Title: Deliverance
Disclaimer: I own nothing of this fabulous franchise worth gazillions of dollars… J.K. Rowling, you are my hero. I want to be you when I grow up…
Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance/Adventure-ish… it's pretty much all in here…
Pairing: Draco/Ginny, small bits of Ron/Hermione
Spoilers: Up to and including The Goblet of Fire and the Order of the Phoenix.
Summary: Set in the Trio's 7th year… One death or one deliverance we will share. --Dryden
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Deliverance
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"Offer up your last defense
This is the end of the innocence"
- Don Henley
It was all because of that damned crush. Ginny Weasley's life was one big laughing-stock because of her hero worship for one Harry James Potter. It was hard to get past that fascination at times, those first-ever feelings of absolute infatuation. There were times she still had to catch herself from staring at the boy. At sixteen, she knew that she had to shake herself past it. But it was hard, having fallen in love with the young wizard at the tender age of ten. Harry Potter, defeater of the dark wizard Voldemort at the age of 1 and would have to most likely do it again before his 18th birthday, was still a piece of her heart no matter how much she ignored it. But she'd accepted that.
It had taken until her 4th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but she'd been able to move past him to find Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. Not that they were anything spectacular… Michael had run off to Cho Chang and Dean had found bigger and better things in Padma Patil. But it had felt good to finally become someone other than 'that red-haired girl with a crush on Harry Potter' or 'the silly little girl that opened the Chamber of Secrets'. She was still known as 'Ron Weasley's little sister', but she could deal with that. It was now her 6th year at Hogwarts and come next year, she'd be the only Weasley left at the school.
Ginny hefted her bag over her shoulder roughly at that thought. It both saddened her and made her happy. It seemed like just yesterday she was rummaging around Flourish & Blotts in Diagon Alley, excitedly looking for her first among many textbooks. And with the thought of textbooks, the youngest Weasley increased her stride with hopes of being a few minutes early to Potions. Professor Severus Snape would make life a living hell for her if she showed up late – so it was her habit to be in her seat at least five minutes before the start of class.
A small smile came over her face as she turned the final corner in time to see the 7th years being released from the dungeon classroom. Someone must have blown something up for Professor Snape to have held them in the classroom after class was officially over. Ginny's galleons were on her brother's friend, Neville Longbottom. The poor boy was helpless in that class. And his not-completely-unfounded fear of the dark, greasy-haired Professor had probably had a large hand in whatever the incident. Professor Snape was as intimidating as a pack of starved Norwegian Ridgebacks to all who were not in Slytherin House.
"Ginny!" Ron's voice called out. She smiled as she made her way over to where he, Hermione and Harry were.
"You'd best be careful today, Gin. Snape's in a right fine mood," her brother grumbled.
"What did Neville blow up today?" she asked with a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes with a huff.
"What did he not blow up is more the question," she said. Ginny's smile widened.
"Poor Neville… was his punishment the usual? Detention?" she asked. Ron let out a snort.
"I didn't say Snape was his usual, dodgy old self. I said he was in a 'right fine mood'. It was worse for dear Neville… much, much worse. He gave him three weeks required tutoring with a pack of Slytherins. You know how much hell they're going to give him," her brother said. It was no secret that Slytherins hated all things Gryffindor… and vice versa. The Slytherin snake and the Gryffindor lion were as opposite as the values held dear by the students in each house. To set a pair or more of students from one house on a single student from the opposite house was a fate worse than detention with Snape itself. This time, the 'poor Neville' that went around the small circle of people was more heartfelt.
"Ron… Harry… say good-bye to Ginny, otherwise we'll be late to Charms," Hermione said. Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes.
"Only Hermione would call being on time 'late'…" Harry said. Hermione huffed and leveled the two boys with a look.
"Fine, Mum, we're going…" Ron said, leaning over to give Ginny a quick peck on the cheek. "We'll see you later, Gin."
"Bye, Ginny," Hermione said as she tugged the boys down the hallway. Harry gave a quick, almost shy wave as the bushy haired girl continued to pull at him.
"See you at lunch!" Ginny called to them with a smile as they made their way away from the dungeons. Re-gripping her books, she walked towards the Potions room door. She was about to smile at the trio of people walking out of the room, but held back when her eyes caught on the tell-tale green and black robes of Slytherin. Two dark heads were accompanied by a platinum one and her reaction was instantaneous. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to brace herself for the onslaught of expected insults. But there were none as they approached.
Wary as anyone in her position would be, Ginny tightened her hold on the books and made to walk by them. A sigh almost escaped her lips as she passed without them taking notice, but it was choked on when a small, purposeful shoulder suddenly rammed itself into Ginny's. The redhead watched in horror as the books scattered along the floor and let out a tiny shriek as she stepped on one of her own papers and fell directly onto her bum. There were two snickers behind her as she sat for a moment, cursing inwardly to the very devil himself. What a charming way to begin the day.
