Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.
Summary: After weeks of waiting for the inevitable, Draco now must take over all responsibilities as head of the Malfoy family. However, as he gains one thing, he may find that he has to lose another...
THE RISE AND THE FALL
Chapter 14: The Opportunity
"Are you frightened of me, Ginevra?" Draco asked quietly, looking back at her as they lay in bed. "When I become the wolf, I mean." He knew she wasn't in the least bit afraid of him as he was now, not even when they had barely known a thing about each other. At least, her body language never seemed to say she was scared of him.
"No, why would I be?" she replied, a quizzical look on her face. "If I was scared of you, I wouldn't have asked to be with you when it happened."
Draco reached out to smooth away a strand of hair from her face. "You know that isn't considered 'normal', don't you?" he said with humour. "Not many a witch or wizard would do such a thing. I know I wouldn't have."
Ginevra smirked back at him and gave a short shrug. "Well, I have been known to do things out of the ordinary in my time," she replied, a humorous gleam in her bright brown eyes. Draco was sure that he must have been so blinded by insignificant details at school that he hadn't had the time to realise how intriguingly unique the colour of her eyes really were. They were unlike any pair of eyes he had seen before despite being such a mundane colour as brown. But, it was the fire he saw behind them that invited him in, and the golden flecks surrounding her black pupils that sealed the deal. Truly, he regretted the time he had wasted at school with anyone other than Ginevra Weasley.
"Marrying me is one of them, I suppose," he replied smoothly.
"I guess it is," she answered, smiling back at him.
"Why did you do it, though?" he asked seriously, moving closer to her so their heads were almost touching one another.
"Marry you? You know why I -."
"No," he cut her off, "why did you want to be with me when I became the wolf?"
Ginevra broke their gaze and looked down, worrying her lip with her teeth. "I don't know, really..." she answered hesitantly. Draco didn't believe her, whenever she lied she had to either look away or hesitate or both. He couldn't say for definite whether or not he had seen through every lie she may have told him, but he knew this one was definitely a lie. But, he didn't become angry with her.
"Ginevra, there is nothing to fear from telling me the truth," he supplied reassuringly, tipping her face back up to look into her eyes again. "Unless you had planned to kill me in my weakened state."
"What?! No! Of course not!" she said as though offended by his suggestion. "You know I would never -!"
Draco chuckled at her reaction; he rather liked it when she became angry. "I know, I was only playing with you," he finally said, making her frown at his admission.
"That isn't very funny, you know," she replied in a prim voice, pursing her lips in indignation.
"I know, I'm sorry, but you are so easy to rile up, my sweet Ginevra," he said, trying to suppress the laughter in his voice, to no avail. "But, tell me the truth," he continued in a serious voice. "Why did you ask to do it?"
Ginevra swallowed visibly, obviously feeling put out by the question. "I... I just wanted to know you," she answered slowly as if she didn't want to admit this to him at all. "I want to know you and that means knowing the wolf as well."
Draco looked back at her, glad that she opened up to him. He understood that it was still hard for her to talk to him in such a way, to express her feelings like that to him. Even though they had gotten to know each other quite well physically, they still hadn't managed to get very far with the emotional side of their relationship. Yet, he remained patient. Draco had come to realise that she needed to truly trust someone before she could fully open up with them, and she had obviously not reached that stage at the moment. He hadn't even reached that stage at the moment. "The true wolf is a mindless beast," he admitted, regretful at this one fact. "What you saw was only the Wolfsbane doing its job and keeping me of sound mind."
"I know," she said softly, then she shot him a playful look. "But, maybe one day I'll turn into a little kitten and join the mindless beast."
"The poor little kitten would be torn to shreds before she could even make a sound," he replied, mocking sadness in his tone as he drew her to the warmth of his body. "And I'd hate to see my little ginger kitten hurt."
"Then perhaps I'll turn into a wolf then," she countered, nipping his bottom lip with a sharp snap of her teeth remorselessly, but he felt no pain, all he felt was an intensely heated thrill run up his body. "And I'm not ginger, I am a redhead."
"You wound me," he muttered, licking away the blood she had drawn carelessly. Then he kissed her harshly on the mouth, eliciting one of her small gasps that told him one thing, and it was simply to take her. Draco had learned that this slip of a redhead was quite a dark horse; he would have never guessed her desires could run so deep having been a virgin only recently. And he never once missed the opportunity to give her what she desired; after waiting so long, why would he?
