Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all.

Chapter Twenty-One

Magic All In Its Own

Draco could remember when he was younger, sitting on his bed and just waiting for his father to come. When Lucius Malfoy got so furious with his son, he'd send him to his room while he figured out a good enough punishment for whatever he'd done.

So Draco knew what it was like to sit there, waiting with something heavy in the pit of his stomach, the weight of dread and fear that could not surface. He'd often break out into clammy sweat, and each ticking minute seemed like an hour. And sometimes something more important would come up and Lucius would forget. Draco sometimes sat in his room for the entire day.

Remembering one particular time when he'd finally figured it safe enough to lie down, he'd fallen into a fitful asleep. In the middle of the night he'd been shaken violently awake, his eyes flying open to see the terrifying sight of his furious father, pale eyes nearly black in the darkness, lips raised in a snarl.

"Never fall asleep," he had spat in a low, vicious tone, "when you are waiting for something. Never fall asleep in waiting for the enemy. They'll only slaughter you while you slumber. Do you understand, Draco? Don't look at me with those blank eyes, you stupid boy. Answer me! Do you comprehend what I'm telling you?"

Though Draco had only been ten at the time, he had replied in an emotionless voice, "Yes, Father, I understand."

After that he'd had trouble falling asleep even when he wasn't in trouble.

He was used to sitting for hours, just anticipating his father's arrival, and he'd gotten somewhat used to the feeling – the feeling of fear, of helplessness, of being alone. But this time it was different.

As they flew closer and closer to the man who wanted to kill them, that same feeling of utter despair washed over him, numbing him. Only now it seemed ten times worse, because it wasn't his fate that was at stake. He'd take the torture, and most likely live.

But Ginny would be killed.

She wouldn't die because of torture, Draco knew, because she was strong and young. Yet Slytherin would be sure to finish her off with the Killing Curse, for he'd be furious that she still lived after he'd already tried to kill her. Perhaps he would skip the torture part and just murder her – whatever he did, he'd be sure to do it in front of Draco's eyes. And that alone would kill him, because he couldn't imagine living without her.

My father's right, Draco thought angrily. Having feelings for someone does make me weak. When she dies, I won't be able to go on.

How had he become so attached to her? He could care less if his own father died, but if Ginny Weasley died? That'd be the end of him.

It figures, he mused bitterly. The one time I find someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, something has to come and take it away. I guess I'm just not meant to love anyone, am I?

* * *

Ginny knew she looked unusually calm as they landed before Malfoy Manor. Her hands didn't shake as one of Slytherin's men jerked her off the broom and began to push her towards the door. Her bottom lip didn't tremble as she was forced through the entryway, and she noticed that the hexes had been removed for nothing painful erupted in her body. Her step was straight, and she didn't waver while she walked.

Inside, though, she was terrified. Her brain was screaming regrets at her, saying that she should've never left her house, should've left the Slytherin business to the Ministry. It's too late now, she thought, frustrated and feeling helpless. I should've listened to Draco.

She stared at the floor as they walked, the sense of doom rushing over her, numbing her mind into silence. The only sound was the heavy footfalls of the men's boots as they marched Draco and Ginny through the house. One of them had the Blood Skull firmly in his hands; gripping it so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they stopped in front of Lucius Malfoy's study doors. One man stepped forward and pushed them open, shoving Ginny roughly in first. She managed to stop short just in front of the doorway, but that caused Draco to collide into her. After taking a few timid steps forward, she heard the doors slam behind them, and glanced back, noticing that the man who was holding the skull had also entered the room.

Draco caught her eye, and there was a flash of some emotion in his gray eyes. She wasn't sure what it was; it seemed to be a mix of compassion, concern, and fear. But it was gone so quickly she began to think she imagined it, because if Draco was afraid then there was definitely something to be frightened of.

She turned and quickly scanned the room, her eyes falling on Salazar Slytherin sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him. Ginny had to close her gaping mouth hurriedly, because seeing the body of Lucius Malfoy look so sprawled out was surprising.

