Legend
Chapter XXVIII: Spy Game
By Marie McKinnon
For the few days before the end of term Ginny put her nose to the grindstone. Not to bring her marks up, which wasn't needed, but to manufacture a surplus of sheer magical blades. She sat at a roughly hewn table in their practise area, studying "Defenses of Style," a book that taught how to make weapons, especially swords and daggers. The razor sharp edge was manufactured, at least by Ginny, with strength of will and the shaving away of tiny particles. Every day without fail she could be found at the table, mentally suspending a solid block of glittering magic and honing it to a perfect edge. Her mind slipped into a trance of deep concentration when she envisioned the blade, perfectly balanced, slicing through a spell. She went into an even deeper level of concentration as she skillfully shaped it.
"Hey, Ginny, d'you think I should--" Harry began to ask.
His fencing tutor rolled his eyes. "She can't hear you, Potter. Don't even try."
"What's she doing, anyway?" He demanded irritably, rubbed the wrong way by Draco's condescending tone of voice. "Oi, GIN--"
His call was cut off by a silencing spell. "Ginny is making daggers of pure magic. Instead of shattering armor or other weapons, they shatter spells, and they're ruddy *dangerous,* not to be tampered with and whatnot, so distracting her whilst she has one of these things in her control is not a wise move. Understood?"
Harry nodded, and the spell was removed. "Sorry."
"Good. Now repeat that drill, you're leaning to one side like you're going to fall."
*
Ginny stayed away from the end-of-year feast. She didn't want to be reminded of her roommates, especially not by Dumbledore, who had provided little, if any, comfort during her times of trial. Nothing would get her into the Great Hall, not even Draco's wheedling. She loved him dearly, but there was nothing he could do to budge her. Right at the moment when she was sure Dumbledore would be toasting the fallen Gryffindors, her favorite Slytherin appeared with her on top of the Astronomy Tower to watch the sun slip under the horizon.
"I thought I'd come see if you wanted company," he explained quietly as he rested his hands on the cold stone.
Ginny lifted her head and smiled weakly. "Thank you. I didn't, really, but I'm glad you came." She seemed unusually pale, though there were healthy flushes of colour in her cheeks. Elbows propped on the wall, he studied her profile. The sun's rays blended with her hair, making it more vivid and brilliant than usual. Her smooth forehead faded into a slightly snubbed nose, which was held upward with great confidence. A pleasant mouth lay under the snub nose, rose pink and, as Draco knew very well, softer than anything. His arm slid around her waist and rested there comfortably. It fit perfectly, balanced between her ribcage and hips.
"Your hair," he whispered into her ear.
Ginny's eyes flicked open and shut several times before she felt awake enough to say something audible. "Mmm-hmm?"
A strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and hung across her cheek, a lovely corkscrew curl out of place against her smooth skin. Draco gently brushed it back behind her ear, only to see it flutter out again.
"Stubborn, aren't you?" He asked quietly. "We'll just have to do something about that." Instead of attempting to stick the resilient curl behind Ginny's ear, he untied her ponytail holder and watched the windswept curls tumble down. She finger combed it for a minute or so to make it light flat, then turned to her boyfriend. His eyes lit up at the frame her curls made around her face, a little wild, but also refined and elegant. "Why don't you ever let anyone see your hair down? It's beautiful."
"Have you any idea," she asked, wrestling her long hair into a messy bun, "how difficult it is to deal with this tangle? Mum complains about it constantly, so I promised her I'd wear it down at my wedding. If I never get married, I hope she's happy."
Amused, he smiled at her lopsidedly, trying to get over the mental block he had where marriage was concerned. "I get the hint. It's all about marriage, isn't it? That must be a major milestone in your family if you think of it like that."
She nodded, staring out over the grounds. "You know, the sun's gone down, and everyone is going to start getting suspicious, especially since this is the Astronomy Tower." Her voice trailed off.
"Let them be suspicious. I'm watching the stars with my girl."
"Oh, the invisible one?" Ginny asked. "I'm going in. Even in summer it's too chilly up here for me."
He stopped her by the stairs, grinning devilishly, and kissed her thoroughly. "Give them something to be suspicious about."
"I'm sorry, I really can't do this now. I have to go think -- oh, hello, Thomas," she said pleasantly. "What brings you up here?" Still holding her loosely, Draco felt her muscles tense.
