A/N: Lalalala. Sorry, if it's a bit late. I have not looked over it, because I couldn't be bothered. Also because I'm now terrified that if I don't update quickly, I will stalked and killed by numerous angry reviewers. You know who you are. Oo

Also, I'm sorry to Neville fans. It had to happen. His heart will break. But it will heal, I promise. I'm NEARLY satisfied with the hearts I've broken so far. Draco, three times. Ginny, once. Neville, once. Ron, once. Who's next?

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

The Stone Speaks

Chapter Fifty: Nightmarish Daydream

DRACO

And then, terrible, and high-pitched, came a sound that all five teenagers knew too well. A scream of absolute terror.

He cast it in a circle, jabbed forwards slightly; then, with an evil, ready-to-burst-into-cackles grin on his ghostly features, he roared, "AVARDA KEDARVA!"

Ginny's eyes widened in fear. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a second scream come out, the green engulfed her.

…

Ron blanched, and started shaking. For want of something to take his mind off of what was happening, Harry turned to Hermione. "How's Hannah Abbott?"

The Head Girl squeezed her eyes closed. "I was trying to forget about that, Harry," she mumbled. When the others only stared blankly at her, she opened her eyes; they were shiny with fresh tears. "She was dead by the time I got to her."

A gasp dragged itself from Luna's mouth. "Poor Neville," she whispered.

Her words struck home to Draco. He imagined - coming back from a terrible battle, blood-stained, exhausted, and despairing by the sights of all the dead. He ran through the castle, looking for Ginny… but where was she? He ran into Hermione. "Where's Ginny?" he asked worriedly. Hermione burst into tears. "Draco, I'm so sorry! S-s-she died."

The nightmarish daydream wrenched at Draco's heart, and he looked up at them all. "Can we move on, now?" he demanded brusquely. "I'm sorry about Abbott, but listen – if we don't get to Ginny… then she'll die, too." He knew that he was being callous to the Hufflepuff's death, but he pushed his guilt aside. "Look, we couldn't do anything about Abbott! She was dead when you got there – but Ginny… Ginny's still alive."

Or so you think.

SHUT UP, Draco screamed inside his head.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. He slid one arm around Hermione's shoulders, gave her a comforting squeeze (for she was still crying about Hannah's death and how Neville would react), and then looked up at Draco, his green eyes showing that he would go to the ends of the earth for his ex-girlfriend, which reassured Draco more than a short hug ever could, coming from Harry. Then, the once-arrogant Gryffindor said, "Where is she?"

His ice-blue flicked over each member of the Hogwarts party, before speaking darkly, "She's in the graveyard."

Ron and Hermione cast a wary glance at Harry, who had sucked in his breath and paled. Why? Then Draco recalled that Harry had met Lord Voldemort in a graveyard – at that time, the Dark Lord rose to power, Cedric Diggory was murdered and Harry himself was nearly killed too.

Harry, however, braced himself, and said, "Which way?"

A high-pitched scream rang out.

GINNY! Draco panicked, and, as a way of replying to Harry, he took off towards where he knew the churchyard to be. Harry, Ron, Luna and Hermione followed in hot pursuit, their feet beating a tattoo on the cobblestones.

Breath racing, rough and ragged, they stampeded around the bend, and through the back streets of Hogsmeade. Finally, through the downpour, the dreary stone church rose up from the fog. And before it, the graveyard.

Sludge rolled in minuscule waves around the tombstones, a combination of mud, rainwater, and what looked menacingly like blood. However, Ginny was nowhere to be seen; nor was Lord Voldemort.

"I – can't – see," moaned Harry, swiping angrily at his fogged-up spectacles.

Hermione took hold of his elbow to calm him, and said soothingly, "Impervius." She cast her wand around at each person's face in turn, finishing with her own. Then, holding her wand high, she uttered, "Lumos," and advanced towards where Draco was standing, at the head of the group, now peering through the rain.

"Can you see her?" she asked concernedly, her lower lip trembling.

Draco shook his head in response, stubbornly refusing to let himself be torn from his scanning of the graveyard.

"Perhaps she's-" Ron suggested helpfully, but was cut off by a loud scream. Draco blanched, and Luna lunged forwards to grab at him and hold him back from storming into the church and probably doing something stupid. Her hands closed on the hood of his battered robe, which he immediately shrugged off and fell into a sprint that lead him winding through the graves.