When Slytherin spotted them, the terrifyingly insane smile on his face broadened. He carefully placed one foot at a time on the floor, unclasped his folded hands, and walked over to the man with the skull.

"Very good," he murmured, the smile somewhat fading, and an odd light replacing the insane look in his eyes. He took the Blood Skull and ran his hands over it, staring at it like it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. And being as old as he was, Ginny wondered how much he had seen.

A moment later, Slytherin seemed to snap out of his daze, looking up sharply at the man. "You may leave," he ordered. "I would like to speak to them alone." His gaze traveled from Draco, to Ginny, then back to Draco.

The man nodded once and left the room, shutting the double doors firmly behind him.

Slytherin crossed to the desk and placed the skull there carefully. While he still admired it, he spoke to them. "I must thank you," he said rather softly, "for getting the skull for me."

"You knew all along," Draco said in a low tone. "You knew the whole time Ginny was alive."

Slytherin finally tore his eyes from the skull and faced them. "Not at first," he said, still speaking in a soft voice. "But then I knew – I have my sources, Draco. I am the most powerful being in the world. Did you think that I would not know if my enemy was dead or not?"

Draco did not reply.

His enemy? Ginny wondered. Honestly, I've never done anything to him. And just because he thinks I'm all powerful doesn't mean I am. Because I would know if I had powers, wouldn't I?

She would've had to know, since powerful people knew when they were. She'd never done exceptional in school, just enough to get good marks that would please her parents. She'd never completed a complicated spell ahead of her classmates, like Hermione often did. She never repeatedly defeated Dark Lords like Harry did. She was never had a natural skill at Quidditch like Ron or any of her brothers did. She was just plain normal – Ginny Weasley, the regular witch.

"You underestimate my powers," Slytherin continued smoothly. "I made Virginia have that dream where she found the map. I managed to plant into her mind that she needed to get the Blood Skull no matter what, and it was just unfortunate that she brought you into this, Draco. I was thinking of allowing you to join me once I eliminated the competition."

"You must really like me," Draco sneered. "Because I keep giving strong signals and signs that I am not going to join you, try to make you furious enough to kill me. And yet you still want me as a sidekick."

Slytherin appeared not to have heard him, because he'd turned back to the skull. "The Ministry thinks they can use this to get rid of me," he scoffed under his breath. "But they didn't anticipate that I'd get it first. Now I can suck the souls out of anyone I want, and no one can stop me."

Ginny felt violently sick, and had to look at the ground. This was all her fault! If only she'd been able to fight whatever thoughts Slytherin had planted in her head . . . another reason why I'm not all high and mighty, she thought. Slytherin is able to make me do what he wants me to do without even using an Unforgivable Curse. Shows how powerful I am.

Slytherin clapped his hands together suddenly, and Ginny jerked her head up to stare at him. He was smiling madly once again, and crossed the room over to where they were standing. "Sit for a moment," he ordered. "I need to think of what to do with you both." He waved his hand, and two high-backed chairs rushed from the middle of the room to behind them. Something forced Ginny down into the chair, and when she glanced over at Draco, she saw the same thing had happened to him.

If he can do that with a wave of his hand, she thought, we're really in trouble.

It felt as if someone was dripping ice water down her spine, trickling into her stomach, but she managed to keep a cool exterior. She didn't know how she did it, considering she was absolutely terrified, unable to think. All she could worry about was her death that seemed inevitable, and what would happen afterwards. Slytherin would just kill more people, and there would be nothing to stop him. It would be like Voldemort all over again; the people living in fear, never able to trust anyone they've just met, or even people they've known their whole lives.

She glanced down at her lap, the tears starting to cloud her vision. Her hands were still bound tightly in front of her, and she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. For a moment she attempted to get the Muggle rope loose, but when it only bit into her skin and hurt, she stopped trying and leaned her head back against the chair, letting out a sigh of defeat.

