Chapter 10: Politics
"Tell me something about your parents." Ginny looked up at where she had been resting against his chest in confusion. "My parents?" They had been lying in silence for the last few minutes, simply enjoying being so physically close. It was Sunday again, three weeks into 2nd semester.
The day after coming back, Draco had called out to her as they crossed paths between classes. He told her to meet him before dinner. That he hadn't appreciated being abstinent for two weeks, and they ought to make up for lost time. Goyle had laughed coarsely, and Ginny had blushed before nodding and rushing off. Since then, they had picked up where they had left off before the holidays, and avoided any questions about what Ginny had brought up in the carriage. He never mentioned Millicent or the possibility of stopping their meetings, and she was more than happy to go along with it.
"Yeah, your parents. I know the basics. Your mum was a Prewett. Your father works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. I think he collects muggle things too? Father's ranted about it before. The injustice of the Ministry fining him for owning wizarding artifacts when it's your father who illegally messes around with muggle ones." Ginny found the image of Lucius Malfoy ranting about her dad difficult to process. It made him seem more human than she liked. How well did their fathers actually know each other anyway? It couldn't all just be from work, could it? What business would Lucius Malfoy have had with her father's department? Had they known each other at school? She knew they weren't quite the same age, but they were close enough that some of the school years would have overlapped.
"Well, my mum is the best cook in the country. She's absolutely brilliant at charms too. She keeps trying to teach me ones for washing clothes or washing dishes, but I'm not nearly as good as her. It's the only bit of magic she'll let me practice at home though. She takes the no magic until you're of age pretty seriously. I think she's afraid we'll hurt ourselves otherwise. I blame Fred and George for that mostly."
"So no house elf then?" Ginny shook her head, and reminded herself not to care. He knew her family had grown up poor. Still, she was expecting some sort of reaction. She was sort of shocked when he didn't have one. He only rearranged his arm around her so he could play with her nipple, and kept talking. "We don't have one either. At least, not for the last year or so. We'd always had one while I was growing up, and then Potter took it. I don't know what the hell he planned to do with it, or what he ever did do with it. Dobby had always been a bit of a nut, even for an elf." Ginny repressed a laugh and made herself stay silent, letting Draco continue. His hand was now massaging her breast lazily. She shifted so that she could trail her fingers over his abdomen, hoping to tease him back.
"Mother was in a complete state at the time. Father wanted to try and get one from a friend, didn't think it really mattered, but she wouldn't let him. Said that without family loyalty, what good were those creatures? She didn't want just any old elf. She managed to convince my aunt's old elf to relocate to our Manor instead, and Merlin was that an experience. Father had to fight with it for ages until it finally stopped trying to replace anything Malfoy with some Black family heirloom. It kept sneaking Aunt Bella's stuff in too, all of which you can imagine was not particularly tasteful. Still, it was better than nothing. When my aunt and uncle were freed though, the elf was back with them and the dust has been piling up ever since."
Ginny was only surprised until she had a chance to really think about it. After all, where would Narcissa Malfoy have learned cleaning charms from? Hogwarts didn't teach them, and she doubted the Black family had ever been without a house elf. It was sort of nice to know they didn't have one anymore, and didn't know how to cope. She knew how to do a type of magic that the Malfoys didn't. A type of magic that would be helpful to them.
She kissed Draco's shoulder and moved her hand down. She lightly stroked his hardening member as she talked. She told him that she had heard quite a bit about Dobby. That he now worked at Hogwarts, wore Hermione's knit wear, and was considered a complete pariah by the other elves. She laughed at Draco's expression of incredulity. "It's true. He's the only elf that would go near Hermione or her things after that whole spew business." "Spew business?"
Ginny had to think for a moment about how to explain it. What Hermione had said about it had never quite made sense to her. "She wanted all house elves to work for money. Or not work at all maybe? She'd try to free them by tricking them into picking up clothes. I never really understood why." He looked just as confused as her. "She was trying to kick them out of their home? Exile them? Why? Did she hate them? What would they do without work? And what would a house elf do with money? They don't need it for anything." Ginny didn't have any clarification to give him. "I don't know. Ron never understood it either."
