Sometimes, I Even Amaze Myself (the remix)
By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor
Summary: Ginny Weasley becomes the target of a Death Eater attack. Where could she possibly be safer than in the heart of Malfoy Manor, under the protection of Draco Malfoy and his mischievous older brother? A final foray into the best ship, D/G!
Timeline: This is an AU, in the sense that Draco Malfoy doesn't really have a brother in the books, nor is there a Professor Jacqueline Pierce at Hogwarts. In all other ways, it follows canon through "Goblet of Fire."
A/N: This story was my second ever novel-length fic, first posted some time in 2002. Consequently, it was written during my formative teenage years. Since finishing it, I've finished a creative writing degree and am now in grad school. My writing has improved to the point where I can't bear the thought of this story being on my author page in the state it's been in for years.
So here's the revamp. I can promise it's a very different story from the original and feels much, much more like a piece I'm proud to call mine. Hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: Characters, canon plots, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling. I am making no money from this work and intend it only for publication on , with no other intended distribution and absolutely no sales. Thanks, J.K., for giving amateur writers like myself a chance to frolic in a fabulous fictional world!
~Chapter 1~
Can I ask you a question, please?
Promise you won't laugh at me?
Honestly, I'm standing here
Afraid I'll be betrayed
As twisted as it seems
I only fear love when it's in my dreams
-Alana Grace
)SOMETIMES(
"Gods, boy, what is it now?"
Draco Malfoy scowled at his breakfast but didn't touch it. His father's question hovered in the air between them and the other occupants of the dining room. Draco often felt that Lucius Malfoy considered dealing with him to be like dealing with a dim and spoiled five-year-old. Draco had, admittedly, once been a dim and spoiled five-year-old, but that had been twelve years ago. He doubted his father appreciated the difference.
"Nothing's the matter, Father. I'm perfectly well," Draco lied, picking up his fork and knife and carving his sausages into precise pieces.
"Then, for Merlin's sake, stop moping about," Lucius snapped. "You've been in a state ever since you returned home for the holidays and we've got to put up with you for two more weeks."
No you don't, Draco thought, carefully chewing each bit of sausage ten times before swallowing. You can sod off with your associates and leave mother here to deal with me. I'm just your son. He didn't dare say this aloud. He chose life.
"Give him a break, Dad." The voice came from further up the table. "He's probably just wishing he'd done better on midterms - right, Draco?"
Draco glanced up at his twenty-four year old brother, Aden, and his expression darkened. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the effort Aden made to wedge himself between Draco and their father's verbal bashing.
It's that the sun shines out his bum, as far as the elderly lot are concerned, Draco thought crossly and not for the first time, hating his stupid parents.
"Aden, darling, don't contradict your father." Narcissa Malfoy smiled at Aden and tucked into her poached egg. "Draco has been behaving dreadfully since he returned from school."
Draco bit back a snort. His parents' idea of dreadful behavior was anything Draco did, as far as he could tell. Aden, next in line to the Malfoy fortune, could more or less say or do whatever he wanted and it was 'well done, old boy!' as far as both their parents were concerned.
"Well, I'm off," Draco's perfect brother said, pushing his chair back and tossing his napkin onto the table. "Tea this afternoon, Mother?"
"Of course, my darling," she said affectionately, as he stooped to kiss her cheek. "Come find me in the south parlor when you're ready."
"Cheer up, little brother. Not everyone can be practically perfect in every way," Aden said to Draco, ruffling his hair in passing. Draco hissed under his breath. He hid the hiss behind his teacup and tried to decide where Aden wanted to meet him. Hair ruffling was usually code for 'meet me in my room' but occasionally Aden fancied a kip in the east wing library. In the meantime, Draco had to wait to be excused until his parents were done bothering him about whatever popped into their heads.
Sure enough, as soon as the door closed behind Aden, Narcissa started in properly on Draco.
"Really, darling, what's the matter with you?" she asked, looking down the table at him. It wasn't a question of active concern, but rather, of annoyance. Draco's duty when at home was to be polite to his parents and politer to their frequent evening guests. Whatever problems he might be having, unless they were school-related, were hardly of concern to either of his parents. So long as he upheld the mighty Malfoy honor, blah, blah, blah …
"I assure you, I'm quite well," he told his mother, finishing his sausage. "Aden's right," he added, shamelessly capitalizing on his brother's popularity. "I'm unhappy because I don't think I'll come top at midterms."