Draco was watching Slytherin warily. The older man had walked back over to the Blood Skull and was once more examining it, this time with a curious expression. Many moments passed, feeling like hours, stretched out until Ginny felt she would scream if he didn't do anything soon. Finally, with a smug smile, he turned, his black cloak twirling around him, and walked back to where they were sitting.

"I can't have you tied up," he said, and with a snap of his fingers the ropes around their wrists vanished. Ginny rubbed her sore wrists, shooting a look at Draco. She wondered if, since they were untied, they should try and make a run for it. As if reading her mind, Draco shook his head slightly and returned to his attention to Slytherin. He stood there a moment, just smiling satisfactorily at them, before he went on. "I know precisely what I'm going to do with you to. Death would be too simple."

"Far too simple," Draco muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes at Slytherin. Ginny forced herself to swallow, though her mouth was so dry her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, and turned her gaze to him once again.

He appeared not to have heard Draco. His eyes still held that light that terrified Ginny – it was a light she had never seen Voldemort possess. It was the light of insanity, showing that no matter how powerful Slytherin was, he would always be crazy, and always be thirsty for more. He doesn't kill just for the pleasure of it, Ginny realized. He kills because he thinks it'll get him more power.

"So I've decided I'll dispose of you," he said delicately and slowly, "the way you hoped to dispose of me."

He let that information sink in, his smile widening at the look of terror on Ginny's face; the look of shock on Draco's. Ginny could feel all the blood rushing out of her head, and even felt faint for a moment.

He's going to use the Blood Skull on us, she thought, trying to swallow again but not succeeding. She had to close her eyes for the wave of nausea to pass. It will be worse than death – living but without a soul. It'll be just like getting a Dementor's Kiss.

At this, she knew they would have to leave. Even if he had to kill them in the process. Death was better than what was coming to them. Ginny didn't even bother to look over at Draco; she stood up and was about to bolt for the door when some incredible force yanked her right back in the chair.

For a moment, she was too dazed to do anything. When she tried to get up again, she couldn't get to her feet. It was as if her upper body had suddenly gained a thousand pounds and she couldn't lift it.

Slytherin watched her in amusement for a moment, before stating, "You can't leave that chair, you fool. You think I would leave you untied and able to move about?"

Ginny had to look away, defeat washing over her, her thoughts returning to what was about to happen to her. If she hadn't been afraid before, she was now. She'd thought that once she knew her fate it would be easier to handle, but it wasn't. Parts of her were relieved that it wouldn't be painful, but then, who knew if having the soul sucked out was painful or not? Perhaps it was, and she would have to live with the pain forever.

"You don't know how to work the skull," Draco snapped after he managed to find his voice.

"Don't I?" Slytherin shot back, amused. "I can do anything, Draco. How easily you forget that." Ginny watched him with wide eyes as he once more went back to the skull, this time returning with it. Placing it in one hand, he held his other hand, palm down, over it. "Who would like to go first?" he declared cheerfully.

Ginny's eyes whipped over to meet Draco's, but he only held her gaze for an instant. "How could you have gotten the other founders to help give Ginny the map?" he demanded, avoiding the question. "I thought you were the only evil one."

Slytherin's eyes darkened, and his smile slightly wilted. "I take it you are volunteering, Draco," he whispered. His eyelids dropped shut heavily, the hand above the skull beginning to circle above it. With a voice that seemed to come deep within him, he began chanting.

"Hair, fingernails, skin, and bone

Will be left all alone

Once your soul has left you behind

In complete misery and ill of mind

Prepare for it, my friend

It is not easy, but it is the end."

Ginny shot Draco a panicked look, now afraid for him. Once again he met her glance for only a moment, a look of something close to horror on his face, before he turned his focus back to Slytherin, who was still chanting in the deep voice that seemed to fill the room.

"You will still live on

But you're soul will be gone

Using the powers from the skull within

It is your soul that it will win

Prepare for it, my friend

It is not easy, but it is the end."

At this Slytherin opened his eyes, once again glowing insanely, and an evil smile spread over his face. Ginny waited, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would leap up out of her throat, for something to happen.

