granger's little precious ideals? Do you think I give a flying fuck about who wins in this godforsaken war?" Draco couldn't hold back his anger any longer. He burst out, suffering for totally uncontrollable rage. Ginny said nothing, just looked at him sadly.

Draco laughed then, in a high-pitch voice that would perhaps scare the living daylights out of anybody, a voice that no one, even himself, would ever think be heard coming from him. It's so full of emotion, a mixture of hatred, disdain, incredulity and anger. "Well any misconceptions about myself can cease right now. I'll respond to you clearly, Weasley- the answers to all those questions, are all, NO!" he turned to leave. In a desperate measure- Ginny certainly weren't thinking clearly, and she was desperate indeed- she lunged forward, dragging him back towards the sofa away from his departure.

"What the-"Draco started angrily, but was muffled by Ginny's lips pressed strongly against his. In all their passion, Ginny managed to hope that this would change his mind. And it very much seemed, she thought to herself, grinning inside, Draco cannot think with a logical head either, or he would have pulled back this instant.

Indeed Draco wasn't thinking. He hadn't slept for over 30 hours, fighting, groveling, killing, watching people being tortured… Not that he would have cared. He knew deep down that his Malfoy pride won't allow him to kiss and enjoy the kiss of a Weasley but this moment was too good to pass out. After all, he mused, it's not like girls crash on him every day now that he's always surrounded by Dark practitioners… And Ginny Weasley sure is quite a charming little witch if not for her name.

A few hotter and more passionate kisses ensued. None of their minds functioning clearly, the electric shocks of desire coming rapidly, they kept on touching, snogging and exploring each other in the darkness.

Draco carried Ginny up from their half-sitting position on the couch and to his private room- a chamber that the Order had granted to him but that he never used. Throwing Ginny and himself on the dusty white sheets, he never failed to cover her mouth with his, save for muttering Evanesco on their bodies, and catching some breath between short pauses. Already rid themselves of their bothersome clothing, he looked down at her, with utter awe and admiration, and saw one of the sexiest bodies he had ever seen.

Ginny seemed a bit aghast at being "overexposed", and in a manner so blunt. She moaned into Draco's throat, completely unable to restrain her reactions. Draco's mind cleared a bit as he slowly observed the naked body of Ginny Weasley beside him; and he can't help but thought this is one of the sexiest bodies he had ever seen- her shape wasn't perfect, and her breast not the roundest or biggest, however they are sufficiently adorable, and the extra little bit of flesh and weight actually adds up her skin's smoothness and bounciness. He groaned, thinking about how he should dispose of her. Oh, who could have thought that I would someday want to fuck Ginny Weasley, of all people, so strongly and-

Must. Stop. Thinking. This. Way.

Why though- he said to himself, she offered me and I can take whatever I want! Hooray!

No. You cannot damage her, you can never assume any responsibility over her, he reasoned with himself. So he sighed and said, "We can't do this, Weasley… It's not meant to be like this. I don't want to damage you.

Ginny saw him mutter something and slowly moved away from her. How could he be leaving now? Frowning, she stubbornly grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her, refusing to let go. She resisted his force of retreat, placing her lips on his. Draco shuddered, "No, Weasley! I don't want to hurt you, and you're making it very hard not to!"

His arousal is already hard to bear, and he's beginning to lose control is she didn't stop anytime soon. God, her hands pulling him back made him feel a new wave of delight and arousal coming to him, and…

The he heard something he would never dare to think about in his whole life:

"Please?"

Ginny murmured thickly, her voice soft from sleepiness. Her brows furrowed as Draco stare wide-eyed at the redhead, unable to speak. Then she saw him slowly moving back, close to her, and said with a sigh, "If you insist."

(For virtue's sake, I won't write any further than that- but you should know that it had been Ginny's first night and- there you got it.)