There was a break in conversation as Draco grabbed her wrist, moved it off of him, and then flipped himself over her, so that he was looming above. "You know what I could never stand about Granger?" Ginny's body stiffened and every nerve seemed taut. This was dangerous territory. He had to know she was friends with Hermione. That she didn't approve of the word mudblood or insulting someone because of their parentage. "What?"
"She assumed she could find out anything from a book. That just because she read, she knew more about our world than anyone else. Like being a witch just meant you had to know spells, the properties of potion ingredients, the translation of runes, whatever. Unless you need it for your job or you really love it, no one remembers that bullocks once the NEWTS are done with. And instead of observing and asking questions to figure out the important stuff; our traditions and culture, she just spouted off her own opinions acting like she knew better than anyone else."
Ginny grappled for a moment to form some sort of defense. Having him above her like this, both of them naked and him half-hard, did nothing to help her think. Not to mention what he had said was not what she had been expecting, and said in those terms, she wasn't sure if she didn't agree with at least part of it. "Well what was she supposed to do then?"
His eyes narrowed and his grip on her wrists got tighter. "Shut up and realize she was the interloper who needed to change and conform." She looked into his eyes, keeping her expression controlled. His response hadn't shocked her. It hadn't turned him into some revolting person. She hadn't liked what he said. But he was being honest with her. "So what? Muggleborns should just sit quietly and allow themselves to be stepped on? Hunted down? Have their wands snapped?"
His erection was gone, but he continued to loom over her. She suspected he liked the feeling of power it gave him. "No. I didn't say that. I said they should respect our world, and not judge it or try to change it. Those in power, those who do bring about change, should be people who can appreciate all the intricacies of their decisions. Be from families who would know and have taught them how to protect our interests."
The thought that purebloods should be the ones in power wasn't radical. It was what most people had believed for centuries. She could even admit to seeing some sense in it; how else was their world supposed to preserve their ways? She knew from Hermione, Dean, Colin, and others that the muggle world was changing rapidly and getting further and further away from the wizarding one. The muggle world was becoming more and more like some foreign country. And what country would put a foreigner in charge? Draco was right about at least one thing; some things they just didn't seem to get. Like Hermione's inability to understand house elves, or Dean not understanding why wizarding ways were better than muggle inventions. Ginny had always prided herself on being able to appreciate the odd things muggles invented. But Dean's stance on muggles surpassing wizards had been ridiculous.
Muggles apparently put music on disks and then could listen to them wherever they went. But didn't that destroy the point of music? If it was always at your fingertips, able to be listened to constantly, wouldn't it lose its value? Muggles stared at screens for entertainment, but why was that a good thing? Weren't they missing out on real life? Muggles were spending fortunes to put bits of metal into space, but why? How was that going to accomplish anything? If a wizard wanted to be weightless or perform experiments without gravity, he could do it with levitation charms. Dean had mentioned what muggles used instead of quills, and again it seemed convenience was all muggles cared about. What about the experience? The smell of ink, the heaviness of parchment, the art of knowing how to dip your quill for just the right thickness of lines.
"Well maybe there could be some kind of committee. Some way for muggleborns to have positions of power, tempered by pureblood or halfblood colleagues that could advise them about wizarding ways. I don't know. I'm not a politician." He smiled down at her, and Ginny glared. "What?"
"Nothing. You're just so…kind. Idealistic. Naïve." Offended, she tried to twist her wrists free. Land a blow to him. It was a gut reaction, borne out of a childhood of growing up with six brothers. His brow furrowed and he let go of her, sitting up and daring her to hit him. She saw the challenge in his eyes, and it brought her back to her senses. She might not have grown up with money, but she had grown up with manners. She knew that hitting a wizard was no way for a witch to act. Not in a relationship. "Sorry, I just...I'm not naïve." His gaze softened and he traced her cheek. "It's a good thing Gin. I'm callous, selfish, and cynical enough for the both of us. You can keep us balanced. Remind me that not everyone is only self-interested, wanting power for themselves no matter what that means for others. I love that about you. I need that."
She felt as if there was an expanding charm buried in her ribcage. He loved that about her? He thought they balanced each other? "Draco?" It was an unspoken question. Heavy in the air between them. Did he love her? Instead of answering, he moved back onto the bed, and then yanked her into his body, holding her tight and kissing her fiercely. Ginny was half dazed by the time he began to speak.
