A/N: Two more chapters left! The last probably won't be posted on the 22nd, because I'll be busy moving, but it will come shortly after that. Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! Sorry for scaring some of you with possible D/G. Ginny and Harry would both torture, maim, and kill me!
Chapter Twelve
"Weasley War"
"Here, this should calm you down, Weasley."
Ron jerked and blinked his eyes. He'd been staring down at the map of Malfoy Manor, watching as the small orange dots of the Order of the Phoenix members appeared five miles from where his sister was held prisoner.
Leaning an elbow across the table, his one arm extended, Edgar Sotter held a pipe in his grubby hand. Ron stared at it uncomprehendingly, and then stared at Edgar's grin, quite sure the man was mad. Behind Edgar, Mundungus Fletcher chuckled.
"Eddie, I don't think the lad's had much tobacco," said Mundungus, taking a drink from his tankard.
"Why not? Puts hair on your chest." Shrugging, Edgar stuck the proffered pipe into the corner of his mouth and turned his head to the other wall, where Harry was pacing and rolling his wand between his fingers. "Wish the cat lady hadn't made us swear we wouldn't influence them any," he said mournfully.
Ron heard Hermione's tut tut, but he couldn't look away from the map laid out on the table. Ever since Fawkes had transported them to the small shack at the edge of the village of Wedgrass, Ron had been unable to speak or do anything other than watch the map. Wedgrass was a half wizarding, half Muggle community twenty miles from Malfoy Manor. The shack was no more than a feed shed behind the renovated livery stable that was now a grocer's. Below the shack, however, was a small but efficient rendezvous for the Order. It housed a single area for meetings, with a small off-set space for any member needing to bunk down for a day or two. All in all, it could uncomfortably squeeze about twenty wizards and witches before they had to start shrinking themselves.
What felt odd about the underground hovel was that it was built out of wood. The cracks between the yellowish boards showed the dirt walls, floor, and ceiling of the large hole under the shed, and yet Ron did not feel as if he were underground. This strange feeling might have been due to the charmed "window" that looked over the village of Wedgrass. But Ron wondered about what enchantments might have been used to add to the "comfort" of Windy Top.
Who named this place, anyway?
"I wish Professor McGonagall was here," Hermione whispered at Ron's shoulder.
He turned and gazed down at her tense, nervous face and felt his stomach clench. McGonagall had left with the other members of the Order, including Sirius, Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill. Leaning over the large map, Ron saw the red dot labeled "Kitty" moving steadily beside "Doggy."
"Oh, honestly," Hermione muttered, her chin just over Ron's shoulder to read the map with him. He felt her hair brush against his cheek, along with her hot, exuded breath of exasperation.
"Oh, relax," said Mundungus cheerily. "We'll change it back to Black and McGonagall before they get back. What's the use of being Watcher if you can't have a little fun?"
"This isn't about fun," huffed Hermione. "This is about my friend, Ron's sister, and Harry's—"
Ron's jaw dropped, but Hermione's shut quickly, and he caught a twinge of red in her cheeks. He was aware that Harry had stopped pacing.
"Harry's what?" grinned Edgar, putting his feet up on the table and gazing across the small room.
"Yeah, Harry's what?" Ron wanted to ask, but he knew better. Slowly, he shifted in his chair to gaze over at his friend. Harry had sat himself down on an overturned barrel and had his hands buried in his hair, face carefully hidden from them.
"Uh . . . Harry's friend. Yeah, Ginny's a . . . a friend of Harry's, too," Hermione said tremulously.
"Oh yes, friend," Edgar chuckled knowingly.
It was then that Ron knew for sure. Harry was sitting perfectly still, face hidden, but his shoulders seemed to twitch. If . . . if this plan didn't work, if it failed . . . Ron would be losing his sister, but Harry would lose . . . Suddenly clenching Hermione's hand, Ron pulled her down next to him, wrapping his arms around her and not caring what Edgar or Mundungus said. She didn't seem to care either, but melted against him, her head finding its most comfortable perch against his chest, just under his chin. They were thinking the same thing: what it would be like to lose each other.
~*~*~
He had to get out. Being here wasn't doing anything but driving him mad with anger and frustration. It didn't matter that the most trusted and able members of the order were closing in on Malfoy Manor with a battle plan that just might work. Even without his stupidity, this battle would have taken place, probably within the next couple of weeks—but Ginny wouldn't be there. She, like the others, would have heard about it after it had happened. This night could have been spent in the Gryffindor common room, grumbling over schoolwork and N.E.W.T.s, and thinking of ways to be even closer to Ginny without Ron or Hermione noticing.