Then, Slytherin spoke so quietly Ginny didn't hear the words. But she could see what his lips formed, and they formed the words, "Draco Malfoy."

Ginny felt a wrenching somewhere deep inside her, as if someone had jerked her heart cruelly. She knew exactly what would happen even before it did. Everything from then on seemed to go by slowly, in slow motion, as she blinked and turned back to Draco. There was one heartbeat of silence before his mouth dropped open, and he let out the loudest, most despairing scream she'd ever heard and never thought Draco Malfoy could produce.

She struggled to stand up, since she couldn't reach over and hold him, but her body still seemed to weigh too much for her legs to support. Letting out a cry of frustration, she became mesmerized by what was happening to him and was unable to move anymore.

He continued to scream for what seemed like forever, and Ginny wanted to cry, for she could not help him. Oh God, she thought. Oh God this can't be happening . . .

But it was. He was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly he actually tore the fabric with his fingernails. His body convulsed once before something smoky and white floated out of his wide-open mouth. Ginny's hand flew up and clapped over her own lips as she watched it leave his body and float over the carpet, directly towards the Blood Skull.

It's his soul, she thought with horror. Oh God, that's his soul! It's not in him anymore!

She was thankful there was no food in her system, for she would've thrown it up. Her cheeks were wet, though she didn't remember crying despite the tears that still ran down. Horrified, not wanting to watch it but unable to tear her eyes away, she saw the misty white cloud glide to the skull. It gathered around the grinning teeth before in invisible vacuum sucked it up in through the mouth. It all happened so fast, it took Ginny a moment to realize that Draco wasn't screaming anymore – she was. Her hand had dropped back into her lap, away from her mouth.

"Shut up," Slytherin snapped irritably. "Shut up, you stupid girl."

Ginny somehow, with great effort, managed to clamp her mouth shut, biting her lower lip and drawing blood. She couldn't stop crying, though. Turning her watery eyes to Draco, she let out a great sob. He'd collapsed from the chair onto the floor, lying on his side, his fine silvery hair covering his face. Ginny could see his chest moving, showing he was alive.

Slytherin was once again admiring the skull, turning its face towards his and smiling fondly at it like it was some sort of trophy. Ginny fought to stand up, to go over and lay beside Draco, but she still couldn't move. She sobbed in frustration, too broken, too defeated to care how childish she was being.

I was supposed to save him, she thought. He's always saved me, and the one time I was supposed to help him, I didn't. I don't have any powers . . . otherwise, I would've been able to make Slytherin stop from using the skull. I'm useless . . . and now Draco is gone because of it . . .

She'd never felt so terrible in her life. At that moment, she didn't care what Slytherin did to her. Whatever it was she deserved it.

"You're next, Ginny," Slytherin announced, obviously pleased at how upset she was. "Don't worry, your soul with join his in the skull shortly."

"You think you can do this?" Ginny cried in a whisper. "After I'm gone, you think there won't be anyone else who wants to defeat you?"

"There will be plenty," he answered smoothly, "who would like to defeat me. But I'm afraid, my dear Ginny, that you are the only one who can. And two minutes from now, you will no longer be a threat."

Ginny gritted her teeth, tears still streaming down her face, but stared hard at Slytherin with determined eyes. "You're not invincible," she warned softly. "There will be someone to kill you, someone besides me. And I'm just sorry I won't be around to see it."

"You won't be around to see anything!" Slytherin shouted at her, and then laughed. "You'll just be a body, with no soul, for it will be trapped within this wretched skull. I may have others visit you, for I'm sure you and Draco will grow lonely."

He's insane, she thought, not for the first time. He's talking as if we'll be able to communicate in there. What a nutcase.

"Would you like to know something?" he asked, and proceeded without even allowing her time to answer. "I didn't know that the other founders were in your dreams. I didn't arrange that. At first I thought it must mean something, but now I know that nothing, not even you with all your powers, can stop me." He stared at her for the longest time, and she found herself holding her breath. "No more stalling," he suddenly announced grandly. He lifted the Blood Skull in the same position he had it for Draco, holding one hand above it, and started to chant once more.