"I was wrong all those years ago. Dismissing your whole family as the wrong sort of wizard. There are more important things than money or having a large house. You're what I want in a witch Gin. You're smart and powerful. You're protective of those you love. You're competitive and can hold your own against others. I'm not ignorant. I know what those other girls say to you. But you don't let it bother you. You either hex them or dismiss them completely. Do you know how bloody impressive that is? Without ever having to say it, you show you're superior to them. It's brilliant." Ginny flushed as Draco looked at her. She had never been complimented so thoroughly before. He really thought that about her? They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking, and then Ginny pounced.
Grabbing his head, she pulled him into a deep kiss. Her hand quickly dropped down between their bodies and began stroking him frantically. She felt like she couldn't kiss him deeply enough. That she wanted more of him than was physically possible. She whimpered against him as his hands gripped her arse cheeks and his mouth moved off of hers to suck at her neck. She wanted him. She wanted him so much, it ached. His erection was slowly growing, but she didn't want to wait. Not letting herself overthink it, she shoved against his chest. Startled, he let go of her, and Ginny moved herself down the bed so quickly, he had no time to figure out what she was doing until he suddenly felt it. A long, loud moan escaped him as he felt his cock be engulfed by the wet warmth of her mouth.
Ginny had never done this before, but it seemed what she had heard was right. He loved it. She sucked him off, encouraged to keep going by his noises. Even as her cheek muscles began to feel sore. Even when she nearly gagged, having tried to take the full length of him in. She only stopped when she thought he might cum. She began kissing up his body; his stomach, chest, collarbone, neck, and then she was at his ear. "I want you. I want your cock in me, your hands on me, your mouth on me." She fully expected her talking like this to send Draco over the edge. To get him to grab her, pin her down, and fuck her hard. Instead, he gripped her waist and spoke.
"Why? What is it about me that you like?" Ginny stopped breathing for a second. And then she dredged up all the Gryffindor courage she had. "I like how you're strong on your own; how you manage people, how you figure out what the best way to act is. That I can go off and do my own thing, and know that you're doing your own thing. And then come together, it feeling completely natural. I like that you're stubborn and unafraid of making enemies. That you're not ashamed to do what will keep your family safe, not ashamed to denounce muggle culture, and not ashamed to um, adhere to tradition."
A knowing look came into his eye, and he smiled slightly. Ginny felt herself go warm all over. He knew. He knew and he was willing to take that on. All of the things she might secretly want or think, but couldn't say. He did say, and would say, and he would take on the blame for the things she didn't want to admit to. And then to lighten the mood, she added "And of course there's the money. While your Christmas gift was deeply appreciated, I have to say I'm looking forward to a very expensive, completely ridiculous Valentine's gift from you."
"Oh is that right? You're using me for my money now, are you? If I didn't know better, I'd say you had some Slytherin in you." His tone was teasing, and Ginny forced herself to adopt an angry expression. In fact, she was nearly bursting with anticipation at having thought of a witty comeback.
"Well I certainly want some Slytherin in me, but instead he's prattling away. Any idea how to fix that?" The comment threw him enough that he needed a moment to catch on, but the result was most satisfactory. When he looked at her, Ginny saw a whole array of emotion; admiration, happiness, amusement, and lust. "On your back with legs spread. Now." Ginny complied, pleasure engulfing her they came together for the second time that night. Merlin, did she love how he made her feel.
"Do it! Do it now you disgraceful excuse of a witch!" Ginny shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face. And yet, her feet moved forward and her arm went up. She couldn't make her body obey her. It was as if her mind was disconnected from her body, unable to do anything but look on in horror. She heard a faint "crucio" and almost didn't realize it had come from her own mouth. The dog in front of her stopped yanking at the chain holding him in place, and howled with pain. The imperius curse ended, and Ginny dropped to the floor, sobbing as the dog whimpered.
Amycus was nearly beaming with pride. "Look at that power! Even with not a bit of feeling behind it, look at what she did! There's the magic of all yer ancestors flowing in ya. Change yer tune, an' you might do great things yet Weasley." He smiled at her, only to scowl as she continued to sob. "Stop yer damned cryin! Magic is might, the strongest power out there. Muggle, goblin, dog, whatever you come across. Not a one is to be cried over. It's our job to show them their place, eh?" The rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sixth years could only look at their professor with wide eyes. He took their silence as agreement, and grinned.