"I wondered where my friend was, is all. You missed the end of the feast. We won, after Potter lost all those points for fighting." His smile seemed rather fixed, as though he were trying to seem pleased.
Understanding that her presence wasn't needed, she slipped out between them, giving her boyfriend a parting wink. ~If he asks about me, tell him I've been severely unhinged by my friends' deaths. It'll put him off for a bit,~ she added mentally.
Watching the bobbing head disappear down the spiral staircase, Nott moved on to another topic of conversation. "Is she all right?"
"She's still very upset. It was an awful tragedy, and to be the one to find the bodies really frightened her. She won't be back to normal for a very long time, I don't think."
"Oh." He stored the information away for later, then added "That's too bad. She was such an overpowering force that something seems to be missing, you know?"
Looking bemused, Draco asked "How so?"
Nott shrugged. "Personality-wise. You could always tell she was there. Curfew, though, we'd best get back."
His companion nodded and descended rapidly, mind whirling with questions about the relevancy of their conversation and feeling as though he'd been lapped.
*
Cloaked, long black robes sighing on the wooden floor, a small figure walked deliberately to a shadowy throne. Skeletally thin, a man rose from the ebony throne, gleaming eyes penetrating the absolute darkness. He gestured to the steps leading to his elaborate seat.
Removing his hood, the smaller figure knelt on the steps, head bowed. "Master," he breathed, "I bring information."
"Speak." The voice was nearly a hiss, gliding out over the empty room.
"Virginia Weasley is weak from emotion. She will be easy to break, especially with another death."
"Excellent," Voldemort said, almost smiling. "I suggest a family member be the next victim. Perhaps the one working in the Ministry, to give it an added motive."
Thomas shuffled out backwards, still hunched over in a humble bow. "Nott, from whom did you get such information?" The hiss was audible even from the other side of the room. Its high-pitched coldness sent prickles down his spine, but he responded.
"Draco Malfoy, Master, Virginia Weasley's boyfriend."
"Do not underestimate him, Nott," Voldemort advised. "He's as slippery as his father."
With a reverent "Yes, Master," the disciple backed away and crumpled into an exhausted heap, completely drained by the powerful energy loose in his Lord's chambers.
For the few days before the end of term Ginny put her nose to the grindstone. Not to bring her marks up, which wasn't needed, but to manufacture a surplus of sheer magical blades. She sat at a roughly hewn table in their practise area, studying "Defenses of Style," a book that taught how to make weapons, especially swords and daggers. The razor sharp edge was manufactured, at least by Ginny, with strength of will and the shaving away of tiny particles. Every day without fail she could be found at the table, mentally suspending a solid block of glittering magic and honing it to a perfect edge. Her mind slipped into a trance of deep concentration when she envisioned the blade, perfectly balanced, slicing through a spell. She went into an even deeper level of concentration as she skillfully shaped it.
"Hey, Ginny, d'you think I should--" Harry began to ask.
His fencing tutor rolled his eyes. "She can't hear you, Potter. Don't even try."
"What's she doing, anyway?" He demanded irritably, rubbed the wrong way by Draco's condescending tone of voice. "Oi, GIN--"
His call was cut off by a silencing spell. "Ginny is making daggers of pure magic. Instead of shattering armor or other weapons, they shatter spells, and they're ruddy *dangerous,* not to be tampered with and whatnot, so distracting her whilst she has one of these things in her control is not a wise move. Understood?"
Harry nodded, and the spell was removed. "Sorry."
"Good. Now repeat that drill, you're leaning to one side like you're going to fall."
*
Ginny stayed away from the end-of-year feast. She didn't want to be reminded of her roommates, especially not by Dumbledore, who had provided little, if any, comfort during her times of trial. Nothing would get her into the Great Hall, not even Draco's wheedling. She loved him dearly, but there was nothing he could do to budge her. Right at the moment when she was sure Dumbledore would be toasting the fallen Gryffindors, her favorite Slytherin appeared with her on top of the Astronomy Tower to watch the sun slip under the horizon.
"I thought I'd come see if you wanted company," he explained quietly as he rested his hands on the cold stone.