Harry still couldn't believe his own ears, even several minutes after Hermione had clumsily revealed what Harry had thought he'd kept very secret. How could she have known? Harry had never mentioned his feelings for Ginny, hadn't even said, "Oh, by the way, Hermione, Ginny and I are friends." It had just sort of happened, his and Ginny's friendship, and then . . . Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.
No way could he start remembering the feel of her soft lips against his. Not here. Not now. Not with everyone shooting him those looks. Edgar and Mundungus could just stop smirking like that, damnit! And Hermione and Ron didn't need to look so anguished for him! Bloody hell, it wasn't he, Harry Potter, the Effing Boy Who Lived, but Ginny who was in trouble. No sympathy for him. He had put her there. It was his fault!
Peeking out from under his fringe, Harry could see Ron staring at him as he held Hermione tightly. One big, freckled hand ran up and down her arm. Harry's eyes burned and he had to look down at his shoes. Ron might lose his sister tonight, and he knew it, felt it, but yet he was still looking at Harry as if it was Harry who would suffer most.
"They're within a mile," said Mundungus in a low voice.
Despite his desire to hide, Harry lifted his head as the four other inhabitants of Windy Top leaned over the table to watch the red dots close in.
~*~*~
"Well," Ginny breathed as Draco's hands immediately left her waist after helping her down the wall. "We made it." She tried to move her lips into a smile, but all she felt was utter exhaustion, terror, and shock.
"Not yet, we haven't." Draco held out his broomstick and then reached into his cloak and withdrew a familiar-looking wand. "This is yours."
Ginny stared at the thin piece of willow, feeling a spark of annoyance well in her. "How did you get this? And why didn't you give it to me earlier? I could have been of help!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Firstly, I stole it. Secondly, I'm not fool enough to let you have it. You don't know the spells, and even if you did, I suspect you would have been just as incompetent as your oaf of a brother—"
Ginny opened her mouth to retaliate, but Draco plunged on. "Also, had you tried anything back there, we would both be dead. Consider yourself blessed." He mounted his broomstick. "Get on. Or I leave you here when they discover you missing."
Ginny fought the urge to hex Malfoy right there and take off with his broom. But it seemed incredibly ungrateful—and a very Malfoy thing to do—to leave her rescuer here after he'd saved her life. Besides, she didn't know where she was or where to go. Scotland was very far from here, that much she knew.
Wordlessly, she mounted the Firebolt 2 behind Malfoy, and locked her arms around his waist. Instantly they lifted into the air, but only three feet off the ground. Draco flew low in the dark, skirting along the wall they had just climbed until they came to the woods. Then he landed and had her dismount.
"Anyone that prowls around our wall is dead," said Draco as he slipped into the woods, Ginny right behind him. "We have traps. You have to fly over them, and only on a broom marked by my father."
At "father" he grew very quiet. Ginny, even in the pressing dark, could see the tense line in Draco's jaw. Again, she wondered why he was doing this and why she was trusting him. For all she knew, this could be a test for him, to see how he could navigate mazes of traps and spells, drag a hostage along, and then . . . what would he do to her in the woods?
Yet even as she remembered the foul, violent images that had been in Draco's gray eyes the night before, Ginny couldn't quite muster the proper fear and hatred for him. She was just as disgusting and weak as he was, maybe even more so. Draco Malfoy had not tortured her on Voldemort's command, but she, Ginny Weasley, had willfully decided to give her sacrifice to help him reach immortality. Who had been the more selfish and weak?
Ginny's steps fell farther and farther behind, until Draco's Thief Light had draped him in shadow. Now completely swallowed by the dark, she collapsed to the cold ground, fighting the urge to sob. The sound of crackling limbs and dead leaves approached, but she didn't care if the Death Eaters found her.
"What, are you tired?" Draco demanded. Ginny was suddenly bathed in the faint glow from his Thief's Light. He towered above her, one hand on his hip as the other held the broomstick.
Ginny shook her head but then nodded.
"Too bad. You can't stop here. Woods will be the first place they check."
"I can't go back."
"Obviously. That's why we're walking away."