It would be a miracle if she wasn't with child by now. Wholeheartedly, he did not want her to be, he wanted to be alone with her for longer. But, he knew he couldn't give her any potions, couldn't cast any charms, otherwise he would be betraying his family. He would be betraying the whole purpose of their marriage. He returned his attention back to Ginevra, who was returning his kisses with an infuriating gentleness as though she were trying to tease him.
Draco smiled against her mouth and departed for her body, forcing her to cease her play and be the victim of his. But, before he could barely get a gasp out of her, a resounding POP! caused them to stop instantly.
"Master Draco!"
"Can you not see I am in bed, Ix?!" he asked menacingly, facing the trembling house elf as Ginevra yanked the sheets up to cover her nakedness.
"I know, Master Draco, but... oh, no!"
Draco felt Ginevra tense beside him as Ix began to cry suddenly, falling to his knobbly knees and forsaking his usual grandiose behaviour. "What is the meaning of this, Ix?" he asked firmly, checking his anger this time. He had never seen a house elf cry or behave in a manner like this before, except when... "My father? Ix, is it my father?" he insisted. The house elves had not cried like this since his mother had died.
"Yeeees," Ix wailed uncharacteristically, sobbing wildly. "He-he c-calls for y-you, M-Master!" Ix had sprawled himself on the floor by this point, inconsolable. Draco really could not fault the loyalty of most house elves.
Ginevra shifted from the bed and pulled on a dressing gown. "It's OK," she soothed, walking over to Ix and bending down beside his broken form to pat him sympathetically on the back. "Don't cry, shhh..." She looked up at him with wide eyes, worry written all over her face as she stared at him sitting there frozen to the bed. Ginevra knew what this meant now, and was likely wondering to herself about his current inaction.
Draco moved swiftly from the bed then and quickly dressed himself without thinking or feeling. All he needed to do was get to his father. Without a word to Ginevra, he left the room and hurried towards the east wing, almost running by the time he arrived outside his father's chambers. But he stopped short. Why was he doing this? Why did he care if his father died without seeing him? The questions led to his mother. He had never said 'goodbye' to her; Draco couldn't even remember what his last words to her were, that was how mundane it must have been that he could not recall their last moments together. Steeling himself, inhaling deeply, Draco pushed the handle down and walked into the room.
It already seemed as if he were too late, what with the crowding of house elves around his father's bed, all of which were crying inconsolably. Then his father's eyes opened a crack at the sound of Draco's arrival.
"Leave us," Lucius croaked out to the sobbing elves.
"Yes, Master," they said in unison, their high-pitched voices strained with emotion.
Once they had left, Lucius motioned weakly for Draco to come closer to him. "Do not fail the family, son," he said so quietly, Draco had to bend to hear him. "Do not fail me."
Draco stared at his father, his eyes wide. "I won't," he replied in a firm voice. This was the worst he had ever seen Lucius and it was such a contrast to the strong and self-assured father he remembered as a child. It actually stirred up feelings he had thought long gone. He was ready for it, he had been preparing himself for it ever since they had been told his illness could not be cured, but now... now he felt like a little boy again. "Are you going to die?" he whispered, not looking at his father.
"You know the answer to that already, Draco," Lucius replied, his breath shortening.
Draco closed his eyes then and sank onto the bed, his back to his father. Of course he knew the answer. After everything Lucius had done to him and how he had treated him, as well as Ginevra, he could not stop the surge of guilt swelling inside of him. His attack had weakened Lucius greatly and he had been bedridden ever since; it was his fault he was dying now... surely he would have longer left had he not hexed him. Unbidden, memories of his father came flooding to him. Lucius Malfoy had always put on a cold exterior to the world, but with his family he was as caring as any husband and father should be. Lucius stood up for his wife if anyone ever dared to insult her, he picked Draco back up should he ever fall, and proudly spoke of his only son to all who would listen. That was until the Dark Lord had returned; everything changed when he came back and they were practically forced to be servants in their own home. Then, he had been bitten... and the supposed unbreakable bond between father and son did just that; it broke.
"Don't cry for me, son," Lucius said, his voice rattling with every breath he took.
