CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The Choice Ginny Made
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"What?" Fred looked confused, and then he laughed. "This is perfect, Malfoy! Even the house doesn't like you!"
But Draco did not care what Fred Weasley said. He kept watching Molly Weasley's unsurprised eyes.
"Fred—that's enough!" Ron said sharply.
"It's enough, all right. It couldn't be better. Now we don't need to deal with Malfoy at dinner at all. I take back everything nasty I ever said about this drafty old heap of a house. You all right, Gin?" He was helping his sister to her feet, Cho on her other side.
"Yes, I'm fine. Draco…" Ginny reached out a hand through the space between them and took his fingers. But when she tried to pull him through, the invisible wall snapped up again, sparking painfully. She winced, but she did not drop his hand. He looked at her mother again.
Molly Weasley is relieved, he thought. Perhaps she wasn't sure that this wall would keep me out, but she knew it might, and she hoped that it would.
"Be quiet, Fred," said Molly. She turned to Draco and gave him a tight, triumphant smile. "I'm terribly sorry, Draco. I'm not quite sure what has happened. But it seems as if a barrier has sprung up."
"Why has this happened, Molly?" Arthur quietly asked his wife. He doesn't seem entirely surprised either, Draco realized.
She shrugged. "It's impossible to say. These old houses can be so odd… my great-grandfather assisted in building the Burrow originally, did you know that? No? Well, he became quite eccentric about that same time, and goodness knows what strange features he may have added." She turned to Ginny, who had taken out her wand and was now trying various Opening spells on the wall, all without success.
"I don't believe there's anything to be done about it just now," said Molly.
Ginny's brows snapped together. "Mum, what on earth are you talking about? I'm not going to leave Draco standing out in the corridor!"
"Of course not," said Molly. "Perhaps he could return home, to the Manor."
"That's the best idea I've heard all day," put in Fred.
Ron looked uncertain, glancing back and forth between Fred and Ginny's faces.
"The two of you can see each other tomorrow, Ginny,' said Molly, continuing to smile. Draco knew that her pleasant façade was just barely under control. Something was lurking beneath the surface, and it would take very little to trigger a breakthrough.
"Molly, you're being ridiculous," Arthur said in an undertone.
"Oh? Am I?" She took another long drink of eggnog. "I don't think so. No, I don't think so at all. Perhaps this is for the best."
"That's unfair," he said quietly.
She looked up at her husband, and the façade seemed about to crack. "You don't know anything about it," she said.
"I know that Draco is not his father, nor his grandfather," he replied.
"No. You simply don't know what you're talking about, Arthur."
Ginny groaned. "Oh, Mum… what on earth is this all about?"
"That's exactly what I mean. You don't know, either," Molly said steadily to her daughter. "No-one else does. The things I could tell you about the Malfoys… oh, you have no idea."
"But you're not actually going to tell me anything, are you." Ginny's words to her mother were a statement, not a question.
"Hey, what's going on here?" demanded Ron.
"Some horrible secret about that evil family, I'm sure. Why am I not surprised?" Fred snickered.
"You need to trust me," Molly said to Ginny. "And you need to come into the dining room with your family."
Standing at the edge of the barrier, a foot on each side of it, Molly reached her hand out to Ginny, who said nothing. She would need to drop Draco's hand in order to take it, which she did not do. But she did nothing else, either.
Ginny was not going to defend him. She was not going to do anything for him, or with him. Instead, she would do as her mother wished. In that moment, Draco was sure of it. Ginny would sigh, and look sad, and walk into the dining room with her family, leaving him on the other side of the barrier. His horrible fantasies started to spin out of control. She wouldn't return his owls. She wouldn't answer the door when he knocked. He would finally force himself to use a Muggle self one, or whatever they were called, in a desperate attempt to reach her, but it would do no good. She would ignore him. Then, she would doubtless do her best to put him out of her mind, or to think of him only as a mistake.
True, Ginny might never be able to really forget him, but only because he was the man he had chosen as her first lover. She never would have waited until the age of nearly nineteen to do that unless physical intimacy meant something to her. But Draco Malfoy would be no more than a bittersweet memory, at best, whenever she bothered to spare him a thought.
No, he thought. That can't be true. I've got to stop thinking this way; I can't let these terrible ideas take over my mind… Ginny would never behave that way towards me, never… or would she…
"Take my hand, Ginny," said Molly.
Ginny was shaking her head minutely, chewing at her lower lip, and her hand trembled in his. Her fingers seemed to be disengaging themselves, slipping away, moving towards her mother.
Draco felt his back stiffen. It's true, he thought. It's all true. Ginny really is going to take her mother's hand, she's going to leave me here, and then she will never speak to me again. It's all one to me. To hell with this cold bitch. I don't need her; I don't need anyone.
For an instant, he was possessed by a roaring cold rage, and he felt the essence of the cruel, arrogant, insecure boy he had once been flood all through him. For that one moment, his heart was as dark and twisted as it had ever been. He was the twelve-year-old snob who had hurled insults as Ginny Weasley passionately defended Harry Potter, and who later said that he hoped that the basilisk killed Hermione Granger. He was the sixteen-year-old who had been proud to receive the Dark Mark burned into his flesh. That boy had cared about Ginny Weasley, yes, but not for any noble reason, to say the least. He tried never to think about that time, now that he and Ginny were together, whatever that togetherness might mean, but the memories threatened to flood his mind. He struggled to keep them back. Now is not the time! I won't show weakness. Even if they throw me out into the snow, I will behave as a Malfoy should, and long past time for that, too. I ought to have known better than to ever come here. For a fleeting instant, he even wished that he knew how to summon Orion, the Malfoy dragon. If there were only some way to make sure he attacked everyone except for Ginny…
Then Ginny squeezed his hand firmly, interlacing her fingers with his as if turning a key in a lock. He jumped at the sensation, his mind reeling.
"No. If Draco can't come in to eat dinner with us, then I'll leave as well," she said calmly. "Goodbye, Mum."
"You—what? What on earth are you talking about?" Her mother looked at her blankly.
"If he can't go into the dining room, then neither will I," said Ginny.
"You can't possibly mean that you're going to leave with him!"
"That's just what I mean," said Ginny, stepping through the invisible wall to stand at Draco's side.
"But there's nothing to keep you from seeing him tomorrow. For tonight, you'll simply eat with us."
Ginny shook her head.
Molly drained her glass. "Don't you dare ruin Yule dinner, Ginevra! I will not tolerate- "
"Mum, I really think you've had enough eggnog." Ginny reached her other hand out.
Molly snatched her own hand away. "No. No. Get into this dining room, now." Her eyes blazed fiercely, anger clearly bubbling just beneath the surface and barely held in check.
"Finally!" exclaimed George's voice from the hall. "I can't believe we both got stuck under the Hiding mints. I couldn't even hear anything for at least ten minutes- I really need to work out a few bugs before we start selling those things in the shop." He strode towards them with a huge smile.
Even through the warmth radiating from Ginny's hand, the incredulous joy that she had chosen him, that she was standing by him, the proof that he must matter to her, Draco still felt a chill. Oh, this will not go well.
"Mum, I want you to meet my girlfriend," he announced, holding Pansy's hand. "Well, you know her, but you haven't exactly met her before. Pansy Parkinson. Uh, remember Pansy?"
At the look in Molly Weasley's eyes, Draco had no doubt at all that she did.
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