"No." Ginny sucked in a deep breath. "I can't go back to Hogwarts. When they know I wanted to give myself to Voldemort—"
"Shut up!" Draco hissed. He swooped down and clamped a hand over her mouth. "You idiot. Don't say his name! And stop being a whinging, self-pitying little prat. Count yourself lucky that you have people who want you back at Hogwarts. That you can go back."
Ginny stared up at him in wonderment. But Draco refused to meet her eye and quickly straightened up, brushing off his cloak and looking as if he hadn't said a word. Slowly she rose to her feet, feeling caught between her depression and her temper which had been flaring back through the evening. She wanted to be angry at Draco for insulting her, but a part of her knew he definitely had a point.
It occurred to her then that she might be able to get through this night. That she might live. That she might see everyone she loved again . . . but one of them didn't love her. Ginny stumbled over a tree root. It was just like that night in the Chamber of Secrets after she had woken up to find Harry and Fawkes, splattered in blood, waiting for her. Yes, she was now safe, but she knew Harry could not possibly have the same feelings for her. Not when he knew the awful truth. It made coming out of the darkness less bright.
~*~*~
All was still and quiet in the cold November night without stars or moon. All wildlife had fled Malfoy Manor shortly after strange smells and sounds began flowing from the massive structure. No leaves rustled, no branches bowed in a wind. The only sign of life was silent and fleeting, lost in the shadows and hush, figments of the imagination.
After several minutes of nothingness, a slight breeze began moving through the treetops. Clouds seemed to lower directly over the highest tower of the manor house. Then three figures on broomsticks rose up to the gathering clouds, a large balloon of sorts snug in a sling between two of the riders. The third followed closely behind but not below the enormous contraption. They disappeared into the mass.
Down below wizards and witches hastily secured their rain slickers and parkas, galoshes and Wellingtons, and goggles and masks. Suddenly there was a noise like the clap of thunder, but no lightning had preceded it. A second later, rain began pouring down on Malfoy Manor. It looked like any normal rain, but after about a minute, there was a sound not at all like thunder, but even more alarming. An odd steam seemed to rise from every wet surface as the rain turned slightly heavier, thicker, and with a very dirty glow to it.
The three riders came soaring over the accumulation. They flew over the woods and came to land in a clearing just out of the rain's reach.
"Beautiful, if I say so myself," said a cheery rider after dismounting.
Within five minutes, Malfoy Manor was drenched and steaming, resembling a dung pile that attracted flies. Over the pouring rain, shouts could be heard coming from the dark structure. Bright flashes of light from spells ended in static sparks that soon died out completely. A dome shape appeared over the top-most tower, curving gently down to the stonewall that surrounded the entire property. It crackled and sizzled, steam rising off the surface and then shooting through to hit the smoldering ground.
When the dome turned a hazy, dull gray, figures began to emerge seemingly from nowhere, all closing in on Malfoy Manor. With a unified cry, twenty bolts of red light shot into the high stonewall. In twenty different, evenly spaced-out sections, the wall began to crumble. But a breath later, the cry came again, and the red light disintegrated what was left of the stone.
The hazy dome flickered once, and then died completely, revealing ghostly shapes and figures dispersed in intricate patterns along the sweeping slope of the lawn. Four yellow-parka figures emerged first into the jungle, easily disabling the weak barriers in their way. Steam rose from their raincoats and parkas, but they continued forward, undaunted. More followed in their wake, spreading out to clear the lawn completely of obstacles. Several stone statues began to charge, but crumbled completely after three steps. When the wizards and witches reached the tangled mass of Devil's Snare, they found a pitiful, withering plant. As they pushed forward through the Snare, one member disappeared completely. Those that had been nearest paused uncertainly before urged to hurry onward.
And then, in a matter of minutes from when they'd started, the Order of the Phoenix reached the doorstep of Malfoy Manor.
~*~*~
Ginny and Draco had just reached the other side of the wood when they heard the clap of thunder. Gazing up into the dark sky, they could not see any thunderclouds. As Draco mounted his broom and Ginny wordlessly clamored on behind, a faint smell drifted to them with the breeze. Even the weakened aroma sent her nose stinging and she wrinkled it to try to escape the stench.
"What is that?" Draco muttered. He twisted on the broom to gaze back through the black wood, but there was nothing he could see. After hesitating a minute more, he kicked off into the air, higher than before, and they flew into the night.