"Alright then. Back to the lesson. Cynric, you're next." Ginny found herself blasted backwards, courtesy of her professor, while Cynric stumbled forward to take her place. Dark Arts had never been pleasant, but today was just awful. In order to begin teaching them how to perform the cruciatus curse, Amycus had been imperiusing them one by one, forcing them to use it on this poor, unfortunate dog. It was an unbearable pain, being forced to watch as an innocent creature was hurt over and over again, unable to do anything about it. Unable to watch, Ginny turned her head away and found herself staring at Elise.
Elise had vomited after being released from the imperius curse, and had then passed out. Her head was still lying in a pool of her own sick, and no one was allowed to help her. Amycus had made it quite clear that Elise had been weak, and deserved to lie there in shame. If anyone tried to help her, he would replace the dog with them and they would not only be crucioed for the rest of class, but be the victim for the seventh year class of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well. He explained that permanent brain damage was likely, and then his eyes had glinted madly and he had begun laughing.
Ginny had long ago decided that something terrible had happened to unhinge the Carrow siblings, but as it turned out his laughter was warranted, given his twisted sense of humor. He had already been anticipating his next class, and had predicted what would happen. It wasn't until dinner and Ginny saw Neville that it all began to make a horrible type of sense. Neville was being carried into dinner by Seamus and Justin Finch-Fletchy. They flanked Neville's sides, carrying Neville's weight between them. Neville looked half crazed, sudden tremors shaking his body, and without Seamus and Justin, Neville would surely be nothing but a twitching mess on the floor.
As they got Neville into a seat, Ginny found herself hissing in outrage. "What are you two thinking? He doesn't need dinner, he needs the Hospital Wing. How many times was he crucioed?" Seamus glared at her. "Do you really think we don't know that? He's not allowed to be treated. Carrow's orders. The bastard told Neville to go first, and Neville just stood there and refused. So Carrow tried to curse him, but Neville dodged the imperius curse. And then, well, Carrow's next curse hit and Neville was bound in place. We all were forced to torture him. Nine of us, Gin. Nine crucios."
It was as if the world had become nothing more than background noise. She didn't know what she felt; what she wanted to do. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something. She looked at Neville and felt her stomach revolt against the thought of food. She overheard Lizzie ask if he would be alright, and heard Lavender say quietly that they had all tried their best to put no power into their curses. That hopefully, their crucios were so pathetic, that he would be back to normal in no time.
It was the constant hope these days; that they would simply recover from their classes and go back to normalcy. Muggle studies forced Ginny to write essay after essay about how muggles were like animals, how they were destroying the planet, how they were suspicious and violent, how they were given to panic and paranoia. Not a word about their creativity and perseverance to make their way in the world, despite their vulnerability and limitations.
Worse still, was Dark Arts. The class that forced them to practice magic with the intention of hurting others. Carrow spent nearly every class now trying to convince them they would never be respected unless they were willing to use dark magic. He seemed convinced that other creatures would rise up and try to kill them, unless they forcibly subdued them with magic. The two Carrows seemed to live in a constant state of paranoia, desperate to make the students see they were being threatened by anyone or anything that was not a witch or wizard.
It was beginning to mess with everyone's minds. Everyone seemed more afraid and confused than ever before. Just last week, Ginny had found herself ranting at a pair of terrified third years. The girls had been sitting on a windowsill between classes, wondering just how muggleborns had managed to steal magic. Overhearing them, Ginny had stopped in her tracks and hissed angrily at them. She remembered telling them that whole notion of stealing magic was codswallop, and that only an idiot wouldn't be able to see through the Ministry's lies. She knew she had scared the girls, but she hadn't been able to reel in her anger. She had threatened to turn them into rats the next time they said a word against muggleborns, and then stormed off, not trusting herself not to do it that minute.