Draco snapped to look at him. "I am not crying," he said sharply, sneering as he felt a stray tear fall down his cheek. "Not for you anyway!"
Lucius didn't seem as though he had heard Draco's outburst. "Forgive me, Narcissa," his weak voice pleaded in a whisper. "Forgive me... Draco?" he muttered suddenly, grasping his hand with unexpected strength. "Protect her, if you feel for her, protect her..." He began muttering incoherently as his grip slackened and Draco knew he was close. It was nice to believe that he would be joining his wife once he died, but Draco knew that wasn't going to happen; Lucius Malfoy had done terrible things in his life and he was never going to get a reprieve, not from some higher power and most certainly not from him. But, Lucius didn't seek his son's forgiveness, only his wife's. "You mustn't fail, Draco," he repeated insistently, his eyes wide and looking on the brink of madness.
"I won't" he replied calmly, but inside he was deeply shocked. His father had never behaved this way before in his life and it was still quite heartbreaking to witness. "Ginevra and I will strengthen the family legacy together."
Lucius smiled meekly at this promise. "Leave me, then. I don't want you to see this," he whispered, his body beginning to tremble, but he locked eyes with Draco, grey on grey, until finally Lucius shut his eyes once more, preparing for the pain his death was about to bring him. "Goodbye, son." Draco stared back at his father a moment more, dumbfounded and not speaking a word. Hastily, he swallowed any tears that may have threatened to fall and left the room without a backwards glance.
Draco rested against the wall outside his father's room, listening to him dying and he never thought death could be so loud. Not even after everything he had witnessed in the war and its regretful aftermath. Lucius' pained wailing and incoherent speech forced a surge of grief to well up inside his chest, but he disregarded it harshly; why should he grieve? How could he grieve? This was a man who had done nothing but impede him ever since he had been infected by that beast, and yet... still he couldn't forget the father he had been.
Then all was silent.
He stood, wide-eyed, staring at the door to Lucius' room. That was it. He was gone just like that and they had never reconciled. They hadn't even attempted a reconciliation, but Draco knew that this was never going to happen, he had always known from the moment they had received the diagnosis. Lucius had behaved like he didn't care about dying and had immediately thrown himself into searching for a wife suitable for his son, as it was now imperative they find someone fast. But all offers were rejected, even by Pureblood witches who weren't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, even bribing their families had failed them. Then, as Draco was on the brink of asking a foreign witch of questionable repute for her hand, his father had told him of Ginevra Weasley down in the dungeons. Draco had agreed without argument; a Weasley was the best he could hope for in his circumstance and now it was all he could thank his father for in the end. He sighed then, and finally left the east wing to return to Ginevra.
Ginevra looked up from some book she had been reading on the bed, now fully dressed. "Is he..?" she trailed off, uncertain how to ask.
"Yes," he replied emotionlessly, sitting beside where she lay with a tired sigh.
"Are... you OK?" she hesitated, a comforting hand on his arm.
"Never been better," he muttered carelessly.
She shifted closer to him and pulled him into her arms. "It's alright to be sad, Draco," she said softly, stroking the back of his head. "He was still your dad. No matter what he has done, he'll always be your dad."
"And don't I know it," he said indignantly, but relaxing under the gentleness of her hands. "Everything around me reminds me of that fact every day."
"Be... grateful that he was who he was," she said quietly, hesitant again as though the words were difficult to say. "I'd say his influence has protected you more than you realise."
"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning as he sat back up to look at her.
"Don't you realise how bad it is for werewolves?" she asked, eyebrows raising a little. "The werewolves who fought with that disgusting Greyback may have been afforded some luxuries, but even their privileges are diminishing, Draco. Don't you see? It's only going to get worse for you... for us."
Draco stared back at Ginevra, wondering if she spoke the truth, but deep down he knew she was right. Being exiled in Britain showed the stark truth of it. When he had been bitten, he had been cast out from the ranks of the Death Eaters; even those werewolves who fought for the Dark Lord did not bear the mark. Unfortunately for Draco, he did bear the mark, and this fact disgraced him more than if he hadn't. "We will move to Europe, or America, Ginevra," he replied finally after contemplating her words. "Now I control the Malfoy assets, things will be a lot easier. I may even be able to change the main residence to somewhere else now, then the inheritance will not be affected."