Ginny's heart thumped, and all her despair washed away into great fear. I'm really going to have my soul sucked out of me, she thought, letting out a strangled sob. The way Draco had reacted - surely it had to be incredibly painful. She looked over at the chair he'd been sitting in, at the claw-like marks his nails had made in the armrests, to his bloody fingernails on hands that lay limply on the ground.

With another sob, Ginny turned her eyes back to Slytherin. He was still chanting, pausing slightly before the second verse. His voice filled her ears, chilling her right down to her bones, freezing her blood but causing her heart to beat faster. She could hear her heart, could feel it in her dry throat, and began breathing quicker. This is it, she thought, the time is coming, I'm really going to loose my soul.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and let out such a loud sob that she missed the wavering in Slytherin's voice. But shortly afterwards he stumbled over the words again, and he couldn't complete the word "friend". Opening her moist eyes slowly, she saw that the hand that had been circling over the skull was now at his neck. He was rubbing it like he was wearing a tie or collar that had been too tight.

"What are you doing?" he rasped at Ginny, then sucked in a great breath hoarsely as if someone was choking him.

What's going on? Ginny wondered, hardly daring to believe her luck. I'm not doing anything!

Slytherin suddenly let out a short shriek, dropping the Blood Skull. It thudded onto the carpet harmlessly and he stumbled backwards, both hands going to his eyes. "Leave me alone!" he cried. "You can't be doing this! Your powers haven't been nurtured yet!"

Ginny watched, too shocked to cry anymore, as he dropped his hands away from his face, moaning in pain. Sucking in a sharp breath, she realized that replacing the usual Malfoy gray eyes there was nothing but empty sockets, and two thin lines of blood dribbling down his cheeks . . .

What happened to his eyes? Oh, God, what's happening? She wiped at her own eyes, trying to get a better vision of what was going on.

"My eyes . . . what have you done with them?" Slytherin groaned, dropping to his knees. He was holding his hands out in front of him like he could see them.

"I'm not . . . I'm not doing anything . . ." Ginny whispered, but he didn't hear her.

Her gaze went to his hair, which was suddenly falling to his shoulders in great clumps. The clumps fell heavily, looking as though they weighed a lot more than normal hair did. Each time they fell, Slytherin let out a whimper as if someone was literally yanking it from his scalp.

"Oh God . . ." Ginny mumbled, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. Once more she didn't want to watch but she couldn't tear her eyes away. It was terrible, but mesmerizing.

His face went white, then took on an odd sheen that didn't have anything to do with perspiration. It looked oily, in fact, like a teenage boy with bad acne would have. Then the skin turned pink, then red, a deeper and darker red until . . .

"Why are you doing this?" Slytherin breathed pitifully.

Dots appeared on his face; dots no larger than a quill tip. But they spread over his skin like a rash, and they turned so red it took Ginny only a minute to realize that they were not dots – they were holes, holes in his skin, and they were oozing blood. They were even on his lips.

Ginny cried out and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth harder, as if trying to keep from vomiting, though there was nothing to vomit. She wanted to look away, needed to look away, but somehow couldn't and kept staring.

I'm going to have nightmares about this for weeks, she thought, horrified, then felt mad for only thinking of herself. Why couldn't this have happened before Draco's soul was sucked out? Why now?

She began to wonder if maybe she was doing it.

But how? She watched as the holes spread over all the visible skin of Lucius Malfoy's body, barely able to keep from sobbing at the horrible sight. I don't know how I'm doing it. As much as I hate Slytherin, I want it to stop. If I'm doing it, then it should stop.

It continued.

Then, Slytherin smiled. With his lips, bright red with blood from the mysterious holes, he smiled almost normally. Ginny froze, her mind blank, waiting for him to appear back to normal, declaring how he beat her powers. But instead he murmured two words.

"You win," he said quietly.