They laid there for hours, engaged in their joyful (maybe erotic) dreams of their own and in the feeling of afterglow. As the first ray of sunlight shone through the window at early dawn, Ginny woke up, following her force of habit of waking up at six o'clock in the morning precise.

They were both sticky and shiny with perspiration, both breathing harshly from exertion, both trembling just the slightest bit. She was afraid of what she would see in those eyes because they would tell her at a glance whether her experiment had been a success. She wouldn't give her lost virginity another thought if it had been… but it would be a high price to have paid for failure.

When she was finally able to bring herself to look, his eyes were closed, the furrow between them gone for what she thought had to be the first time since their school days.

"Malfoy?" she said, her voice a cracked murmur.

"Mmh." His eyes cracked open and she was searching instantly for that spitting fury and red-hot boiling hate… but she didn't see it. They were like liquid silver in the near-dark, and all she saw in them in that instant was an almost boyish, languid sleepiness.

For right now, for this one moment in time, his features weren't damaged and tainted by anger and fear. It meant that- she had succeeded in her mission, and now, perhaps, he would consider staying and continue on fighting as an option. Perhaps he would be rid of his deep sorrow and consider her as a friend to confide in.

Now she just needed to figure out how to get him to realize that he could come back to her any time; that she would always be there for him, to bind his wounds, listen to his words, give him physical release. It was an obligation she had entered into willingly… and an obligation she would diligently fulfill.

But it didn't look as if convincing him would be easy. His eyes had just gone distant again, distant and closed-off and as hard and grey as slate, and he was pushing her aside so as to get to his feet; not roughly, but not particularly tenderly either. Gone were the light, shiver-inducing caresses of just a moment ago; not even a trace of them- of the boy-man who had lavished them upon her- remained in his now-brusque manner. He was pulling his clothes back into place with short, jerky movements, raking a hand through his hair, refusing to look directly at her.

She was watching him quietly, sadly, trying to think of exactly the right thing to say- but in the end it was he that broke the silence first.

"You shouldn't have done that, Weasley," he said flatly, as he bent to yank the laces tight on his boots, his hair falling across his eyes in a ripple of silver-white, effectively hiding them from view. She was positive he'd done that on purpose, so he wouldn't have to deal with looking at her as he spoke.

His voice was bitter, but she couldn't decide who the bitterness was directed toward- Voldemort, the Order, or Snape, or her, or… Draco himself.

He turned for the door.

She had to say something, she realized, and fast, or he would be lost to her; lost to himself; and it all would have been for nothing after all, completely without meaning.

And if all would be in vain, she would have given up her maidenhood for nothing.

"Malfoy-" she said, "I didn't hope that you would even consider any responsibility or things like that; I just hoped that you would understand from last night that," She paused a bit, "that we would always be willing to give anything for you, our lives, our pride, our fighters, and uh- anyway, for you."

He stood there, perfectly still, for a long time. Then his hand rose toward the knob again; grasped it; twisted. He was going to leave without saying anything, she realized; without even a backward glance. It really had all been in vain; she'd given away her virginity, for nothing. Tears were gathering and pricking in her eyes, but still she held them back.

The door is opened right now. And she understood perfectly that her actions had been to no avail whatsoever. She had to say something- something that would change his mind, something- something that would make him go back, and make him come back.

She was so desperate, her words came out as almost a shout. It came out as a loud sob. "Promise me that you'll come back! Draco!" She cried harder, not for dramatic effect, but for true feelings and affection.

And he did turn. The door was already open- but he did turn. His eyes were unreadable, though. He looked at her for a moment that seemed to spiral out for a lifetime… then let go the doorknob, crossed back over to her, and held out a hand, offering her a conjured handkerchief.

"I understand, Ginevra," was all he said.

"Promise me…" Ginny pleaded.

Draco has already turned and, giving the tiniest, faintest trace of a nod, strode away.

But there was something- something in his eyes there at the very end- just the smallest, briefest flicker- that suggested to her that maybe, just maybe, he would come back.

A chance is better than nothing.

End.