Ginevra sighed in a defeated manner. "I don't want to leave England, Draco," she admitted, her brow furrowing as she looked to him for some flicker of agreement.
"Why? There is nothing for us here now," he replied flippantly, confused by her admission. What could possibly be stopping her from wanting to leave this awful place? She had expressed her hatred for the Dark Lord's regime enough times.
She looked at him wide-eyed, as if in shock. "'Nothing'?" she whispered incredulously. "My family is 'nothing'?"
"I'm your family, Ginevra," he answered firmly after a short pause.
"I have a mum and a dad," she said in a hurt voice, and he could see tears slowly forming in the corners of her eyes. "I have brothers. They are my family too."
"And soon you shall have children," he replied mercilessly, frowning at her. Why couldn't she see that there was nothing he could do for her family? It was unlikely that she would ever see them again, why couldn't she accept her new one? "Soon, we will have our own family to worry about. Soon, you shall be a mother."
A tear slid down her cheek, and he felt a pang of guilt. He was always weakened by a girl's tears, but this was important; Ginevra had to realise she needed to be fully invested in this now, otherwise his perfect image of their happy family would be ruined. All he wanted was peace. "I'm not ready to be a mother," she answered sharply, turning away from him then. Any sympathy she may have felt for him had completely vanished.
Draco had had enough. No matter how much he wanted to wait for children, he was fed up with her attitude towards it. "You had better get used to it, then, because it's going to happen," he retorted, standing in front of her so she couldn't avoid him.
Ginevra glared up at him, her arms folded in resentment. "And Merlin help it," she said scornfully. "With a mother and father such as us, and in a world like this..." Ginevra scoffed bitterly, turning her face away from his gaze and her body slumping.
"Would you rather I put you aside, then?" he snapped, dragging her up from the bed forcefully by her arm, glowering at her begrudging face.
She glared up at him, the fierce look in her eyes matching his own. "You wouldn't," she said coolly, confident in herself and wrenching her arm from his grip.
"So sure, are you?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, smirking as he detected a hint of insecurity in her eyes. It satisfied him to know that, if there was some insecurity there, she worried about being displaced by another. Of which, he knew would never really happen. "Then refuse me."
"What?" she bit out.
"Refuse me," he repeated, challenging her, daring her to do it. In all honesty, Draco wanted her to refuse him because then his triumph would be all the more pleasing. And he knew he would triumph. Ginevra had not snubbed his advances once unless she was incapacitated. A thrill went through him then as she looked up at him in determination.
"Fine," she said in a haughty voice, turning away from him. "I refuse you."
After the morning he'd had, those words were the distraction he needed to forget that, for now, he was the only living Malfoy in the Wizarding World. Once he had forced her to admit defeat, only then would he begin to shoulder the responsibility he had now inherited.
Ginny shut herself away in the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief as she rested her back against the door. Ever since their argument a few days ago, Draco flirted relentlessly with her and teased her to the point where it was unbearable. Just now, she had been about to drift off to sleep until he sidled up beside her and tried to slide his hand up her nightdress. She had jumped up from the bed and announced that she needed the bathroom, but all she wanted was to escape him for fear of giving into his advances. It really was a challenge, especially since he seemed to know just what to do to make her feel such things. Ginny never would have thought in a million years that Draco Malfoy could please her, but so it was.
"You can't stay in there forever, my little red," his low voice called through the door suddenly, making her gasp in surprise and jump away from the door.
Ginny glared at the door as if it were the one to blame. "I am not in here for fun," she retorted, a little angrier than she had intended.
Draco chuckled. "No, you are in there to escape me," he replied assuredly, humour in his voice. "I am experiencing a bit of déjà vu here, Ginevra. And I believe I know how this is going to end..."
Ginny stared at the door in horror as realisation creeped up on her. Draco was going to barge in just as he had on their failed attempt at a wedding night, and she really did not want that. If that happened then she wouldn't have control of the situation, but the only other alternative was to go back to the bedroom of her own accord. "Bloody insufferable..." she muttered to herself as she forced herself to open the door. "I was not trying to escape you at all," she said tightly, striding past him towards the bed. "Oh! Let go of -!"