Ginny lifted her head and smiled weakly. "Thank you. I didn't, really, but I'm glad you came." She seemed unusually pale, though there were healthy flushes of colour in her cheeks. Elbows propped on the wall, he studied her profile. The sun's rays blended with her hair, making it more vivid and brilliant than usual. Her smooth forehead faded into a slightly snubbed nose, which was held upward with great confidence. A pleasant mouth lay under the snub nose, rose pink and, as Draco knew very well, softer than anything. His arm slid around her waist and rested there comfortably. It fit perfectly, balanced between her ribcage and hips.
"Your hair," he whispered into her ear.
Ginny's eyes flicked open and shut several times before she felt awake enough to say something audible. "Mmm-hmm?"
A strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and hung across her cheek, a lovely corkscrew curl out of place against her smooth skin. Draco gently brushed it back behind her ear, only to see it flutter out again.
"Stubborn, aren't you?" He asked quietly. "We'll just have to do something about that." Instead of attempting to stick the resilient curl behind Ginny's ear, he untied her ponytail holder and watched the windswept curls tumble down. She finger combed it for a minute or so to make it light flat, then turned to her boyfriend. His eyes lit up at the frame her curls made around her face, a little wild, but also refined and elegant. "Why don't you ever let anyone see your hair down? It's beautiful."
"Have you any idea," she asked, wrestling her long hair into a messy bun, "how difficult it is to deal with this tangle? Mum complains about it constantly, so I promised her I'd wear it down at my wedding. If I never get married, I hope she's happy."
Amused, he smiled at her lopsidedly, trying to get over the mental block he had where marriage was concerned. "I get the hint. It's all about marriage, isn't it? That must be a major milestone in your family if you think of it like that."
She nodded, staring out over the grounds. "You know, the sun's gone down, and everyone is going to start getting suspicious, especially since this is the Astronomy Tower." Her voice trailed off.
"Let them be suspicious. I'm watching the stars with my girl."
"Oh, the invisible one?" Ginny asked. "I'm going in. Even in summer it's too chilly up here for me."
He stopped her by the stairs, grinning devilishly, and kissed her thoroughly. "Give them something to be suspicious about."
"I'm sorry, I really can't do this now. I have to go think -- oh, hello, Thomas," she said pleasantly. "What brings you up here?" Still holding her loosely, Draco felt her muscles tense.
"I wondered where my friend was, is all. You missed the end of the feast. We won, after Potter lost all those points for fighting." His smile seemed rather fixed, as though he were trying to seem pleased.
Understanding that her presence wasn't needed, she slipped out between them, giving her boyfriend a parting wink. ~If he asks about me, tell him I've been severely unhinged by my friends' deaths. It'll put him off for a bit,~ she added mentally.
Watching the bobbing head disappear down the spiral staircase, Nott moved on to another topic of conversation. "Is she all right?"
"She's still very upset. It was an awful tragedy, and to be the one to find the bodies really frightened her. She won't be back to normal for a very long time, I don't think."
"Oh." He stored the information away for later, then added "That's too bad. She was such an overpowering force that something seems to be missing, you know?"
Looking bemused, Draco asked "How so?"
Nott shrugged. "Personality-wise. You could always tell she was there. Curfew, though, we'd best get back."
His companion nodded and descended rapidly, mind whirling with questions about the relevancy of their conversation and feeling as though he'd been lapped.
*
Cloaked, long black robes sighing on the wooden floor, a small figure walked deliberately to a shadowy throne. Skeletally thin, a man rose from the ebony throne, gleaming eyes penetrating the absolute darkness. He gestured to the steps leading to his elaborate seat.
Removing his hood, the smaller figure knelt on the steps, head bowed. "Master," he breathed, "I bring information."
"Speak." The voice was nearly a hiss, gliding out over the empty room.
"Virginia Weasley is weak from emotion. She will be easy to break, especially with another death."
"Excellent," Voldemort said, almost smiling. "I suggest a family member be the next victim. Perhaps the one working in the Ministry, to give it an added motive."
Thomas shuffled out backwards, still hunched over in a humble bow. "Nott, from whom did you get such information?" The hiss was audible even from the other side of the room. Its high-pitched coldness sent prickles down his spine, but he responded.
"Draco Malfoy, Master, Virginia Weasley's boyfriend."
"Do not underestimate him, Nott," Voldemort advised. "He's as slippery as his father."
With a reverent "Yes, Master," the disciple backed away and crumpled into an exhausted heap, completely drained by the powerful energy loose in his Lord's chambers.