He pitched forward onto his stomach, facedown on the carpet. And he was absolutely still.

Ginny was hardly able to breath, afraid that if she moved, if she inhaled once, that he would jump back to his feet and proceed to use the skull. But several moments passed, blood darkening the carpet underneath his limp body, and still nothing happened.

He's dead, Ginny realized dully. Something killed him.

But was that something her? She couldn't figure it out. If it had been her, that terrified her more than anything else. How could she be capable of such torture, and what was worse was that she had no idea how to control it! What if the same thing happened when she got angry with one of her brothers, or even her mother? How could she live with herself?

Hell, Slytherin was a bad person, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself now knowing what she'd done to him. She wouldn't be charged with murder, for it was out of self-defense, but she'd feel terrible for the rest of her life.

Her eyes traveled over to Draco's body. Placing her hands on the armrests, preparing to propel herself up and out of her seat, she was shocked when she was able to stand with ease. Whatever spell had been confining her to the chair had died along with Slytherin.

On incredibly wobbly legs she stood, though she was trembling far too much to stumble far. She fell to her knees beside Draco, tears dripping off her chin, afraid to touch him. Then she reached out, her hand shaking, and brushed his hair out of his face. His eyes were closed, and he looked as though he was merely sleeping.

She had to cover her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from sobbing like a baby. I should've just let Slytherin take my soul, she thought. It has to be better than living with the fact of what I've done to him, and how I failed Draco . . .

After a moment, she was able to control herself, and opened her eyes. Attempting to wipe them dry, she reached for Draco's hand. It was ice cold, and if not for the rising of his chest she would've just assumed he was dead. He'd be better off if he was, she thought, knowing too well his heart was still pumping, but he couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't feel . . . it was worse than being a human vegetable.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she murmured thickly. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

He slept on peacefully. She sat there and stared at him for a while, not sure what she was waiting for. Maybe she was hoping that he would wake up. But he didn't, and the realization that she would never be able to see him again tore through her body like a knife, sending cold shivers down her spine and causing more tears to spill over.

"Virginia . . ."

She looked up sharply, whipping her head around, terrified that Slytherin had gotten up. The voice was far gentler and softer, though, than his had been, and when she looked over she found that he was still face-down on the carpet, his robes soaked with crimson, a pool of blood around his head. He's not going to wake up ever again, she realized, and then searched for the source that had said her name.

Warmth spread through her body when she saw it – just a white shape, hovering above the desk. It was a ghost of a person, a woman in her thirties, perhaps forties, with a pretty face and a small smile. She had raven colored hair and startling blue eyes, but all else was pale and misty without color.

"Virginia," she said again, widening her gentle smile. "Stand up and come to me."

Ginny found herself rising to her feet, too stunned to wipe her cheeks dry, and walked so dazedly to the desk that she barely felt her feet hitting the floor. The entire trauma that she'd just been through washed from her mind and it was left blissfully blank, as though she were dreaming.

"You love him, don't you?" the woman asked, nodding towards Draco.

Ginny didn't even have to turn around to know whom she was referring to; without tearing her eyes off the girl before her, she nodded.

"There is a way," she said, barely above a whisper, "to bring his soul back. You have that power, Virginia. It just needs to be guided."

"I killed Slytherin," Ginny breathed throatily. "My powers are too dangerous for me to control."

The woman's face softened sympathetically. "You did not kill him," she said quietly. "He did not sign the parchment. Besides, he was already dead."

Parchment? Ginny thought vaguely, but immediately forgot about it as the ghost proceeded.

"Do you know who I am?" she inquired.

Ginny started to shake her head, but stopped, realizing that she did know who it was. "Rowena Ravenclaw," she said, barely audible. Yet Rowena heard and smile again, nodding.

"I have a gift for you, Virginia," Rowena announced. She reached into her robes and pulled out something solid in color, something long and thin and made of dark sleek wood. Ginny studied it for a moment before figuring it was a wand, and it was clearly made of matter, unlike the ghost. "It will take training, but you will learn to use your powers that you have been blessed with."