Now lacking his protective cloak, the rain quickly drenched through Draco's clothing, near-freezing him in the dank February night air. Water ran through platinum hair, gluing it into clammy white strands, as if the rain had leeched it of whatever colour it had ever retained.

He ran forwards, wand clutched in hand, and slammed through the broken doors. They swung with a hideous creak and then crashed into the stone walls, sending rock-dust flying into the damp church atmosphere.

Draco saw the fallen grand piano. Its legs clearly showed use of the Slashing Hex, a Death Eater spell invented by Rodolphus Lestrange. He's here.

The blonde then spied the side-door nearest the destroyed piano – if it could still be called a piano in its new, near-gaseous state – and raced towards it. He could hear pounding footsteps behind him.

Harry hurdling lithely over musical instruments and chairs; Ron smashing through, making a lot of noise and general chaos; Hermione delicately skirting each; Luna weaving through the mess, peculiarly untouched.

Not waiting for them to catch up, Draco slammed into the side-door, scrabbling at it with his hands to wrench it open.

It didn't.

Frustrated and with a growing sense of foreboding, he groped at the door-handle and fumbled with it for a second, breathing hard. Then his eyes widened in horror and fear.

No!

"Alohamora."

Nothing.

"Confringo."

FLAMES – and they hit a Ward.

Draco let out a short, anguished yell of anger; he flew at the door, kicking and kicking and slamming his fists against the wood, rage and despair pulling through every muscle.

A gasp.

"No! Draco, stop it," said a female voice, and arms were winding through his elbows, dragging him backwards, though he was panting and struggling desperately. It was Luna and Hermione, combined to haul him away from the door.

Luna wound her fingers through one of Draco's hands. Ginny does that. He jerked back, tearing his hand from hers, shaking. Hermione gripped his elbow. "Draco – it's alright – what's… what's wrong?" she asked.

Eyes closed. Too much to handle. Couldn't cope if she died a third time.

Harry crossed to the door and looked at it warily. Just then, a scream resounded from inside. Draco's eyes snapped open. He looked around at them all.

Another scream.

"It's… locked."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Ron stood, looking dumfounded. Harry glanced between them all, seeming hard in thought. Luna stared distantly at the ceiling, but Draco knew that she was racking her brain for a way to get through.

"What about 'alohamora'?" she suggested

"There's a Ward on the door," Harry observed, casting a purple jinx at it.

"Is it Black or White?" asked Hermione very suddenly.

Harry shot her an appraising look, as if trying to see if she was serious. Her panic-stricken, tear-tracked face spoke all solemnity, and he considered the door for a second. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't tell them apart."

"Draco?" Hermione turned to him.

"Why me?" Draco suddenly exploded. "Just because I'm a bloody Death Eater doesn't mean I can help us! If I knew how to open it," he spat, malice dripping from every word, "don't you think I would have done it already?"

"Well, I just-" she squeaked.

I LOVE HER – am I really going to let her die?

"This is the girl I am freaking in love with!" he shouted. "Please, just… STOP-"

"Draco, stop!" Hermione shrieked at him. The shrillness of her hysteria silenced him, and he stared down at the bushy-haired brunette expectantly. She took a deep breath. "I'm just saying… you heard what Ginny back on the battlefield. She knows Black magic. What if… what if she put those Wards up?"

No. That's – that's bloody impossible.

"What if she-" Hermione's voice cracked.

DON'T SAY IT.

She inhaled deeply again, and then said fearfully, "what if she's sacrificing herself?"

NO!

"She wouldn't!" cried Draco. "She knows what I'd do if she died – she knows how I feel-"

"But does she?" Luna interrupted. "Did you ever actually tell her you loved her?"

"I JUST SCREAMED IT OUT LOUD, FOR SHIT'S SAKE!" Draco bellowed. "I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU! Just please – please, don't – DON'T YOU DARE-"

He fell silent abruptly.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Luna had all flinched at his hollering, but now they stared openly at his quietness. "What?" asked Ron, following his gaze.

What if…

Draco was staring at the walls of the church. Or, more accurately, something embedded into the wall. "I think…" he said, very slowly, drawing out each word like bubblegum. "I think I have an idea."

A/N: That cliffie sucked. Too bad. Did you like it? Please review and tell me. What could Draco's idea be? Get it right, and I will publish a oneshot about a Harry Potter thing of your choice (character romance, angst, comedy). Luff, Poppop.