Chapter Two
Ron was still beside himself with rage as the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade station.
"Bloody Malfoy," he muttered again for what was most likely the hundredth time. "How in Merlin's name could Dumbledore make him Head Boy?"
"Give it a rest, Ron," Ginny said tiredly and waved one hand at him half-heartedly as the four of them got off of the train. "Hermione's a big girl, I'm pretty sure she'll be able to handle ferret face."
"Ginny's right, you know," Harry agreed, and slipped his hand into hers. He was rewarded with a dazzling smile from the small girl. Ron gave a disgruntled snort, and followed his two best friends and sister toward the waiting carriages and their invisible mounts.
Hidden in the shadows of the train, Draco Malfoy watched the four Gryffindors drift off toward the transportation that would take them to Hogwarts School. He only caught a small snatch of their conversation (ferret face) but was much more interested in the intertwined hands of the littlest Weasley and Boy-Who-Lived.
Interesting, he thought to himself. Potter may have a weakness after all.
He was jolted out of his musings suddenly when he heard his name being called. Turning to look, Draco caught the mischievous eyes of a black haired boy wearing Slytherin robes that were slightly askew. Rolling his eyes, Draco waited until the boy stood before him then said, "Zabini," with a slight nod of his head.
"Hey Malfoy," Blaise Zabini gasped while attempting to fix his tie.
He was slightly shorter than Draco and not as lanky, with a deep olive complexion and dancing eyes. An anomaly amongst the Slytherin house, Blaise usually had a smile on his face and a joke to tell. He was fiercely loyal, however he was placed into Slytherin for a reason; cunning and manipulative, what Blaise wanted, he usually got. Which was why he was friends with Draco Malfoy—no matter how many times he was pushed away, Blaise managed to push right back until the blonde had simply given up.
"You look like you were thoroughly snogged," Draco commented as the two boys clambered into a carriage together. Blaise only grinned in response which prompted Draco to ask, "Who was it this time? Mandy Brocklehurst corner you again?"
"Oh Draco, that was only one time—and she was actually quite a good kisser if you ask me," Blaise replied lightly. "Anyway, how was your summer hols?"
One of Blaise's talents was the way in which he could steer a conversation into a completely different direction when it proceeded down an unfavorable road; Draco scowled and filed that bit of information away to deal with at a later date.
"I'd really rather not talk about it," he muttered darkly and turned abruptly to face the window.
There was silence for a moment and then, "Draco? You can tell me, you know," Blaise said solemnly.
On the outside, Draco looked the picture of perfect calm. His face was schooled carefully into a mask of bored indifference and his eyes were as hard as ice—but on the inside, panic threatened to bubble over. He wanted to tell Blaise everything and his stomach was churning madly; it took every bit of willpower that Lucius had drilled into him since childhood to push until his feelings were completely gone. He pushed and pushed and eventually there was nothing left but a hollow emptiness eating slowly away at his cold, cold heart.
"Finally, we're home," Harry sighed happily as he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way into the Great Hall for the Welcome Feast.
Ginny smiled sadly at Harry's admission; it always pained her heart that he should find solace in such a temporary place—that he had never known what it was like to be loved so completely at every moment of every day by a family that never left your side.
The Great Hall was filled with warmth, laughter and chaos as always on the first day back at Hogwarts. Most students were already seated as the four Gryffindors made their way over to their house table and Ginny smiled at a few of her Ravenclaw friends as she passed them by. As soon as they sat down, the floating candles flickered announcing the arrival of the first years, who were led into the hall by a rather grim-looking Professor McGonagall. Ginny glanced around, not too interested with the sorting—no one she knew was standing up there looking terrified—and suddenly, her insides turned cold.
Brown eyes met with grey. So taken aback by the force of Draco Malfoy's gaze—and that look of utter death in his eyes—Ginny actually gasped aloud, bringing her hand over her mouth to cover her shock.
"Gin, what's wrong?" Ron leaned over Harry and looked at his younger sister in concern.
Difficult as it was, Ginny tore her eyes away from the Slytherin table and dragged them to her brother. "It was… nothing," she shook her head. "I just remembered that I still have an inch to write for my Potions essay—that's all."