Draco had caught her wrist as she walked past him, making her fall back into his body and unexpectedly landing a hard kiss on her parted lips. The surprise of it almost made her forget herself as she was about to relax into him, but then she remembered sharply that she was making a point and that she shouldn't be enjoying this, so Ginny attempted to push herself away from him. "No," he muttered simply, his voice demanding she stay put and his arms sliding around her to keep her firmly in place. "You aren't going anywhere..."
Then he started placing soft kisses on her throat, pulling her ever closer to him until she was pressed hard against his body. "I am not going to bed with you," she insisted, pushing with all her strength on his chest until he forced himself away from her.
He looked at her with that primal glint in his grey eyes and she knew then that was the end. "Who said anything about a bed?" he asked gruffly. Before Ginny could process his words, Draco had already bent slightly and seized her up into his arms, with her legs wrapped around his waist. "Now, don't struggle, I don't want to drop you."
"Put me down, then!" she demanded incredulously as he pressed her against the wall.
"Frankly, that is impossible," he murmured as he carried on kissing her throat and ran his hands up under her cotton nightdress to rest on her hips. Suddenly, his deft hands moved around to grasp her bottom, forcing her closer to him. "No knickers?" He chuckled deeply, nuzzling her neck all the while. "Such a little tease, aren't you, my little red?"
"Stop calling me that!" she hissed, looking down at him, her cheeks burning at his insinuation.
"I will when you stop flushing red," he laughed, instantly taking the opportunity of her bowed head to take her mouth in his. The kiss he gave her was so strong and ardent that she found herself falling into it eagerly, her arms encircling over his shoulders as the space between them was completely filled. It was almost like that night he had taken her for the first time; forgetting everything else except the two of them and the raw sensations building inside. Ginny had known from the moment he looked at her with that gaze that it was over and that he would win, but, shockingly, she didn't mind.
Neither of them spoke a word from that point on, there wasn't any need to. And once they had finished, all that could be heard was the sound of their laboured breathing. Draco carried Ginny back to their bed, both tired but content at the fact their silly little game had come to a pleasurable end.
When Ginny awoke the next morning with weak sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, she saw that Draco was already up and was getting dressed. "Where are you going?" she asked sleepily after seeing him attach a cloak to his dark blue robes.
"To register my father's death," he replied in a casual voice, as though this were an everyday occurrence. He strode over to the bed and bent down to stroke her cheek softly. "I need to go to Gringott's as well, but I should be back for dinner."
"OK," she returned the light goodbye kiss he gave her.
"You may go downstairs whilst I am gone, Ginevra," he said, getting up and making for the door.
Ginny nodded and waited for him to leave before getting out of bed. Once he was gone, she left the comforts of the soft sheets and made her way to the bathroom, where she ran herself a well-deserved hot bath. It had been tiring resisting him and soaking in the soothing water calmed her. Draco really did exhaust her in many ways, but she found it enthralling; Ginny had never experienced anyone quite like him before, someone who could handle her temper, someone who wouldn't give in so easily to her demands, and someone who could make her feel so many emotions in a matter of moments. She wondered how he felt about her, if he did at all, but that would only complicate things later. Not knowing his potential feelings for her made it so much easier to suppress her guilt at wanting to run. In her heart, Ginny knew it was the right thing to do; to leave him for what she believed in was the right thing to do, wasn't it?
Her question unanswered, Ginny finally got out of the bath, dried off and dressed herself. Draco had given his spoken permission to allow her access downstairs without a chaperone, and she wasn't going to pass up that opportunity. She skipped down the staircase, humming a jaunty tune to herself and immediately made her way over to the broom museum, as she had taken to calling it. "Oh," she muttered, disappointed. When she tried the handle, it snapped back sharply.
"Mistress Malfoy?" a small voice said from behind her. "What are you doing?"
Ginny turned to see Misty standing there, a scrubbing brush in her hand. "I wanted to look at the brooms, but it's locked," she replied with a shrug.
"I can only let you in with Master Malfoy's permission," Misty said steadily. Ginny noticed that her usually clear eyes were bloodshot and red, as though she had been crying.
"But, he's dead," Ginny said, bemused, her brow furrowing.
Misty's lip trembled visibly and tears immediately threatened to cascade down her wrinkled face. "I mean M-Master D-Draco, Mistress," the house elf mumbled, her voice breaking. "H-he is m-master of the m-manor, n-now!" Misty began wailing uncontrollably then, her tears overcoming her and soon she had descended into sobbing on the floor.