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Draco heard Pansy purposely run into someone, effectively causing books to crash to the ground in a sharp, unsyncopated staccato… and if Pansy were lucky, the person went as well. It was his usual routine to continue walking and throw insults at the sorry student's ability to walk, but something made him stop, turn and look. Lying on the cold stone floor, amid a messy pile of Potions textbooks and papers, was one of the red-headed Gryffindors he'd rather forget ever existed. This one especially.
The two of them had crossed paths in which they'd had to acknowledge the other's presence only three times in the five or so years they'd been at the school together… this one being the fourth. And one of those times, she'd leveled him with a particularly nasty Bat Bogey Hex… something he'd like to forget well into his next life.
He stared down at her for a moment or two with Parkinson and Zabini watching him closely in wait of his usual tirade of insults he aimed at all Weasleys, gender not-withstanding. But he shocked them all by reaching a hand out to her.
It was a tense moment in the hallway, Ginny sprawled undignified on the floor and staring at the long, tapered fingers on Draco Malfoy's hand with something close to horror and trepidation. When she looked up into his set face – the one he usually wore when he cursed her family as poor muggle-lovers – she saw that his eyes were a muted gray rather than the hard, stormy blue-gray that usually held stinging insults of their own.
Without looking away, she held out her own hand to the young man who had been the bane of her family's existence for the past five years. His touch was surprisingly warm for someone who tried so hard to come off as cold-blooded. That, and the short-lived unguarded look on his face told her so much more about him than a simple pure-blood surname could.
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Ginny sat at her Potions station listening with half an ear to the chattering going on about her. Today's potion was simple… well, simple in the sense of its beginnings. The brewing of it thereafter would be complex. It was a Manifest Potion, a distant cousin to the Polyjuice Potion. Where the Polyjuice Potion was brewed for over a month and was meant to turn a person into another person, the Manifest Potion took only two weeks to prepare and turned a person into an object. The difficulty in brewing this particular potion was the vigilance needed in adding the ingredients the next fourteen days – weekends included. If one wasn't careful, they could turn themselves into half an object and be subjected to that shape for a week.
Professor Snape had been in a right fine mood when the 6th years had all arrived. It had been such a mood that he'd actually assigned this potion – to which everyone had groaned. It meant two weeks dedicated to a boiling cauldron. Certain ingredients had to be added in a timely fashion, at an exact time in the fermenting process. It meant disrupted sleeping habits, long nights, early mornings and, quite possibly, missed extracurricular activities if students wanted to pass.
Right fine mood, indeed… Ginny grumbled to herself as she stirred her cauldron counter-clockwise the exact amount needed. With a sigh, she set the stirring rod down and prepared to write her foot of parchment on each of the ingredients. One day of cauldron-watching down… thirteen to go.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the dungeon's doors before Madame Pomfrey stormed into the Potions classroom.
"Madame… to what do I owe this disruption?" Snape asked with his customary frown and stance.
"Severus! Quickly! I need your supply of antiseptic potion, your Regrow-A-Bone, and a heavy sleeping draught," she said. The Potions professor gave a put-upon look towards the ceiling, but quickly went to retrieve the requested items. When he returned, he'd come to the conclusion as to who would cause such a fuss.
"Has Mr. Potter come to a nasty end?" he asked. The bemused smirk told the entire class how he would feel about such an incident. Madame Pomfrey let out a snort.
"Not quite. Had an incident with one of our Hagrid's creatures, he did. Nothing a day's rest can't cure," she said, taking the proffered items from the professor.
"Pity," Snape muttered dryly. The nurse gave him a disproving look before turning and leaving the dungeon room in a flurry of robes. Despite the concern she felt for her friend, Ginny couldn't help but smile at the professor's grim face. The man had it in for Harry. Just like everyone in Slytherin…
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"Oh look, Potter. You've got yourself a girlfriend…"
It all had started so artlessly. Just one twelve-year-old making life hell for another twelve-year-old. Nemesis jeering the nemesis. He probably would have said more insulting things had Lucius Malfoy's silver-headed cane not interrupted with a harsh 'love-tap' on his shoulder.
His eyes had been maliciously set upon that dark head among a sea of red as the gaggle of Weasleys circled in to protect one they saw as their own. It made Draco envious… it made him hate them more than he could ever imagine.
But then, his eyes kept straying back to the smallest of the bunch. There really was nothing spectacular about her, all red hair, freckles, and ratty robes… and a scowl reserved just for him. She stood amongst her family protectively, no doubt having heard all about the big, bad Malfoys, clutching her second-hand cauldron to her like a shield. Whenever her tawny-brown eyes met his, he would put the customary glare on his face until she looked away.
And so, his newly discovered fascination with the small girl went unnoticed… even by his usually very observant father. But that could have been because of the brawl the elder Malfoy had gotten into with Arthur Weasley. Draco sniffed at the memory… it had been very un-Malfoy-like. And it was pretty much the only day of his life that he would ever have more than an inkling of respect for the Weasley patriarch. It either took a lot of pluck or a fearless temper for anyone to take a swing at Lucius Malfoy.