She glanced at Harry and could tell he didn't quite believe her, but Ron had already turned back to the sorting and was whispering to Hermione about how hungry he was.
Studiously ignoring both Harry and the Slytherin table, Ginny opted to look at her shoes instead. What, she thought, could prompt Malfoy to look so… inhuman? He's a right git, of course, but Merlin— those eyes were colder than I have ever seen them. The sound of cheering made her pause and she glanced up to find that the sorting had ended.
"Thank Merlin," Ron moaned as piles of food magically appeared before them.
After she had eaten, Ginny felt much better and forgot (those eyes, like looking into deadlights) about Draco Malfoy in favor of enjoying the company of friends that she had missed sorely over the summer holiday. It was only after the feast and everyone had made to leave for their respective common rooms that Ginny's mood once again darkened. Her, Harry and Ron all looked sympathetically at Hermione who was putting on a brave face—one that would typically be seen on a man walking toward the gallows—as she turned to say goodbye.
"We'll walk with you if you'd like," Ginny offered.
Ron vehemently agreed, but his string of curses was cut off by a very firm Head Girl.
"No, you were right earlier, Ginny—he's just a ferret and frankly I think he was more disgusted at our sleeping arrangements than I was. He'll most likely leave me be, and if he doesn't well—we'll just have to cross that path as it comes, okay?"
True to Hermione's prediction, Draco wanted nothing to do with her. The mere thought of having to share a common room with the mudblood revolted him to the point of being sick, and he thought determinedly to himself that he would spend as much time away from the tower as possible.
He also thought, rather dejectedly, that he would be spending a lot of time alone this year. No matter how much he claimed that Blaise was as annoying as a Hufflepuff girl, he really idid/i enjoy the company of the dark-haired boy. Draco managed to ruin that effectively, though, on the way to the school. He had shut himself off to the world so completely that not even Blaise Zabini had been able to insert himself through the cracks.
Shame, Draco thought tiredly as he murmured the password to the Head Towers, he was just beginning to grow on me.
The portrait swung open slowly and Draco glanced once around the hallway before entering his common room. It was blissfully empty, but he noted with a curl of his lips that the mudblood had beaten him to their quarters by the sight of her worn book bag hanging neatly from a hook on the wall.
Taking in his surroundings, Draco noticed that the common room was done up in a garish myriad of red and green and he grimaced, thinking sourly that this must be Dumbledore's idea of a joke. Unable to stand much more of the hideous Christmas-like decoration, Draco strode purposefully to the door marked with a gleaming plaque that read Draco Malfoy: Head Boy and opened it swiftly.
Thank Merlin, he thought gratefully, no red or gold in here.
After an hour of double checking all of his homework, Draco finally collapsed into the large, four-poster bed and squeezed his eyes shut. He was furiously willing the unbidden images of (oh god I was the last thing she saw before she died) the terrified witch to stop burning the inside of his brain. Knowing it would be no use, the pale Slytherin muttered Nox and the candles in his room snuffed themselves out.
The last thing he thought of before drifting into an uneasy sleep was the reaction of the girl-Weasley as she brought her eyes to his in the Great Hall. He knew what she had seen in his face.
True to his word, exactly one month after Draco had left Malfoy Manor for Hogwarts, Lucius floo'd into the school to talk with his son. Draco was packing up his things from an uneventful Potions class when Professor Snape sourly asked the Slytherin to stay behind for a moment. Once the rest of the class filed out, Draco looked expectantly at his Professor with one eyebrow raised.
"My office tonight. Nine sharp, is that understood?"
Glancing once into the knowing, black eyes of the Potions Master, Draco nodded his head succinctly and turned to leave.
"One more thing, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said smoothly.
"Yes?" Draco asked, turning around and hefting his bag onto his shoulder.
"Do please stop treating Mr. Zabini as though he is invisible—if I have to endure one more moment of him trying to get your attention, I'm sending the both of you to the Forbidden Forest to collect my ingredients." There was a scowl on Snape's face and without waiting for a word of response from his student, the Potions Master swept past Draco and out into the hall.