"Oh, Merlin," Ginny sighed, kneeling beside the crumpled house elf. "It's OK, Draco will be a good master, I promise. He will look after all of you." She patted Misty on the back sympathetically, and stayed with her for a good while until her sobbing had ceased into quiet crying.
"I am s-sorry, Mistress Malfoy," Misty said quietly, finally standing back up.
Ginny smiled reassuringly at the house elf. "Don't worry, it's OK to grieve," she said softly.
"Myself and the other house elves grieve every day beside our Master," Misty said proudly as she wiped a stray tear from her knobbly chin. "We know that this is what Master would have wanted."
"'Beside'?" Ginny asked, puzzled by the statement. "What do you mean?"
"I grieve next to the Master every day," Misty repeated as she controlled her misery. "We must keep him company until he is buried beside the old Mistress Malfoy."
Ginny recoiled in disgust, but thankfully the house elf hadn't noticed her reaction. "His body is still here?" she asked dubiously.
"Of course," Misty replied, eyeing Ginny as though she had miraculously grown another head. "He must lay in state until the burial." The look in her eyes became dreamy as she began to speak about all the details of her late master's funeral arrangements and her hope that Draco would allow the house elves to attend the ceremony, but Ginny's mind began whirring. If Lucius Malfoy was laying in state, then that would mean his wand would be with him; it was custom for the wand to remain with the deceased witch or wizard and for it to be buried with them or cremated, whichever method was chosen.
"Where is he?" Ginny asked abruptly, cutting across Misty's wistful explanations.
"In his chambers, of course," Misty answered matter-of-factly.
"Can I see him?" Ginny asked, putting on her most empathic face.
"Master Malfoy said that you were not allowed in the east wing -."
"Yes, but that was when his father was alive," Ginny interrupted, waving off Misty's reservations. "I only want to pay my respects to my father-in-law, Misty, before the burial. I should like to say goodbye in private, that is all." Ginny looked sadly down at the house elf, trying to be as compassionate as possible.
Misty appeared to be fighting with herself, trying to assess whether or not Ginny was genuine or not. "Mistress, I hope I do not speak out of turn when I say this, but..." she trailed off hesitantly until Ginny encouraged her to continue with a small smile. "But, you and my master did not get on very well, why should you want to see him now?"
Ginny gaped at Misty, her mouth hanging open like a fish. "Well... you see, Misty," a wand suddenly lit up in her head, "I have been without my own father for quite a long time now, and... being able to see Draco's father at peace will allow me to think that way about my own." Misty still looked torn between doing what she knew she shouldn't or doing what she thought was good. "Please, Misty, it would mean so much to me," she pleaded, and it wasn't a lie; it would mean a great deal to her, to be able to pilfer Lucius Malfoy's wand. "Draco doesn't have to know, but I don't think he would mind if I paid my respects."
The jittery house elf was chewing her lower lip. "Alright, Mistress, but we must not say anything about it," Misty finally gave in, looking around furtively and whispering. "We must hurry, follow me." Without further ado, Misty raced off, quicker than Ginny ever thought the house elf would be able to move with such tiny legs. She moved so fast that she even had trouble keeping up with her, and by the end of it, Ginny was uncharacteristically breathless. "Quick, Mistress," the house elf ushered her into the room and kept the door slightly ajar as she kept watch.
Ginny immediately wrinkled her nose at the sickly sweet smell emanating through the deathly quiet room. It smelled of lavender on a summer day, but mixed with the unmistakable scent of decomposing flesh, and it was then that she noticed the lanterns floating halfway in the air giving off a purple-coloured smoke. Ginny presumed the lavender was being burnt to disguise the smell of death, but it wasn't doing very well. She inhaled sharply as she saw the body of Lucius Malfoy lying stiffly on the large four-poster bed with even more lavender surrounding his body; he was even paler than he had been in life and near skeletal already, but Ginny supposed that this was more to do with the illness that had killed him. But, there was the wand; his hands were clasped atop his unmoving chest and his dark wood wand was slipped right in the middle. Her eyes widened and an unbidden smile graced her lips at the sudden thought of wielding power again, of finally being in control. Ginny waited, for what she wasn't really sure, but it was as if this was too good to be true and Draco would appear out of nowhere and curse her into oblivion or the dead body would arise and curse her instead. She couldn't decide which was worse as the thought of Draco made her suddenly feel that this might be the wrong thing to do. Ginny retracted the outstretched hand then as she thought about her husband. The husband she actually hadn't wanted, but ended up falling for all the same.