"I don't want to," Ginny protested silently.

"You will," Rowena promised, smiling widely. "It will bring back your love."

Ginny was afraid to raise her hopes. "But it'll take training," she insisted. "Draco will be without a soul for . . . for who knows how long."

Rowena's smile turned wistful. "Love," she began dreamily. "Love is an odd thing. A very special thing, but different nonetheless. Love can cause death, can drive someone to murder or take his or her own life. Love can cause bitter unhappiness, but it can also bring great joy. It seems to be the only good thing left in a world of terror and fear and depression. Yet it is very hard to acquire, and those who are fortunate enough to love, or to be loved, must cherish, care for it like an expensive jewel. That's what love is, Virginia, a jewel. So rare and precious, for true love is hard to come by. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Ginny hesitated. She knew what she was saying, but what did it have to do with Draco? True, she loved him, but how would it bring him back without training? After a moment, she said carefully, "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"You love Draco," Rowena stated. "Everyone, including yourself, would never have believed it a year ago, or even a few months ago. You two despised each other, and yet in such a short time, you've managed to develop such a powerful love, such strong feelings, that it's virtually impossible to destroy. Even death couldn't stop it. Even the losing of one's soul could not put out the flame that joins you both."

How does she know so much? Ginny wondered, amazed.

"Love is magic all in its own. And you possess such a love, Ginny," Rowena pointed out, using Ginny's nickname so casually she nearly missed it, "that you will know precisely what to do, with aid of this wand. Just listen to your mind and your heart and you'll manage to achieve what no regular witch or wizard could."

She held out her hand with the wand then, and Ginny stared up at her face, unsure of what to do. She wants me to take it, she figured after a moment, and almost awkwardly reached up to take it. Her fingers paused before grasping it, though, and Rowena smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Ginny, her mouth set in a straight line, grabbed the wand firmly. Rowena released it.

It felt wonderful in Ginny's hand – just like a brand new broomstick would. It was smoothly polished, a dark brown wood, slightly longer than her normal wand. While she stared at it in awe, Rowena spoke once more.

"You have a unique power, Virginia. Use it wisely, and don't take it for granted."

Ginny looked up, opening her mouth to ask just how she was supposed to get Draco's soul from the skull back into his body, and saw that Rowena was fading. "No!" Ginny cried. "No wait –"

In an instant the ghost of Rowena Ravenclaw was gone, leaving Ginny alone and cold once more. Ginny panicked slightly, for she had no idea what to do, before ordering herself to calm down.

She said you'd know what to do, she directed herself. And she's probably right. You just need to relax.

She turned and walked back over to where Draco lie, Slytherin not too far off to the side, and the sight of him nearly sent her into hysterics. Swallowing her tears, she tried to clear her mind and retrieved the Blood Skull from where it'd been dropped.

For a moment, she stared at it, as if trying to see Draco's soul in it. But it remained the same as always, staring with its dark eye sockets, mocking her with its evil and knowing grin. Ginny took a deep breath and balanced it on one hand like Slytherin had done, the other hand firmly wrapped around her new wand.

Just think, she thought. Think of a spell . . . Rowena was right about our love, she has to be right about knowing the spell.

Her eyes slid shut as she tried to muse deeply. Several times, she panicked. What am I going to do with Draco's body if this doesn't work? What will my family say when they find out how I killed Slytherin? Did I even kill him in the first place? After struggling to get her mind blank many times, she finally achieved it and began to think.

And then, a simple spell popped into her head, so simply it was like common knowledge and she'd known it her whole life. Without thinking twice about how quickly it got into her memory, she opened her mouth and began to recite it in a clear, unwavering tone.

"For the soul this crystal has most recently taken

Reverse it back, for it is mistaken."

Her eyes flew open. She was shocked at how easily the words had poured from her tongue. Then, she sucked in a breath and waited for the white mist that had left Draco return to him. Several minutes went by, uneventful, and Ginny's stomach dropped with utter disappointment with every passing second.

