A/N: I'm baaaack! I know, I know, it's been a loooooong time. I'm sorry. If I were following this fanfiction, I would hate me right now.
Some quick updates on this story: My goal is to complete it by March 18. That's the 10-year anniversary of the completion of my other (kind of) novel-length fic, In The Bleak Midwinter. Yes, TEN YEARS! It's insane. Anyway, now I've put the goal out there and you can expect frequent-ish updates in order to reach it. We've got a long way to go.
In the next couple of chapters, this fic will also start to live up to its rating, so be warned.
And now, without further ado . . . Chapter Eleven!
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Chapter Eleven: House Rules
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Dear Mother,
I know you've never been one for sugar-coating, so I will get straight to the point. I have a request-I've been put in the unique position-I've been left with no choice but to leave Hogwarts and return to the manor. I will explain the exact situation when I arrive. I also need-I require some help from others to resolve my current situation. At the recommendation of Severus Snape, I have invited them to the manor. Please expect me and three others tomorrow evening (Friday) around five o'clock. They will be staying for an unknown period of time.
If you would like to be undisturbed, I would recommend a trip to one of our other estates for the next few months.
Draco
Draco scanned the letter once more, ground his teeth, and then balled the parchment between his fists and tossed it across the room, only to get up a few minutes later and retrieve it. He'd tried writing this letter a million different ways, with all variations of apologies and requests. This latest attempt was rather formal, even by Malfoy standards, but he realized there was no way around it. Narcissa Malfoy would be upset, no matter how he worded it, when she heard that a Granger and two Weasleys were moving in.
So he'd avoided names—except for Snape's, yes, he'd been careful to add that one in for good measure—and he'd conjured all the authority he could muster as the rightful heir of the Malfoy estates. Narcissa owned a quaint little cottage in the south of France (and a vault inside Gringotts that was meant to be untouched, despite the recent decline in family fortune), but the rest of it was Draco's, and Draco's alone, after Lucius's imprisonment. Which meant, no matter what she might say, he could invite whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was really nothing she could do to stop him.
Somehow the thought didn't uncoil the cold snake of dread that had snuck into his stomach.
(&)
Ginny did not know why she'd suggested the visit to Hagrid's. At least, she was telling herself that she didn't. In reality, she knew perfectly well that because she couldn't bring herself to say "I'm moving to Malfoy Manor and there's nothing you can do to stop me," she'd blurted out "Why don't we go visit Hagrid?" instead.
"This is nice," Harry said. He smiled at her, a tentative grin, unsure. "I've been hoping we could spend some time together." His eyes trailed down to her hand and stayed there, as if he was longing to reach out and grab it. He added, "I've been missing you."
Ginny's heart lurched in her chest. She hated to hear the sadness in Harry's voice, seeping out like blood from an open wound. She'd been missing him, too. But she'd also been worrying about the curse, worrying about her future, worrying if she was making the right choice. She tended to be impulsive and she knew it. Perhaps it was easier to be always charging ahead. That way, she didn't have to stay and face her other problems.
Coward, she thought to herself.
They walked up the steps to Hagrid's hut. Harry rapped his knuckles on the door, and Hagrid's great beard-shielded grin appeared moments later.
"Harry!" He beamed at the two of them. "Come in, come in! Ginny, it's funny I should see yeh today . . ."
They followed him into the hut, heading towards the table, where he gestured at them to sit. As they climbed onto his enormous chairs, Ginny heard a strange, high-pitched mewling coming from one corner of the cabin. It took a moment for her to place it, and then she remembered—Hagrid's kneazles!
Harry must not have visited for a while, because he wore a confused and slightly worried expression that was not uncommon when dealing with unknown animal noises in Hagrid's cabin. Fortunately, Hagrid bent over the nest of blankets that was the source of the mewling and rose with a tiny white kitten in his hands.
"Last one left," he said as the small creature crawled its way up his arm toward his beard, now purring. "Sold his brothers and sisters to some witches in Hogsmeade—with Professor Snape's permission, o' course." Hagrid stood beside Ginny, eyebrows raised. He picked the kitten off his beard (with some effort, since the little creature was clinging with its claws) and held it out to her on his giant palms. "He's yers if yeh want him."
Ginny formed her lips to say, "I'm sorry, I can't"—just as the tiny kneazle jumped from Hagrid's palms and into her lap. It's purring increased in volume as it began kneading her thigh with its paws.
"Looks like he decided for you," said Harry, grinning at her from across the table.
