A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers!

Chapter 55

I will never be able to forget Draco's face, thought Ginny during the long, long interval before he answered her. The planes of his jaw where the witchlight hit them from the side were exquisite. She itched to draw them. How could he look so completely masculine when he was so beautiful, too?

"I can't," he said.

"You mean that you won't."

His unforgettable face twisted painfully. "I mean that I can't."

"But the facts are still the same. You won't do it."

"No," he said. "I won't."

"Is that what all the other Malfoys said to all the other mistresses?"

His face tightened, and he backed away. She pulled his head to her until their noses almost touched.

"Tell me, Malfoy," she said.

"None of the other mistresses ever expected anything like that," he said between clenched teeth. Something sparked between their mouths. "But you don't know what I've given up. I told you that, Weasley. You don't know what I'll do, what I've done, for the ones that I—" His mouth twisted, as if in awful pain.

"The ones? What do you mean? Which 'ones'? Who are you talking about?"

A thought came to her then. He didn't want to tell me. But he did. And I felt something — She leaned in suddenly and kissed him, feeling everything in her gather up towards the energy of that one kiss. She felt one thought fly from his mind to hers. That was all she could get from him, but she didn't even want to know more.

"'Her and Weasley'," said Ginny. That's what you were thinking, Malfoy; those were your exact words. And her means Astoria. Doesn't it?"

Draco pressed his lips tightly together.

"Oh fuck, you're just going to say that you can't tell me. Never mind. We both know it's true. And you're not going to tell me what you did for her, any more than you're going to tell me what you've done for me. I suppose you've made some sort of arrangement for her too, the other half of the Malfoy mistress contract. Maybe you've even got her to agree with it. Well, I don't really care anymore." She shoved herself up.

"Weasley. Wait. Where are you going?"

"I don't want to play this game anymore," said Ginny, feeling around for her shoes by the side of the bed. She suddenly felt very tired.

"This left off being a game a long time ago. I'm not playing with you now," said Draco. "Come back to me."

Ginny didn't answer right away. She looked around the room, examining it carefully, and she remembered exactly what the corridor outside had looked like when they'd walked through it on their way in. She knew exactly where she had seen it before, and it hadn't only been when she had found Draco and Astoria here. She had run through these corridors and past these doors in May as Lucius Malfoy mocked her in a dream, telling her that he had warped Draco's heart, so that she would find no love there. She had found a very young Draco sitting on a bed in this room, crying, and she had held him and soothed all of his tears away. While she stood with Draco at the top of a tower on the Malfoy lands in another dream, only a few nights later, she had opened his heart, and she had found these rooms there. When she'd got lost in the Bas-Blue gallery on the night of the eighth of June, this was where she'd ended up. She had thought she'd seen Draco there. She supposed now that she would never know what she'd really seen; in any case, he truly did not remember it. But he had been opening the door of this room, and he had tried to take her into it. She had heard the breaking of his heart when she refused to go. No… I only thought I heard it. That was only my imagination. He doesn't have a heart to break.

Ginny finally understood—or at least, she thought she did. It all depended on how deeply you went, and on what your intention was; on whether you opened doors, or shut them, on what you gave, and on what you took. This place could be a heart. Or it could be no more than a set of corridors and rooms in the most exclusive whorehouse in the wizarding world, all belonging to the Malfoys from time out of mind. Whether she had imagined the other Draco who she thought she'd seen that night, or not, she didn't know. But whatever he was, whoever he was, she knew that he wouldn't have made any sort of arrangement, or offered her any kind of contract. He would have simply been hers. He would have left Astoria for her. He would have run away with her and left everything else behind. He would have given her his heart. She didn't know if the real Draco, the one she was looking at, even had a heart to give. If he did, he wasn't offering it to her.

Ginny got off the bed and put on her shoes. Draco was saying something to her; she ignored him. He jumped up and tried to grab her; she avoided him by running towards the door. She swung it open. The doorway had become the portal. She stepped into it, and nothing that Draco did could touch her anymore. She stood there for a little while, feeling the tremendous forces swirling around her. He was yelling quite loudly now and holding his hand out to her, trying to pull her back. Something about please and oh please and don't leave me and come back and don't go and sweetheart.

He still can't call me Ginny, she thought rather objectively. "It's Weasley," she said.

"I'll call you anything you like!"

But you won't, she thought.

"I'm begging you. Weasley. You've driven me to that. See, see what you've done to me? You've made a Malfoy beg."

Is he crying? Ginny cocked her head to see. The room was already starting to fade. No. He isn't.

"Do you hear me? Are you even bothering to listen to me?" demanded Draco. He ran forward, or at least it looked like he was running even though he was standing still and so was she, and he grabbed her hand. His fingers were solid and firm and scorching hot, and her flesh throbbed traitorously, remembering what they had done to her that night, and the pleasure they had brought.

"I'll do anything," he said. "Anything at all."

"Anything?" She looked at him steadily. "Really? Then will you leave Astoria? Because if you will, I'll stay here. Just say you'll do it. Say you'll leave her." Lie, whispered a desperate, awful little voice in her chest, beating against her ribs with frantic wings. I'd even believe a lie, yes, I think I would, maybe I would… not even a very good one, really… Malfoys are liars anyway, so can't you just lie?