For Draco, the rest of the day was spent in silent contemplation. In the weeks that had passed, he hadn't been able to gleam any information on Potter, although it was not for lack of trying because the Slytherin had tried. He went to great lengths and was forced to endure one particularly embarrassing moment when he was caught hiding behind a suit of armor by the King Weasel, who then proceeded to turn an unnatural shade of red which clashed horribly with his hair.
Frowning, the Head Boy hadn't the foggiest clue as to what he was going to relay to his father which made his heart speed up in trepidation. The only thing he really could tell Lucius was that the Golden Boy was dating King Weasel's younger sister—what was her name? Ginny? It wasn't much, but hopefully his father would be placated by the sheer amount of homework that Draco had been assigned in preparation for N.E.W.T.s and, he thought smugly, the fact that he scored higher than Granger in their Transfiguration homework two weeks in a row.
Before Draco knew it, he was standing outside of Snape's office door trying to fight off his nerves. The first lesson that Lucius ever deigned to teach his son was to never, under any circumstances, betray any emotion when presenting yourself in front of a superior. Draco took this lesson to heart, knowing only too well what would happen if he were to betray anything to his father; with skin as fair as Draco's, bruises were easy to form and difficult to hide.
Forcing the last of his emotions away, Draco rearranged his face into a mask of coldness and calm and knocked on Snape's door. It opened almost immediately and Snape's sallow face looked down on the Head Boy in disdain. "Come in," he said curtly. "Your father will be flooing in shortly."
"Did you—I mean, does Dumbledore know?"
Snape nodded negatively. "We have our own brand of magic," was all he said.
And then, in a rush of emerald flame, Lucius Malfoy was standing before Draco and the Potions Master, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight. "Good evening, iSeverus/i," Lucius said smoothly. "You were missed at our last meeting," he gave a pointed look.
"Yes, well," Snape drew himself up and turned to leave. "That is between our Master and me, isn't it?"
Sneering, Lucius merely ignored the black-haired man and turned to his son. He waited until Snape had closed the office door behind him before saying, "do you have anything useful for me boy? You'll be sorry if this was a waste of my time."
Looking directly into his father's eyes, Draco began to speak. "It has been a busy month, father," the Slytherin said. "I've beat Granger twice in our Transfiguration marks."
Lucius's lips curled. "You think," he said cutting Draco off, "that this is what I came to hear? That you have finally stepped into your shoes as a Malfoy? That perhaps you won't be such a disappointment after all? You should have been beating her in marks since your first year, Draco, and if you've nothing more pertinent to tell me then I am afraid you are going to have to learn your place."
Face impassive throughout his father's speech, Draco continued as if he hadn't heard a word that Lucius said. "Potter, Weasley and Granger have been meeting with Dumbledore all month; although I could never get quite close enough to hear what they whispered to each other when they left his office, I've gathered that he is keeping them updated on what's happening outside."
Lucius looked slightly intrigued by this fact and encouraged, Draco kept speaking. "I also heard Granger mention something about a—a book. And a locket. Do either of those mean anything to you?"
"No," Lucius said curtly and turned back to the fire place. "Next time," he told his son, "I expect better from you."
"Just a moment, father," Draco raised his arm as if to stop the older man. "There's one more thing and I don't know if this will be useful at all, but Potter's got a… girlfriend."
"Oh?" Lucius said, turning back around. "Who?"
Draco folded his arms casually and leaned against Professor Snape's personal desk. "The youngest Weasley. Ginny, I think her name is."
Lucius's face was thoughtful for a moment and then he murmured "interesting," so softly that Draco had to strain to hear. Without another word the tall, silver-haired Death Eater turned to the fireplace and disappeared.
At first, Ginny had just stared dumbly. Then—as his words sunk into her consciousness—she felt like Harry had hit her with the Cruciatus curse, followed swiftly by Avada Kedavra. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe and certainly was too numb to notice the silent tears that were streaming down her shell-shocked face.