"I certainly hope the Mudblood doesn't beat you again." Lucius' cold voice jumped right to what would have been bothering Draco if it had occurred to him Granger might beat him gain. Great – something else to worry about.
"I have some guests coming tonight," Lucius went on, watching Draco through narrowed eyes, "and I do not wish to trouble them with your bad attitude. I find it callus enough myself. I expect you to spend your day indoors, studying. This evening, you're to appear in the entrance hall in formal wear to greet my guests. You're excused from the table."
Draco stood, trying to keep his impatience to be gone off his face. "Good morning, Mother. Father."
"Try to be more cheerful this evening, Draco," his mother called after him, her tone that of a weary woman who tried her best. "Your father and I are engaged for the rest of the day, so see to it that you prepare for our guests tonight at a proper hour."
In other words, Draco was expected to show these guests what being associated with a Malfoy meant. Oh, goody. "Of course," he acknowledged over his shoulder, biting his tongue against sarcastic backlash. "I want to make a good impression."
"Oh, and see that your brother is told," Narcissa added as though he hadn't said anything. "This will be a most important evening for him."
Draco nodded and shoved through the dining room doors. He breathed a sigh of relief when the doors were safely shut behind him and he stood in the entrance hall, alone at last.
"Bollocks," he said as loudly as he dared. Pushing away from the doors, he crossed the hall and climbed the winding staircase to the second floor. Aden wasn't in his room, so Draco headed for the east wing library. Filled almost entirely with fiction for Narcissa's amusement, Lucius rarely – if ever – turned up there.
Draco pushed open the oak doors and wound his way through the towering bookshelves to the back wall of the library. Two rope hammocks hung from the ceiling, hidden from immediate view by several cleverly rearranged bookcases. Draco and Aden met there to talk without fear of being overheard. Not even house-elves interrupted them there.
Draco found his brother stretched out in one of the hammocks, facing a large window that overlooked the rolling hills, woods, and mountains of the countryside surrounding Malfoy Manor. Aden's eyes rested on the morning fog covering the normally spectacular view.
"What's on your mind?" he asked as Draco threw himself into the other hammock.
"Father is throwing a Death Eater bash tonight – or something like," Draco answered evasively, propping his arm under his head and staring into the rising mist that glittered with sunlight.
"You didn't answer my question," Aden pointed out.
"I'm worried," Draco snapped. He didn't say 'about you' but it was implied. Outright admissions of affection made Draco cross.
"That's not what's making you strop around," Aden told him, finally turning a piercing, blue-eyed gaze on him. "Either tell me what's on your mind or sod off somewhere else for the rest of the holiday."
"You sod off," the youngest Malfoy muttered, sulking. After a moment, he glanced at his brother. "Anyway, you'd never let me hear the end of it if I did tell you."
"What haven't you told me, Draco? When have you ever kept a secret?" Aden demanded, rolling his eyes. "You're always so bleeding worried I'll take the piss and I never do."
"Do, too," Draco muttered. "What about last year, with the bloke in that place with the thing I bought?"
Aden snorted. "Yeah, that was wicked funny, though."
"Shut up," Draco muttered. "Anyway," he added. "Maybe I just came up here to warn you about the do tonight. I think Father means business this time. One of these parties will turn out to be the big one and you'll get the Mark."
"Let Father plan for whatever he bloody wants," Aden retorted. "I'm his heir and I've been trained my whole life to be a damned good one. Bastard worked too hard on me to cast me off because of some stupid tattoo I won't get. All I have to do is hope he dies in time for me to inherit the estate and put our family's money to better use than funding an outdated 'lord of darkness' or whatever. Until You-Know-Who gets his act together and turns up again, no one can force me to do anything."
"He could disown you – cut you out of the will," Draco suggested. "Father, I mean, not You-Know-Who."