"But I—"
"'S no different than havin' a cat," Hagrid said, cutting her off. "McGonagall already approved it, and she's head of yer House."
Ginny wanted to curl her arms around the kitten and hold its soft fur to her cheek, but her body didn't obey her. It fact, it was determined to rebel. She heard her own mouth shape the phrase, "I can't have a pet because . . . because I'm leaving Hogwarts."
(&)
Dean pushed himself off the cold stone of the dungeon wall. "Luna!"
Her wide eyes shot over to him as she came out of Slughorn's potions class. Other Ravenclaws parted around her and filed ahead as she drifted over to where Dean stood.
"Morning, Dean," she said. "I didn't see you at breakfast."
"Didn't go." They followed after the other students, Dean forcing his long legs to a slow and steady beat in order to match Luna's pace. "I overslept."
"Hmm," was all she said, her attention drifting to the backs of the other students.
The silence stretched until they reached the stairs. "I couldn't fall asleep last night," Dean said as they climbed. "I kept worrying about—well, that Prefect meeting was very strange, wasn't it?"
"The way Ginny kicked us out?" Luna asked, her voice barely carrying from her place one step above him.
He waited until they reached the next floor up. "Yeah," he said. Their shoulders bumped as he walked beside her again. "She seemed pretty hacked off at the Slytherins, until . . ."
"Until that owl showed up in Malfoy's room."
"Owl?" Dean stopped in the hallway, turning to face her. He raised his eyebrows.
Luna sighed. "You must've heard the tapping sound. You know, the one that tipped them off to kick us out."
"Well . . . now that you mention it, maybe, but—"
"It's a sound I've heard a hundred times," she continued. "The sound of an owl tapping on the window to deliver a letter. So, Draco and Ginny must've been expecting a letter of some kind—"
Dean frowned at her. "You just called him Draco," he said.
Luna blinked at him, that piercing stare as unnerving as ever. "That's his name, Dean."
Dean could not think of something to say in response, so after another silence, they started walking again, drifting down the hall to another staircase. "So, you think there was something important in that letter?"
"Important enough that they didn't even bother with an excuse for making us leave," said Luna. "Too distracted. So, who would be writing such an important letter to both Draco and Ginny?"
For a moment, Dean thought Luna was asking a rhetorical question. But, when she didn't respond, he shrugged and said, "Snape?"
Apparently this was a very weak guess. Luna stopped walking again, turning to Dean with what would have been exasperation on any other person. "Headmaster Snape lives at Hogwarts," she said. "Why would he need to send them an owl?"
"So . . . someone from outside of Hogwarts, then? But who would send a letter to both of them?"
"And why was it delivered to Draco's room? I think Draco—"
"I know it's his name, but it's weird," Dean muttered.
"—I think Draco must have sent a letter to someone first." Luna raised her voice a bit to override Dean. Her eyes focused on something beyond the hallway as she kept talking. "He must've sent something out that Ginny knew about, and the answer mattered to both of them. It makes sense that it was about the curse—otherwise, why would Ginny care?—but who from outside Hogwarts would write to both of them about the curse?" She had no sooner asked the question than her eyes refocused on Dean and she said, "Hermione."
"But if it's about the curse," Dean asked, "why wouldn't Hermione write to all of us?"
A crease appeared between Luna's eyebrows. "Come on," she said, taking Dean's hand and tugging him along. "Let's find out."
(&)
"But why are you leaving Hogwarts?"
Draco froze, wand half-raised, to give Blaise a sharp look. "If you think I'm going to let Granger and two Weasleys live in my house without me there, you really don't know me at all."
"Your mum will be there," Blaise pointed out.
Draco rolled his eyes and flicked his wand, sending books flying from the shelf to his trunk, which was open in the middle of his bedroom. "I hope not. I told her to go to her cottage if she wanted to be undisturbed."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "If you think your mum is going to move quietly away and not ask questions, you don't know her at all."
Draco sighed. "You're right. I know she'll stay to find out who's coming over, and what's going on, and then she'll go mental when she finds out the truth."
"So, don't tell her the truth."
Draco's head turned sharply to where his friend sat on the four-poster bed. "What?"
Blaise shrugged. "Lie. Don't tell her about the curse. You know she's got enough to deal with right now."
"What could I possibly tell her instead? 'Oh, don't fret, mother. I've just invited our former enemies over for a brief holiday in the middle of term?"
"It's hardly the middle. Term just started."