Ginny gasped and shook her head vigorously. There was no way she had fallen for him; she still loved Harry, in her own way... But, it was then that all she could recall where intense grey eyes looking back at her with an attentiveness she had never experienced with Harry. Harry was a dutiful boyfriend and had obviously been fond of Ginny, but not like this. Not the way she knew Draco was. Yet, she knew Draco never would have looked twice at her if none of this had happened to him and she never would have looked at him in a million years. Still, Ginny hesitated.
Then, a slight movement in the corner of her eye made her jump to face it. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that it was only a small, rectangular photograph on the bedside table, but as she looked closer, she noticed that it was a picture of the Malfoy family in happier times. Both Lucius and Narcissa were watching their young son affectionately, Draco must have been about five or six years of age, and he was being tossed in the air by his father, a look of pure joy evident on his chubby face. They could never have that, not with the way Draco was; so apathetic to the world around him, to anything that didn't affect inside his four walls and her resolve returned with strength. Ginny reached out and plucked the wand from its dead owner and turned towards the door, determination etched into her features.
Ginny inhaled deeply as she reached the bedroom door and calmly opened it. Before Misty could barely turn to look at her, Ginny pointed her wand down at the poor house elf with confidence and muttered "Stupefy!" Harsh red light shone out of the wand and hit Misty square in the chest, upon which she crumpled unceremoniously to the floor. She breathed a sigh of relief and moved Misty to rest against the wall and hoping she would forgive her when she awoke, but she had felt it; there had been a strong resistance to her command from Lucius Malfoy's wand. It had done what she had asked, but it had struggled against her will.
Casting her thoughts aside, Ginny carried on down the hallway quietly, just in case there were any more house elves walking about. Yet, none came and her confidence grew with every step. Once on the stairs, she was practically running at how close she was to escaping. Now, all she needed was something to help her, and she had just the right thing in mind. Ginny looked down at the knobbly wand with uncertainty then, but held it out all the same, aiming towards the door she wished to enter.
"Alohomora!" she whispered.
Nothing happened.
"Alohomora!" Ginny demanded, louder this time.
Again, nothing happened.
Ginny looked down at the wand again, this time in anger. "Alohomora!" she shouted this time. And she smiled as she heard a satisfying click, breathing a sigh of relief as she pushed the handle down and watched the door swing open. There was no time to dawdle, however much she wanted to look at all the brooms on display again. Now was the time to pick the right one. Ginny stepped inside and immediately found the best broom for the job; it was right near the entrance, standing upright, sleek and black with Nimbus 2001 etched into the handle in thin gold lettering. It was the broom Draco had used whilst he was Seeker for Slytherin at Hogwarts, and the charm to make it fly would be the freshest out of all the brooms in the museum; it was most likely the quickest as well.
Without thinking, Ginny reached out and took the broom, as she had taken the wand from Lucius' dead fingers. With both her prizes, she ran from the museum, back up the stairs and into the bedroom. The bed still hadn't been made from earlier and it made her think of Draco; it made her question herself again. But, the photograph of her family on her dressing table, the thing that had made her return to the bedroom, made her steel herself, made her push those thoughts away. She had to do this now, there was no going back. She pulled the photograph from the silver frame and folded it in two to place inside the top of her dress; Ginny did not want to ever forget what they looked like and would never be parted from the memento again.
Self-assuredly, Ginny flung open the balcony doors, mounted the broom and willed it to carry her from the ground. As she felt her feet lift away from the floor, she knew that this was it. Hesitantly, she looked behind her, but remembered Charlie and Fred; if only for them, was she going to do this. No matter how hard this was, their deaths would mean nothing if she continued to live like nothing had changed. This time, Ginny looked forward with purpose and kicked sharply off the ground. At once, she was in the air and the manor drifted away behind her. And this time, she never looked back.
A/N: Please review! And this is just the beginning.
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last update!