"No kidding – although You-Know-Who probably has ways of 'disowning' me as well," Aden said, with a grim smile. "But like I said about Father, I'm the best bloke to take over from him and he knows it. No offense, mate, but you just aren't up to Lucius' par. Not that I'd want you to be. You're way too good for this lot. Anyway, I'm the perfect Malfoy heir; ridiculously good looking, charmingly witty –"
"Modest, as well," Draco pointed out, almost smiling. Then he frowned, watching the fog lift slowly and dissolve in patches as the grounds warmed up. "You know, you've got it really good sometimes," he told his brother. "All you have to do is marry some rich girl and inherit a fortune. Father wouldn't even notice if you married a Muggle. He's totally blind to your faults – if you have any."
"Sack the self-pity parade, yeah?" Aden said, amused. "Like you said, it's all well and good till the Dark Lord turns up and kicks the old man's sorry arse for being blind, deaf, and ugly. When that happens, and you're right, it probably will, I'll have a right sidemore to worry about than you, won't I?"
"I guess," Draco conceded, giving his brother another small smile.
"Right, quit changing the subject, prat," Aden said, nudging Draco's hammock with his foot. "What's on your mind?"
"Girls." Draco spat out the word.
"Uh-huh," Aden said, tapping his chin and staring at Draco. Draco shifted uncomfortably. "You fancy someone."
"She's pretty."
"Right. Blindingly seductive, your excuse for three cold showers a day. You can't keep your eyes off her."
"She's a redhead."
"A Weasely?" Aden glanced sideways with sudden interest.
"Damn you." Draco felt his cheeks warm and glared even harder at lifting fog.
"Don't blame me." Aden shrugged. "Most redheads are Weaselys. This generation only has one daughter, right?"
"Actually, I quite fancy their mum," Draco said, smirking. "I like fat women."
Aden snorted. "Contrary bugger. Answer the question."
"One daughter, fortunately," Draco muttered. "Ginevra. Makes her sound ninety and infirm, doesn't it?"
"Let me guess," Aden said slowly. "Innocent, noble Gryffindor type?" Though not a Hogwarts graduate himself, Aden heard enough from his brother about Quidditch to know the Houses by name and reputation.
"In one."
"You sure know how to pick 'em." Aden shook his head. "Aren't there any decent girls in Slytherin anymore?"
"Not really, and, oy, I didn't ask for this!" Draco snapped. "Hell, I wouldn't choose to be interested in a girl from a family of blood traitors. Do I look suicidal? What the hell would Father say?" He shuddered. Say, nothing. What would father do to Draco with Crucio?
"Well, a pretty girl's a pretty girl, mate," Aden pointed out, apparently unconcerned that Draco might be tortured to death for fancying a Weasley. "What're you going to do?"
"I don't know," Draco grumbled. "Ignore her. Kill her. Shag her, maybe."
"Tried any of those yet?"
"Nope."
"Well, get busy, then," Aden said. "Who cares about her family, right? If you fancy her, tell her. It'll be a lark for you, having a girlfriend on the sly. Just don't pull a Romeo/Juliet if the old man or her dad ever find out, yeah? I'll make sure no one kills you. I like having you around."
"Pull a who and a who?"
"You have got to take Muggle Studies, Draco," Aden said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, right, Muggle Studies," Draco said brightly, bouncing in his hammock. "The answer to all my problems lies in ek-leck-tricity, I'm sure. Thanks so much for your ingenious plan."
"You were expecting one?" his brother retorted. "What am I, your agony aunt? All I can do is give you angles. I can't run your life." He gave Draco an unimpressed look. "And you know my angle has nothing to do with Muggle bleeding Studies, so sod off."
"I know, I know, keep your face on." Draco liked Aden a lot but liked him a lot less when he chose to hex Draco into oblivion. It had only happened once and Draco never, ever wanted it to happen again. "I was hoping for more specific advice."
"Okay." Aden stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "What kind of cupboards does Hogwarts have?"
"Big ones," Draco said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Right. Get a fancy dinner, get her flowers, and make sure there's a large sofa in."
"Shag her … on a sofa … in a closet?"
"Or on the table, your choice. Why the hell not?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this – your Muggle Studies plan was better."
"Sod right off, Romeo." Aden's next shove almost toppled Draco's hammock. "Fine, don't shag her. Have a romantic snog or something. Suits me, either way. Just get her out of your system, right?"