"Not. Helping." Draco gritted his teeth and turned from the now-packed books to the miscellany strewn across his desk.
Blaise stood up and crossed to help his friend. As materials started flying about the room, he said, "Look. Why don't you let me come, and then I can do all the talking?"
This managed to coax a small smile from Draco, but he shook his head. "I couldn't do that to you."
"But you wouldn't stop me if I did it to myself?"
The last item—a Slytherin scarf—curled into place in the trunk. Draco walked over and slammed down the lid. "You'd be missing your seventh year again."
"Bollocks to my seventh year." Blaise grinned at Draco, his dark eyes flashing with mischief and something else. "We have a curse to break."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but just then, they heard footsteps and voices in the common room outside his door.
"Ginny!" It was Lovegood. Draco hated that he now recognized the half-mad Ravenclaw by the sound of her voice, but then, that was what came of sharing a dormitory with Weasley. He crossed the room and flung open his bedroom door to find her hand-in-hand with Thomas.
"Draco," she said when he appeared.
"I really need to have a chat with Snape about the password system on this dormitory."
But she ignored him, looking over his shoulder to find Blaise, an empty room, and a trunk. "You're leaving?"
Draco leaned against the threshold of the door, trying to appear casual while simultaneously blocking her view of the room. "Weasley's not here," he said.
"Is this about that letter you got from Hermione?"
"How do you know about that?" He stepped into the common room. "I knew Weasley couldn't keep a secret."
"It was actually just a guess," said Thomas, glaring now, "but apparently it was a good one."
Draco glared right back. "My mail is none of your business."
"It is when it's about a curse that we're all under," said Lovegood matter-of-factly. "We want to hear what was in the letter."
"And why you're leaving," said Thomas.
"And what it has to do with the curse."
Draco sighed at them both, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Gods, but they were all the same, Potter's little fan club. Couldn't take no for an answer when it came to saving the day. "Look—" he began, but he was interrupted when the door to the common room burst open again, admitting Weasley and—the president of the club himself. Potter.
"I've already decided, Harry, and I told you, you can't make me change my mind!"
Weasley looked as angry as Draco had ever seen her, and that included the few times he'd glimpsed her during the Battle for Hogwarts, and the time she'd cast that horrific bogey curse on him during his fifth year. Neither of those were very good memories for him, for multiple reasons.
"Ginny," Potter said, his voice at a deceptively normal volume but hard as stone, "can we please continue this discussion in private?"
Draco glanced over at him and found him glaring back. "By all means," said Draco, indicating the door they'd just come through, "leave. You'd be doing me a favor."
"Harry, this is not a discussion. I'm going. End of."
"What?" asked Thomas, just as Lovegood said, "Where are you going?"
Draco narrowed his eyes at Ginny. Don't say it, don't say it, don't—
"I'm going to Malfoy Manor."
Bollocks.
There was a three second silence, and then everyone started talking at once.
"Wait, what?" asked Thomas. He sat down, hard, on an armchair, as if his knees had gone out. "You're not—she's not serious?" he said, turning to Lovegood, who was already speaking.
"Are you sure that's the best idea?" she said, in her calm-under-the-oddest-circumstances voice.
"Absolutely not," said Potter for what must've been the hundredth time. "If you just stop and think for a second—"
"Ahem." Everyone fell silent again and looked to Draco, who took special care to appear casual as he strode to the hearth and turned to face the room. "In case you'd all forgotten, we are cursed." He adjusted his tone to that which he might use with a small child, if he ever had occasion to address one. "We need information. We can't get it here. I happen to have a very large house full of empty rooms and a library with one of the most extensive private collections in Wizard Britain." He glared at them all. "You're welcome."
"You also happen to have imprisoned most of us in your 'very large house' less than a year ago." Thomas stood up from his chair again, his face fierce. "Do you expect me to thank you for that?"
Draco blinked, caught off guard (though he never would have admitted it). "I don't think—"
"Yeah." Thomas crossed his arms and stared Draco down, nostrils flaring. "You don't."
"If you want to stay here and rot away, be my guest." Draco felt his heartbeat accelerating. For an instant, the room seemed to spin.
Thomas seemed to hesitate, warring expressions fighting their way across his features, until at last he said, "All right, I'll come."
"What? No. That wasn't an invitation—"
"Then I'm coming, too," Lovegood interrupted. "We're not about to let Ginny go live with you without moral support."