Two months. Ginny Weasley was walking on air for exactly two months, three days and five hours before her world, her happiness, and her heart came crashing down around her. She and Harry spent every moment they could steal away from school work to be with one another. It felt like a fairy tale and Ginny was the princess—of course, she remedied, I don't need any bloody saving, or some such rubbish—and together they made for the perfect couple.
Until it was ruined by a stupid, bloody owl carrying the Daily Prophet in its beak.
Hermione who, despite Harry and Ron's protests that she stop reading the rag of a newspaper, continued to receive her subscription in order to "keep up with things—there is a grain of truth to every lie, you know," she argued. And so, not really expecting anything to be amiss, the Head Girl had unrolled her copy and immediately let out a shriek, dropping her Pumpkin Juice as she did so.
"Hermione! What's wrong?" Harry jumped up from his seat, followed closely by Ron.
"It's… it's… oh it's horrible! Ron," she said softly. "Ginny."
Concerned, the younger girl tugged the paper gently out of Hermione's limp hands and said, "oh my god, mum… dad… this can't be true, can it?" Tears were welling up in her eyes as she handed the iDaily Prophet/i to Ron.
On the front page was a large picture of The Burrow and the headline read, Attack on Known Supporters of Harry Potter!
Just then, Professor McGonagall rushed into the Great Hall and, seeing the stricken expressions on the faces of her students, headed over to them immediately.
"Professor," Harry began. His face was pale and he was rubbing his scar angrily.
"They're fine, everyone's fine," she said quickly. "Ron, Ginny—your parents and brothers were at the Headquarters and thank Merlin for that. They haven't sent any owls for fear of interception but Dumbledore is there now. You won't be allowed to see them just yet—too dangerous—but I promise you, no one was hurt."
As she was talking, she led the four distraught Gryffindors out of the Great Hall and away from the student body and their questioning stares. Hermione wasn't the only one who had a subscription to the Daily Prophet and by now, the news had spread through the entire school.
McGonagall didn't say another word until she reached her office and ushered her students inside. "Sit, all of you—please. There is something else that needs to be said before I let you go and—it might come as bit of a shock."
"What could be worse than this, Professor?" Ron asked sadly. He squeezed his sister's hand gently, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
"The thing is," McGonagall breathed deeply. "It seems that the aim of this attack wasn't exactly to kill—only one room was destroyed in its entirety. The rest of the house is untouched, as far as anyone can tell."
"What does that mean?" asked Hermione. "What room?"
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, and then looked directly at Ginny. "I think this was meant to be a warning from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named directed towards you, Ms. Weasley."
"Wha—what?" the redhead asked shakily. "My room? It's gone?"
Two months. That's all it took before Harry Potter realized what a complete and utter fool he was. How could I even believe, he thought angrily to himself, that I could live a normal life? How could I bring her into danger like that? What was I thinking?
Harry and Ginny were both standing in the Gryffindor common room after their Head of House had finished talking to them. McGonagall excused the four of them from their classes if need be, but Ron and Hermione opted to attend in order to let Harry and Ginny have a moment alone.
"Harry…" Ginny put a tentative hand on her boyfriend's arm. "Harry look, I know that you're upset but… but it's just a room. Just a house. Mum and dad… Fred and George… they're safe. That's all that matters! And I was here… pretty stupid of them, don't you think? If they wanted me dead they've attacked the wrong part of the country!"
She could tell that he was trying to gain control over his anger, over his overwhelming guilt. It was a battle that Harry could never win—and Ginny saw for the first time how frightening he could be when he was angry. His green eyes found hers and the look in them was so similar to that of Draco Malfoy's that Ginny took a step back in horror.
"Don't you understand Ginny? It was for me. That message, it was for me. Voldemort is telling me that as long as I keep up my fight against him—I will never be free, and neither will the people I love! I can't stand it if I see you get hurt-killed-by that monster! I won't stand for it! Ginny… we can't be together. I'm sorry."
The boy standing in front of her was no longer Harry Potter, but the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and as he walked slowly away from Ginny, from the girl that he almost loved, Harry found the strength to keep on fighting, even if it was just for one more day.