Draco smirked as he thought of his father that day and the undignified blackened eye he carried, but it slipped off his face as his thoughts steadily progressed to other things. Standing outside in the cool fall air, he couldn't help but reflect over the day. Or, rather, his actions of the day.
"Bloody hell," he exclaimed to himself as he leaned back against his usual tree along side the lake on the Hogwarts grounds. He should have known that his mind would immediately go back to the events of the hallway earlier.
He'd taken the girl's hand in his own for reasons he couldn't explain. The looks Parkinson and Zabini had shot him as they continued down to the dungeons had been slyly questioning. No doubt they thought him up to tricks they didn't know about. Strangely enough, there had been no ulterior motive. Ginny Weasley was safely tucked into the 'Do Not Touch' part of his mind. He didn't like her, he didn't hate her… she was simply a person he didn't think of. Or… that was the way it was supposed to go.
He'd admit to himself only that he thought of her more often than he should, but he could never really derive which side of the love-hate gamut she warranted. Draco didn't know her, so he couldn't like her… but the same logic argued that he couldn't hate her either. And if he followed that same linear pattern, he really couldn't hate all the damned Weasleys. Of course, this completely contradicted what he'd been taught all his life by his bastard of a father.
So, rather than give himself a headache – a Malfoy didn't get headaches – trying to sort it all out, he would rather not think of Ginevra Weasley at all. It would lead to questions Draco was pretty sure he didn't want to answer. So, it was safer to be indifferent to all things with red hair with the exception of the Weasel King. That particular redhead happened to be the physical manifestation of a temper tantrum. Annoying, really. Draco certainly had reason to hate that little slug-flinging, Potter-worshipping, mudblood-loving… He let out a sigh. It wasn't good to dwell on such thoughts. Draco made a wry face.
"Bloody Potter," he muttered as he lit a cigarette. Taking a deep drag, he let the smoke fill his lungs dangerously before slowly letting it filter out.
Draco had seen the way Potter had looked at the tall redhead earlier that day as she'd joined the protective circle of the Trio outside the Potions classroom. It was a look that Draco knew that he, himself, had often worn over the years when she was unaware of his scrutiny. It was only fitting that she was the subject of Potter's musings as well. He and the Boy-Who-Lived were rivals for everything else… why not this thing that bordered on obsession? Yet, it was just looks from both boys. And they were most likely doing no more than look for similar reasons.
It was sad, really, how Draco could compare his own reasoning to Harry Potter's noble logic. But there it was. There had been distractions that claimed Potter's attentions… Voldemort, the Tri-wizard travesty, Cho Chang, Cedric Diggory's death, that bloody Black character most would call Draco's own relation… But once he'd really looked at Ginny Weasley all-grown-up there'd been no excuse.
Potter had seen her over the course of their Hogwarts experience, no matter how much others would deny it. But he'd shielded those baser emotions to keep himself from dragging Ginny into something she could not get out of. It was the same reason Draco kept his distance from her. It wouldn't be fair to the girl, any girl really, no matter how unconsciously fixated each boy was, to drag her into either the destructive light or the destructive dark. For all of Potter's 'good', it was still going to destroy him and those he loved in the end.
Draco took a long drag on the cigarette he'd been ignoring before flicking it to the ground with a look of distaste. It was a disgusting, muggle-like habit that Blaise Zabini had introduced him to in their second year. Letting the smoke spill out through his pursed lips, he watched as the glow from the filter faded to black.
Shrugging his cloak closer to him, he thought about that damned Golden Trio again. Weasely and Granger were lucky. As much as they thought themselves heroes, it was Potter who could claim the title. And he wasn't a 'tragic hero' as much as he was a 'fated hero.' The distinction was monumental, and it was something Draco didn't envy at all. Potter would survive, that much the young Slytherin knew. He held no illusions as to how much power his rival had; and with Albus Dumbledore by his side, Potter's victory was assured. But surviving the battle did not necessarily mean surviving the aftermath. That would be a whole new world for Scarhead to endure. Draco, with his trademark half smirk on his face, only hoped that he would be alive to see Perfect Potter struggle…
A sudden, unexpected chorus of yells came from the direction of Hagrid's hut, startling Draco. The entire class of seventh years clamored up the hill, following the overgrown oaf of a Care of Magical Creatures instructor who looked to be carrying the inert form of the present subject of Draco's thoughts. It would seem as if Perfect Potter wasn't in so perfect form today. A slight pang of disappointment coursed through Draco's body at the thought of having skived off class and missed Potter's comeuppance at the hand of one of the giant's pets.
Even as disappointed as he was, Draco couldn't help the slight chuckle that slipped out of his lips. Potter had gone off and gotten himself injured two days before the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch match. With a shake of his head, the blond boy started towards the castle. For the supposed last hope of the wizarding world, Potter could be such a bleeding idiot…
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