Draco's face twisted in agony. "I can't."

She stood in the doorway, only a short distance from him but retreating, retreating, leaving him at a thousand miles a minute even as she stood quite still. "Goodbye, Malfoy," she said. "If you're so determined to stay with Astoria, then she can have you. She can bloody well come to you in Azkaban as well, if you really do ever end up there. The two of you deserve each other."

Then she let go of his hand. The forces swirling round her pulled her away, into the connection portal, and she vanished like a dream at sunrise.

"It is your stupid bloody fault we're here to begin with," said a surly male voice from the darkness.

"You just keep right on telling yourself that, darling," snapped a female voice in return. "Might as well; you've repeated it a good ten thousand times by now."

"I'm supposed to be the bitchy one here," said another voice. "I'm very hurt. The two of you are jointly taking my crown away. My self-esteem is plummeting. I hope you're happy now."

"Shut it, Creevey," the other two voices said in unison.

I've found them! Ginny realized. And they're all right… they're together… but oh, shite, I don't have a good feeling about this… "I'm here," she tried to shout, but her own voice seemed to bounce back at her, as if she were standing behind a glass wall.

"I still think we ought to make a break for it," said Daphne. "It's really our only chance."

Dean snorted. "I should've known better than to ever expect anything better from you. It hasn't occurred to you that Ginny could still be wandering around down here, has it?"

"Ginny Weasley's got out of here by now, of course, because she's got good sense," Daphne said impatiently. "Unlike some people I could name."

Dean snorted. "You've got a point there, all right. If I had any sense, I never would have spoken to you again, Greengrass."

"I might say the same, Thomas."

"If we ever do manage to get out of here, which I'm starting to sincerely doubt, I hope that the two of you simply get a room. I lost patience with all the flirting about three and a half hours ago, approximately thirty seconds after we all ended up trapped together," said Colin.

"If you say one more word, Creevey, I'm leaving," said Daphne. She sounded perilously close to tears. "I'd rather take my chances with being caught by Potter ."

"I think you're right, whether Creevey can keep his mouth shut or not," said Dean, much more quietly. "Not about leaving—I'm not doing that—but about spreading out from here. We've got to find Ginny. We're certainly not doing it by hiding here, and if the Aurors haven't found us by now, I don't think they will."

"I do want to find her, you know," said Daphne. "She's—she's down here because of me. It's true. If she hadn't set Creevey onto following me, she never would have even thought of coming here."

Dean gave a long sigh. "Ginny does what she wants to do. I've tried to stop her many a time, but there comes a point when I can't save her from herself anymore. I suppose I can't really blame you, Greengrass."

"It's all very sweet that you're kissing and making up," said Colin, "but you're not really mad enough to start flouncing about the tunnels when we know perfectly well that the Aurors are prowling here, there, and everywhere, are you?"

Ginny gasped. Oh, fuck!

"We've got to find Ginny," said Dean. "I'll do anything I have to."

"What; do you think I don't care about her?" exclaimed Colin. "I care deeply and truly about Ginny! It's just that I'm well, a bit of a coward sometimes… I'm not entirely sure how I ended up in Gryffindor, really… but if determination alone were enough, I'd do anything to find her!" He threw out his arms dramatically. Ginny winced, because one of them seemed sure to hit her over the head. She tried to step back, but she seemed frozen in place; Colin's arm came closer and closer, and then the glass around her cracked into a thousand pieces, and she staggered out of it.

"Ouch," she said.

"See?" Colin exclaimed joyfully. "It worked."

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Dean. "We've been trapped here for three bloody hours, Ginny, waiting for you! Harry and the Aurors are spread out all over the tunnels. I'm not even sure what they're looking for, but they don't seem to be able to find it; I keep hoping they'll give up and leave. We might have got out, but I wouldn't leave without you. What happened?"

"Uh—it's hard to explain," Ginny said guiltily.

Dean sniffed the air. "Is that chocolate I smell? Where did you get chocolate in the tunnels under St. Mungo's?"

"How about if I tell you a bit later on?" Was Daphne looking at her just a little too knowingly, Ginny wondered?

"Well, it doesn't matter now. Come on, let's get out of here! The way to the right should be clear; I'll show you exactly how to go so they can't possibly catch us. They certainly won't know these tunnels the way I do." Dean grabbed her arm, and they all began to tiptoe away.

"There! There she is. Told you she'd show up, sooner or later." A voice rang down the tunnel, distant but clear and triumphant. "Send him down now. Hurry. I'm not losing them."

"Potter," breathed Daphne. Her face was very white in the faint light. "But how did he suddenly know where we were?"

Ginny's stomach plummeted. She knew.

"Because he's put a Trace on me," she said. Because Malfoy was right. I shouldn't have come back here. I've put them all in danger.

"They're sending an Auror down," said Dean. "Come on. There's no time to lose. And I don't want to hear a bloody word out of you, Creevey; just run!" He shoved Colin roughly ahead of him; Daphne followed them, and Ginny brought up the rear, her heart pounding, each beat a desperate tattoo.