~*~*~
"Well, we won't know much now until they tell us," Mundungus said, sitting back in his chair and scratching his ear. Nearly fifteen red dots had entered the manor, including the one labeled 'Dumbledore.' Black dots remained either stationary, or seemed to shift sluggishly when approached by a red dot.
"How come Ginny doesn't have a dot?" Ron asked suddenly. "Doesn't Sirius's maps reveal everyone who is there?"
"Not this one. Just the Order members and Death Eaters."
"Why not everyone?"
"He didn't have time."
~*~*~
George Weasley had not been entirely sure what to expect with the Really Rank Rain that he and Fred had proudly concocted. He had been sure it would work, he just hadn't been sure how well. The effects were amazing, and it gave him no small bit of satisfaction to see Malfoy Manor resembling a heaping pile of dung. If only he'd thought about bringing a camera!
Inside the manor, George found things rather chaotic but leaning towards his liking. Two Death Eaters had stumbled out of the front door, choking and gasping, only to collapse completely under the steaming rain. George breathed in his scent of strawberries as he stepped over the heap that he thought might be Crabbe and Goyle seniors as he followed his brother into the manor. Sirius and McGonagall were ahead of them, and George felt slightly annoyed they felt they had to baby-sit he and Fred.
But then there wasn't time to think about that. A Death Eater came wobbling into their path, wand out and giving off a raspy whine as he spluttered through a curse. Sirius Stunned him instantly and McGonagall conjured ropes out of thin air to bind him. All Order wands were wrapped in a sort of clingy Muggle plastic used to keep food fresh, and therefore perfectly capable of hexing Death Eaters.
George entered the front sitting room and saw two Death Eaters covering their noses and brandishing wands. "Hey, open the windows!" he shouted to Fred as he pointed his wand at the wizard on the right. "Petrificus Totalus!"
There was a gust of air as Fred opened all three windows simultaneously. The second Death Eater had dropped her hand to curse him as her partner fell to the floor, but she let out a garbled noise as she inhaled to say her own hex.
"Stupefy," Fred said cheerfully but forcefully. The witch fell to the floor with a thud.
"Good work," said Sirius, coming into the sitting room from the parlor across the corridor. He bound them quickly. "I'll tell everyone to open the windows."
George grinned from underneath his fresh-scented mask. Sirius looked ridiculous in his blue raincoat, yellow floppy hat, and pink floral mask. But his pale blue eyes were serious and focused as he whirled into the next room and word spread to open the windows. The creaking, whooshing sound of the windows opening echoed through the manor with the guttural sounds of retching Death Eaters.
"It really is a beautiful thing," said George, clapping Fred on the back.
BOOM!
The floor shook beneath them, knocking the twins to the floor. Shouts and cries rose from above and below, and George suddenly realized what was happening. "The dungeons! Quick!"
~*~*~
Harry screamed.
Hermione let out a shriek as Harry's head slammed onto the wooden table, slicing a crack down the middle. He twitched and growled, and his head rolled to the side, revealing his burning red scar and the already swelling bump.
"Harry?" she whispered, touching his shoulder as his eyes crossed and his hands flew to his scar. He called out again in agony as he pressed too hard against the bump. Or was his scar hurting him that much? "Harry!"
"What the hell?" Edgar swore, on his feet and moving around the table. "What's the matter with him?"
"I think something's gone wrong," Ron said hoarsely, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and pulling him off the table. "Easy, mate. Hermione—help!"
Hermione sprang forward as Ron dragged Harry, twitching and moaning, off the chair and to the floor. "What should I do?" she asked uncertainly. It seemed the only thing anyone could do when Harry's scar started to hurt was calm him down, but she didn't see how she could do that with him convulsing on the floor at her feet.
"I don't know . . . something!" Ron was pressing down hard on Harry's shoulders to keep him from rolling. His face was white compared to Harry's painful red, and Hermione's heart jumped to her throat.
What was Voldemort doing to Ginny?!
"Dumble . . . dore," Harry gasped, jerking against Ron's strong hold. Mundungus had hold of his legs, leaving Harry immobile. His eyes fluttered and his chest heaved. "No . . . Dumbledore! . . . Voldemo—NO!"
Hermione was suddenly shoved backwards, and she toppled over, her back hitting the wall. Gasping for breath, she saw that Ron and Mundungus had also been pushed back, and Edgar stood standing, speechless, with a broken bottle of butterbeer in his hand.
"Gosh," Edgar whispered, staring at Harry's curled form.