Draco frowned. A careless, moment-by-moment relationship would have been his idea of a good time when dealing with, say, Pansy Parkinson, but it didn't feel right with Ginny. Not that it mattered, he reflected. She didn't know how he felt about her and if she did, she would probably cause him physical damage. Her entire family was mad, after all. And bloody violent.
Aden spotted the pause.
"Ah, not the easy sort?" he nodded knowingly. "Bad luck, mate. Usually, we Malfoys can pretend not to have feelings. Makes blowing off women much easier."
"I wish," Draco muttered, staring at the ceiling. Again, with Pansy or any of the other Slytherin girls, it wouldn't have been an issue. They liked a good time. Ginny, though …
"Never mind, Drake," Aden said kindly. "The fact that you recognize that you actually have feelings that flow in the direction of your brain is good news to me." Draco wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. "What do you want with Weasley, exactly?" Aden asked.
"Dunno. I can't stop thinking about her," Draco said darkly, after a moment's hesitation. "I see her - I stare. I hear her laugh - I can't sleep. I'm within fifty meters of her - we fight to the death." Aden's eyebrows rose. "All right, to the attempted disembowelment, then," Draco amended.
"You've really got it bad, haven't you?" Aden asked, staring hard at him. Draco fidgeted. When he didn't say anything, Aden said, "You in love with her?"
Draco would have choked had he been eating. Before he could say anything, for instance assure his brother that he was insane and who falls in love when they're seventeen, honestly, and never mind that we're talking about falling in love with a Weasley, Aden spoke again.
"I've got to run, kid." He was looking at his pocket watch, where a thin gold hand pointed to the words "You're late." He got up and started to leave. Draco opened his mouth to say something – any possible denial he could think of – but closed it again, still too shocked at the idea to be able to form any argument against it.
Halfway to the door, Aden paused, turning back. "You kissed her yet?" he asked, his eyes unreadable.
"Of course not! She'd probably bite my tongue off," Draco said blankly. Not that snogging her hadn't crossed his mind …
"Try and see what happens. You'd be amazed. Well, cheers." With a parting grin, Aden disappeared into the bookshelves. A moment later, Draco heard the doors of the library creak open and close with a gentle click.
He licked his lips, twitchy and irritable as he lay in his hammock. In love? The idea of being in love with Ginevra Weasley was absurd! First of all, Draco didn't do love. He wasn't even really sure he knew what the word meant, although he hadn't met anyone his age who did. Anyone could look up the definition in a dictionary, but the trite answers there never seemed to hold up in practice. What did it actually mean to be in love?
Draco couldn't believe he was thinking about it. Bloody Aden! He knew better than to let his brother to psychoanalyze him, which was what usually happened when Draco complained to his brother about anything from girls to Quidditch to their father. Aden had an uncanny knack for knowing Draco's mind, which, for someone as self-contained and independent as Draco fancied himself to be, was extremely annoying. Aden could also pull secrets from Draco that Draco originally had no intention of sharing.
The youngest Malfoy often wondered what made his brother so sure what was right, what was wrong, and what he, Aden, wanted. He'd never been interested in dark lords or dark arts, even when Lucius tutored him by the hour together and Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's former headmaster, had taken Aden as a favorite.
"What I want," Aden had once told Draco, "is the chance to decide for myself what I want."
Until then, the idea of not having a choice had never really occurred to Draco. Perhaps it was because he wasn't the Malfoy heir, but he had always drifted through life and school, letting his father's direction and expectations carry him along. Unlike Aden, he didn't have a clear understanding of his own opinion of dark lords and dark arts. He respected his brother's convictions, but wasn't sure he shared them. Although fairly sure that he didn't especially want to serve a Dark Lord and give his life over to someone else, he had essentially been raised to believe that that was his destiny. How did you fight your destiny?
Aden did. Draco wished he knew how. And why.
With a groan, he rubbed a hand over his face and sat up. His family was right. He'd been in a state or a strop or whatever since he had been home for the Christmas holidays. Yeah, he had a lot on his mind: his destiny, Ginny, his worries about his brother, Ginny, his holiday homework, Ginny, avoiding his father as much as possible, and Ginny.
In love? Draco? Honestly!
)SOMETIMES(
TBC