"She lives with me already!" Draco pointed out, before realizing he was getting far off the point. "Look, it doesn't matter. You're not coming."
Blaise chose that moment to step forward and lean casually against the wall near Draco. "Actually, it might not be a bad idea."
"Betrayed by my own House." Draco gave his friend a blank look. "Are you mad?"
"Maybe the curse addled my brains." Blaise smiled, but it faded quickly into seriousness. "Remember the part where your mother doesn't find out about the curse? Maybe the more people show up, the more you can convince her to leave."
"I think two Weasleys would do the trick just fine," said Draco through gritted teeth.
"This is madness." Potter spoke up in a low voice that trembled ever-so-slightly with anger. "I can't believe you're all serious."
"Do you have a better idea, Harry? Or do you want to be cursed forever?" Weasley's eyes were flashing almost amber-red from the firelight, a terrifying sight to behold.
"I just think there must be some other library in Britain that we could use," Potter said. He gave Weasley a beseeching look. "Any other library."
"Not one that we can access for free, without answering questions or drawing attention to ourselves," Blaise pointed out. "Or have you forgotten the part where most of you are heroes of the wizarding world?"
"He's right," said Lovegood, sounding surprised at her own words. Blaise narrowed his eyes at her, but she continued, "You're all over the press, Harry. If word gets out you're cursed, our lives will get much harder."
"Or we'll get the answers we need," he said. "Maybe someone who knows something will come forward."
"Did you learn nothing from Rita Skeeter?"
Draco stifled a laugh at Weasley's question, remembering the torment Potter had endured in the papers during his fourth year. Weasley shot him a glare that would silence a banshee. "I'm just saying," she added, enunciating each word, "once we do that, we can't go back." Looking at Potter then, her face softening, she said, "Shouldn't we at least give this a try?"
A muscle twitched in Potter's jaw as he met her eyes. Draco watched him clench a fist at his side and then relax it. Potter let out a breath. "Fine. All right. We'll give him a chance. But if he so much as insults us—" He turned to Draco. "We're done. Forever. You can figure out the curse on your own."
Draco straightened his shoulders and tried to ignore the fact that room spun a little bit again. As colors fell back into their usual places, he said, "How magnanimous, Potter. I presume this means you're inviting yourself, too?"
Potter glared, but managed a stony nod.
"Wait!" This was Lovegood again. Everyone turned to stare at her. "What about Pansy?"
Draco and Blaise exchanged a look. "Good point," said Blaise at last. "She's the only cursed one not coming. Should we bring her along?"
Weasley cleared her throat to get their attention. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Draco stared at her so long without blinking that she began to look a bit uncomfortable. Good.
"There's just something—about her—since the curse." Weasley pretended to scuff the carpet with her shoe. "I feel like she's enjoying it a bit too much, don't you? Something's not right."
Draco would rather spend a weekend with Hagrid than admit that Weasley had a point, so he stayed blank-faced, but Blaise spoke up. "I've noticed it, too," he said. "It's almost made her—healthier. Stronger. It's like she . . . wants to be cursed."
"If we bring her along, she may try to sabotage our plans to break the curse," Weasley said. "But we need to keep an eye on her, too. If we leave her alone . . ."
"Who knows what she could get up to," Blaise finished for her.
Everyone stared at each other for another long silence. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Potter, you should stay," he said at last.
The other boy flashed him a glare. "Why me?"
"You're a professor," Draco pointed out. He took pleasure in watching Potter's face get stormier as he went on. "Or did you forget?"
Realization struck Weasley's face. "He's right. It's perfect, actually. You can stay here and teach, and you'll see Pansy at least once a week. We'll keep in touch via Floo so you know how we're doing."
"Yeah," said Potter after a moment, sounding absolutely crushed. "Perfect."
"And I'll see you during the Christmas holidays—" Weasley started to say, realizing her mistake, but before this could go on for any longer, Draco held up a hand.
"Now that you've all invited yourself to my house," he said, "I think I need a break from listening to your voices." He raised pale brows. "Do you mind?"
Thomas looked ready to get argumentative again, but Lovegood took his arm and tugged him toward the door. "We'll go pack," she said, leaving him no room for argument, and then they were gone.
Draco turned to the remaining Gryffindors.
"Come on," said Weasley, shooting Draco a glare as she stepped toward her room. "We can talk in here, Harry."'
"Actually, I think we've talked enough for one day," Potter said. Weasley turned and stared at him as if he'd started speaking Parseltongue. "I'm going to get back to work. You know, lesson plans . . ." He turned toward the dormitory door.