Then there had been that fight with Pucey. During their last practice, he had managed to outmaneuver her to grab the quaffle three different times. While galling, she had endured it, refocused, and managed to end their practice with possession of the ball. He had flown down, infuriated, and told her she had only won due to luck. That her flying was clumsy and pathetic. That the half-breed oaf could do better. She had defended Hagrid, only mildly annoyed at the insult. And then he had said it. That half-breeds were an abomination. That Hagrid and the wizard that had sired him should have both been killed for polluting magic. That Hagird was a result of bestiality. Ginny had lost it, hexing him with abandon, and sending him to the Hospital Wing. Pucey had reported her to the Carrows, and Ginny had spent dinner collapsed on the floor of the Great Hall, her vocal chords shredded and her muscles sore and leaden from the torture.
The next day, Draco had managed to get her into the prefects' baths again. This time, she had soaked until her skin pruned up. He had demanded to know what she had been thinking, and nearly gone mental when she told him it had been in defense of Hagrid. Ginny had let him rant about how stupid it was to get tortured on account of nothing more than words. How her life was more important than protecting someone's pride. And even though he was mad at her, lecturing her, she had felt a quiet happiness. He cared about her. He wanted her safe and sound.
She hadn't spoken to Pucey since, actively avoiding him in their shared classes. Her instinct would have normally been to try and retaliate against him, but she worked hard not to. Draco had nearly pleaded with her to drop it and let Pucey think he had won for now. Draco hated watching her get tortured, and knew that a fight with Pucey would invariably end with her getting another detention.
It had been a shock to realize that she was willing to change her behavior for Draco. That if it really caused him distress, she would try not to do it unless she really felt she had to. She hadn't agreed easily. She had used the opportunity to force Draco to agree to something as well. He had scowled about it and demanded to know why she was so worried about it, but in the end he had agreed to it. As long as she avoided antagonizing Pucey, he would avoid antagonizing Neville. Ginny knew that Neville was emerging as a target for the Carrows. That they itched for excuses to try and grind him down. She wasn't in any of Neville's classes, and really couldn't help him like she wanted to. But if she could at least make sure the Slytherins didn't target him as well as the Carrows, well at least she was doing something. Not that Neville knew what she had done of course.
And now things were even more serious. Nine crucios. That sounded very much like Amycus really didn't care if Neville went mad or not. It sounded very much like the Carrows were highly suspicious of Neville, and had more than an inkling that Neville was an enemy. If this war lasted, Ginny had no doubt Neville would be joining the Order upon graduating. Had the Carrows had the same thought? Were they beginning to see Neville as a danger, instead of a malleable mind to shape?
Neville didn't eat any dinner, but did manage to hold a dinner roll that he systematically tore into shreds. He stared at it with deep concentration, moving his fingers with deliberate precision. Ginny got the distinct impression that he was making sure he had control over his muscles. At least, she hoped it was that, and not the movements of a man with a broken mind. He stayed eerily silent throughout all of dinner, and didn't even so much as glance up at any of them. Everyone tried very hard not to stare, and to immerse themselves in conversations, but inevitably their eyes would be drawn back to Neville.
As dessert appeared, conversation abruptly fell off as Neville finally looked up. Ginny's heart nearly leapt. His eyes were clear and focused. "Pass… the …pudding… please." There had been a pause between each word, as if each sound had taken an immense effort, but he hadn't slurred or mumbled. As she looked at his face, Ginny realized he was very much aware of all the eyes on him. He was forcing himself to try and recover as quickly as he could, when all he undoubtedly wanted to do was curl up and cry. Quickly, Ginny grabbed the bowl of pudding, and placed it right in front of Neville. He took a deep breath, pulled his arm up, and clenched his fingers around the spoon. Then slowly, deliberately, he picked up the spoon, scooped up a bit of pudding, and ate it. It didn't dribble out as Ginny had feared it might, although he did take a very long time to swallow it. A wave of relief seemed to sweep over the table. It was ridiculous, but seeing him eat something seemed to have been the assurance they all needed. He would recover.
Later that night, Ginny lay in bed and thought about the dog. Next to Neville's example of defiance, she was ashamed of herself. It didn't matter that they had been imperiused to do it. It didn't matter that had they resisted, they would have had to take the dog's place. Neville hadn't let that scare him. There was no excuse; she had acted like a coward. There was only one thing for it. She would have to make amends. Damn the consequences. Tomorrow morning, before breakfast, she was going to help that dog escape.