I've done it wrong, she thought, her chin trembling as she fought back tears. Either that or I'm not the power that everyone thinks I am . . .

No sooner had she said this in her head did a bit of cloudy whiteness leak out of the skull's teeth. Ginny's heart rose into her throat and she stared, too afraid to believe it true, as it emptied out of the Blood Skull and glided down to Draco's body.

Ginny was too frightened to move, worried she might somehow break the spell. The mist hovered about Draco's head, before thinning out as it was sucked up through his nostrils. There were several moments of complete silence, where the world seemed to have stopped, and even the ticking of the annoying grandfather clock in the corner appeared to have quieted.

And then Draco coughed shortly, rolling from his side onto his back.

Ginny broke out into a wide smile, dropping the skull to the ground and rushing to his side. "Draco?" she asked, happy tears blocking her vision. "Draco, are you okay?"

With her free hand she brushed the hair out of his eyes, then helped him into a sitting position. He seemed dazed, his gray eyes glazed and blank, as he looked from her to the room, then finally resting on Slytherin. Then they darkened with remembrance as he stared at the dead body of his father, before he glanced at her with concern that was so unlike him.

"What happened?" he asked, grasping her upper arms. "Are you all right? He didn't use the skull on you, did he?"

Ginny shook her head, unable to stop smiling. "He used it on you, not me."

And as hurriedly as she could she explained what happened after his soul was taken. He listened without interrupting, allowing his emotion to show on his face. Finally, Ginny thought, he's taken the mask off.

"So how did Slytherin die like that?" Draco asked. "You didn't do it, did you?"

Ginny shrugged, her smile fading somewhat. "Rowena told me it wasn't my fault. She said he was already dead, and that he hadn't signed the parchment."

Draco looked puzzled for a moment before it dawned on him. "Oh, that map. Remember? We signed it and it said that if anyone else besides us use the skull than they'd die a painful death or something along those lines."

Ginny nodded. "I remember now. God, Draco, do you realize how lucky we are?"

Draco studied her for a moment, then stood up, letting out a groan as he straightened. He held out his hand to help her to her feet, and she stood beside him. "I have a feeling," he began slowly, "that we'll be even luckier once we get home."

Ginny glanced over at Slytherin's body. "We'll have to get the Ministry here first, though. And then there are still Slytherin's men in the house."

"We'll manage to avoid them," Draco said confidently. "I grew up in this house; I know every passage."

Ginny smiled weakly. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," he said, waving her off. "It just feels like I woke up from a deep sleep."

"What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"You know. Not having a soul."

"It was . . . I'm not sure how to describe it," he said helplessly. "It guess it was the feeling of hopelessness that got to me, knowing that I'd never be able to move on my own or speak on my own. I was just feeling sorry for myself, mostly. The worst part was losing my soul because it hurt."

Ginny gave him an understanding look. "I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping up to him and hugging him tightly. "But it won't ever happen again, okay?"

He laughed hollowly. "If you say so, Weasley."

She looked at his face, grinning. "Don't call me Weasley, Malfoy," she whispered before pressing her lips over his.

* * *

A/N: This is not the end! There's one more chapter where everything gets settled. And I haven't forgotten about Harry . . . Ginny's just been a bit preoccupied and hasn't had time to think about him.

Thanks to: Christine (as always, of course. And I agree about that Oscar thing . . .), Zoemma, audig, MG, summer_thyme, w&m_law (thanks, Amy ;)), Dot, Archer (get over your writer's block quick! I want more Catenatus! Also, I hope to answer everything in the next chapter if they weren't answered here), Starlight (I think that's all I'm going to write to Slytherin Meets Gryffindor, but thanks anyway), P*A*Trisha (that's true, but Dara isn't a witch, she's a nymph :^D), sOmEoNeSpEcIaL, silverarrows*** (I agree, gluing your eyes to the screen might not feel too good, hee . . .), Cithara, and sassy aka Draco's Lil Angel.