Weasley took a step after him. "Harry, wait!"
But his reply was the click of the door behind him as he walked away.
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Wand: check. Trunk, shrunken down with a spell and tucked in her cloak pocket: check.
Boyfriend (ex?) who was currently not speaking to her, not even to say goodbye: check and mate.
Ginny sighed, leaning against a giant boulder that may or may not have been dislodged from the Hogwarts wall during the infamous battle against Voldemort. She tried not to think about that. Not Harry, not the curse, and not the giant battle that killed her brother and many of her friends. Yet those were the topics that kept springing to mind.
Blaise and Draco were talking in low voices several paces away, while Dean and Luna gave her their now-familiar pretend-we're-not-looking-but-really-we're-checking-for-signs-of-mental-breakdown looks. Ginny picked some imaginary lint off her sleeve.
At last, Draco took a step toward them and said, "Very well. Here's how it's going to happen—"
But he could get no further than that before Harry appeared through the main doors and started down the stairs toward them. Ginny straightened up immediately and adjusted her wool cloak across her shoulders. She was about to pat down her hair, but she caught Draco rolling his eyes and let her hands fall to her sides.
"Harry," she said when he paused a few steps away. "Thank you for—"
"You forgot this," he said. He wasn't looking at her, not exactly; he seemed to be focusing on her left ear instead. She shifted to catch his eyes, but he managed to avoid her. When she finally gave up and looked at his hand, Draco was already saying, "Oh, no. Not in my house."
Harry was holding the little kneazle kitten from Hagrid, the white one. It fit perfectly on his palm. When Ginny met its eyes, it gave her a high-pitched mew in greeting.
"Hagrid wants you to take it," Harry said, his voice firm. When she tried to meet his eyes again, he was glaring at Draco.
"Not. In. My. House," said the Slytherin boy again.
Ginny ignored him, took a steadying breath, and stepped up to meet Harry. She was still a bit shorter them him, even standing on the same stair, but not by much. She reached out and cupped her hands around his, beneath his palm, so he could gently set the kneazle into her hold. She felt the warmth coming off him, but she was afraid to step closer. "Thank you."
He held his hand above hers for a few moments longer, and then before she could blink, the kneazle was in her grasp and Harry's hands were in his pockets. The autumn sunlight glinted off his glasses and made it difficult to meet his eye.
"Harry," Ginny murmured, low enough that none of the others could hear, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we argued, and I'm sorry that you're not coming." She hoped he would read the truth in her eyes if he couldn't hear it in her voice. (If he'd even look at her in the first place.) "But I have to do this. I'm sick of being the one who stays behind."
That got his attention. He stared at her for what felt like ages until the briefest of smiles lifted one corner of his mouth before disappearing. "And now it's my turn for that."
An irrepressible part of her thought, So you understand now what it was like, watching you leave and being unable to follow Or rather, uninvited. But she couldn't quite bring herself to say it.
"Goodbye for now, then," Harry said. The kneazle's claws dug into Ginny's palm for a moment and she bit her lip in surprise, but she didn't look away from Harry as he bent down and kissed her lightly, briefly, on the corner of her lips. And then he turned around before she could say anything back. She felt a pleasant memory of warmth where he'd kissed her, and a painful ache in her chest watching him walk away.
When she turned to face the others, Draco's eyes were boring into her. She blinked at him, surprised by the intensity of his gaze, but after a long silence, all he said was, "That thing's still not coming."
(&)
"I didn't know kneazles could go through a Portkey," Luna said as the group marched down a wide dirt lane. "Or animals of any kind, for that matter." For a moment, all they could hear was the sound of crunching footsteps, until she added, "Do you have to be holding them, I wonder?"
"Of course you have to be holding them," Blaise said. "How else would you—oh, for Merlin's sake, nevermind."
He was looking to Draco for some kind of intervention, but his fellow Slytherin merely gritted his teeth and said, "It's not coming indoors."
Ginny tucked the tiny, mewling creature deeper into her left cloak pocket. "He'll starve outside."
Draco muttered something that indicated he was not entirely against such an outcome. Ginny took an indignant breath as if to respond, but Blaise cut her off.
"At last!" he said, sounding for all the world like a house elf with a smelly sock in its hands. "Thank Merlin for that."
They'd reached a gravelly drive framed by dark hedges that led off from the country lane. As they turned down that way, Dean asked, "Couldn't our magical transportation device have dropped us off a tiny bit closer to our destination?"
"Maybe for a plebeian muggle residence like yours must've been, it would," Draco said. "Malfoy Manor is unplottable."
"Like Hogwarts," Luna explained when Dean merely grunted. "Can't use any magical transportation in or out."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean muttered. "This is bringing back some memories of the last time I was here." He glared at the back of Draco's head. "Which isn't exactly a good thing."
"You can stay in a bedroom suite this time," Blaise said over his shoulder as they rounded a bend. "Full-size windows. Claw-footed tub. Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count higher than the Astronomy Tower." A grin split his face. "You'll like it."
"Wanna bet?" Dean said, but Blaise either didn't hear or chose not to answer. At that moment, Malfoy Manor came into clear view from around the curve. Ginny almost stopped mid-stride. It was huge, sprawling out its white stone in all directions, with tall, square towers offset by squat, round ones. A black marble fountain bubbled with life in the center of the circular drive. Ginny tried to make out the sculptures, but an ornate pair of wrought-iron gates blocked her view.
Draco led them up to the gates and held up a pale hand so they would stop. Ginny caught Dean giving him a disgusted look. Draco said, "I gave Granger and the other Weasley these coordinates. They can't cross these gates without me, so we'll have to wait until they show."
Ginny squinted at the sky. The sun was still shining over the hedge, but barely. It must be early evening by now, and since they'd stopped walking, it was actually a bit chilly, though not as bad as it had been further north at Hogwarts. She hugged her cloak to her, careful not to squish the silent kneazle, and tried to imagine Ron's face when he caught a glimpse of the manor.
She didn't have to wait long for the real thing. Ron and Hermione crunched their way around the corner about fifteen minutes later. Ron was scowling worse than Ginny had seen in a long time, and that was before he spotted her. This was not going to be fun.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked calm and in control. "Malfoy," she said, giving him a slight nod that was cool but not frigid.
"Granger." Draco sounded a bit strained when he said it, but not altogether sneering, which was a vast improvement over the norm. Ginny was starting to think everything would be manageable when—
"Ginny?"
She flinched.
"What on earth are you doing here?"
She braced herself as her brother faced her in two strides and clamped his hands on her shoulders as if he'd physically turn her around and march her all the way back to Hogwarts. "Ron, listen—"
"You," Ron said, turning a blinding glare on Draco, who raised a bored eyebrow in response. "You forced her to come."
"Ron, don't be ridiculous," Ginny said, freeing herself and taking a step back. "I volunteered to come. I want to help break this curse."
Ron turned back to her. He seemed to be so angry that he was turning red, which wasn't actually unusual for him, until she realized that the red was just his aura, like the other ones she'd started to spot since the whole ancient curse disaster. It worried her that she'd become almost used to them. Seeing such a familiar face as her brother's framed in riotous color reminded her that things were very strange indeed, and she should not be sitting idly by. She squared her shoulders. "I'm sick of doing nothing, so I came here to help, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."
"Mum will—"
"Mum can't change it, either."
"I'm sure Harry—"
"Harry knows."
"You can't give up Hogwarts," Ron said, a bit desperate now. "Hermione, tell her."
Hermione wore a slight frown, but she shrugged and said, "Ron, Ginny is of age now, and besides that, she's perfectly capable of making up her own mind." She gave him the look she'd give a child who dropped his first ice cream. "You might as well accept it and move on."
Ginny let out a sigh of relief and mouthed, "thank you." Hermione nodded, but her frown remained intact, half-worried, half-pensive. Ron looked flabbergasted that his appeal had backfired so drastically upon him. After a second, he said, "Hang on—" but he was too late.
"Enough," said Draco, who looked ready to take his pick from the Unforgivable Curses. Glaring them all down, he said, "Before we go through these gates, there are rules." He held up a long, pale finger for each rule as he continued. "First, let Blaise do the talking. Second, no magic in the house."
"But—wait—"
Draco silenced Hermione's sputtering interruption with a chilling glare. "Third, don't touch anything you don't have to. And most importantly—don't wander around alone."
"Oooh," said Dean in a sarcastic voice, and Ron snickered, but no one else said a word. Apparently taking their silence for consent, Draco waved his wand hand and the wrought-iron gates disappeared in a wrinkle of dark smoke. They started through them, single-file, when Ginny felt the kneazle wriggle in her pocket.
"Don't worry," she whispered, half to comfort herself. "He didn't say any rules about you."
(&)
