As Thou Being Mine
Chapter 5: Questioning
Author's jibberish: I kinda left you guys with a cliffie. Sorry, but hey, you're here now aren't you?
I'm surprised about the response I received for the last chapter…People weren't threatening my life to post, which is always a good thing…agh…This chapter goes out to the patient reviewers of chapter 4 (SVZ, you always manage to say such nice things! =D)
He said he didn't want to be one. But he is. He is. Draco is. Draco is a deatheater. All this time, I've been in closed quarters with a follower of You-Know-Who. He could have killed me. He didn't. Why not? I'm against his Master. His father hates my family. He's supposed to hate me too! Why doesn't he?
It was a week after Ginny saw the Dark Mark on his arm. It had been burned in her memory. Every time Ginny saw Draco, an image of the Mark would flash in her mind and she would run far away from him.
Her first thought was to tell Hermione but seeing how she was such a spaz-case…Telling Ron was pointless, and the same results would ensue with Harry. She thought of telling Professor McGonagall, but what if she had to make a thorough explanation? That meant revealing she was in the Head Boy chamber at such a late hour. Then, Professor Dumbledore came to mind. He wouldn't ask questions; he'd just listen.
Ginny made a decision as she walked to the school's kitchen. Right after all the semester tests, she would march up to Dumbledore and tell him.
"Yes, let's tell him…it's like signing a death sentence if I say no."
"It's a death sentence to join You-Know-Who."
"Well, then I'll perish either way."
Something didn't fit.
She wasn't in the Great Hall. Draco kept watch at the Gryffindor table. He noticed that she had done everything to avoid him, from running in his opposite direction to stop visiting the library. She even stopped coming over. What started off as a blackmail scheme turned into routine evenings for him. His stomach was heavy. He had his Defense Against the Dark Arts book open, but he was paying no attention to it. While everyone around him was studying frantically, he was not too concerned. He has had a week of sleepless nights; he occupied that with facts, remedies, and incantations.
The weight shifted beside him. He sideglanced and saw Pansy, her nose scrunched up in disapproval. "Malfoy…"
"Parkinson…"
She lowered her voice. "I saw you."
"And unfortunately, no one can miss you. Not with that face," Draco growled. "Don't you need to study?"
"I saw you and Weasley's sister."
Draco gave her his full attention, still trying to keep his most annoyed Malfoy face. "What in blazes are you grunting about?"
"You know exactly--."
"I suggest you should do something better with your time than make up stories," Draco snapped. "God knows you need to keep your grades up."
Blotches of red anger appeared on her face. She heaved, and then stormed off.
It was the last finals day and Ginny couldn't take it any longer. The only thing keeping her from exploding was considering the fact that telling Dumbledore would come soon. She just needed to finish her last final…Potions.
She was definitely ready. She stopped reading Les Miserables for a week. In fact, she forgot it in his room, along with her robe. She had been borrowing one from her housemate, Crissy Bockson. All her attention was to her finals, regardless of her need to read Victor Hugo's words.
The dungeon began to fill with Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. It was a comforting thought that she didn't have Potions with Slytherin…Poor Ron. Snape was really quite biased.
Snape stormed in, black robes flying as he quickly made his way across the room. He headed straight to the black board and scribbled instructions in his chicken-scratch print. Then he turned to the class. "You have one and ½ hours." He sat behind his desk and busied himself with papers.
From what Ginny could understand, it instructed to make 3 specific potions, and label them with the student's name. The student was asked to write down all the steps, collect qualitative data, write down properties of ingredients used, what the results were when those ingredients combined, and finally a guess of what type of potion it would be. Ginny's eyebrows furrowed. She could just imagine the 7th years' final. It was a mock NEWT after all. How long was the stick up his ass this very moment?
The results of her potions were a red one, a yellow one and a murky grey. Hopefully, that was what they were supposed to be. She glanced around and saw some had the same results. One particularly smart Ravenclaw boy had a red, gold, and silver. Ginny gulped. She was near the end of her parchment, finishing up the last potion's data. Snape had been stalking around for 15 minutes, criticizing some results.
"More marigold," he said to a Gryffindor's green solution. "Too much sea moss," he told a Ravenclaw. Then he approached Ginny's desk.
Ginny looked up, and gulped, as he eyed her vial creations. He looked as though he was mentally evaluating them, with the way his brow furrowed. "P…Professor?" she muttered.
Then he turned to her. "Time is up!" he said, very loudly.
It made Ginny jump. In response, everyone stood, placing their vials on the counter where it was instructed. Ginny looked down at her paper; she had stopped at mid-sentence. She was about to continue it.
"I said time, Miss Weasley!" he bellowed.
Defeated, she put her quill down and collected her vials and placed them in the counter. She placed her parchment on the already made stack on his desk. Ginny collected her things and bolted out the room.
Tell Dumbledore, tell Dumbledore…
A hand clasped her at her hip. Before she shrieked in panic, a voice hissed, "Don't dare open your mouth. Walk if you know what's good for you."
Panic washed over her as her ears absorbed Draco's voice. She did walk in a steady rhythm. "Turn left," he instructed, "go to my room."
They walked past a group of first year Hufflepuffs. Ginny thought of running for dear life. That'd be good…Dumbledore's office wasn't that far from the Head-Students' Wing.
Her pace began to quicken until she felt a tug on her robes. "Don't," he warned her. She felt something poke her back, causing her trunk to arch. His wand was pushing against her spine. He was holding her at wand-point. She had no choice.
They came forward to his too familiar door. He said his password and the door creaked open. Draco gently touched the door and it shut slowly. He pulled her towards the fireplace. "Here," he said, handing her the robes she left.
Ginny took it, her eyes on his left arm, still imagining the mark. "Th-Thanks." Quickly, she turned but caught her breath when Draco caught her left wrist…with his left hand.
"What happened last week?" he asked.
Slowly she turned to him. "I…" her eyes kept glancing at his arm, no matter how hard she forced herself to look in his eyes.
"You what?"
he then noticed Ginny's eyes weren't on his face, like they usually were when
they talked. "What's the matter with you? What are you looking at?"
"N-Nothing," she lied, her
eyes glued at his arm and then briefly glancing at his face. She decided to
look down, hoping that would stop her wandering sight. No matter what she did,
her eyes darted to his left arm.
Draco's eyes followed hers to his arm. Then he looked at Ginny, realization crossing his face. "You…saw it."
"Saw what?" she turned to her robes that were draped over her arms. The loose threads were all of a sudden very interesting.
"The mark on my arm."
She paled again and she snapped her wrist out of his grasp. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now if you excuse me…" she headed straight for the door.
Draco sped up to her and slammed his hand against the door, preventing her from leaving. Ginny took a deep breath. Her body faced the door, and Draco stood close, his breath against her neck. "You're a terrible liar, Red." He moved closer to her, removing his hand from the door. "You're scared of me?"
She looked down and didn't answer. She couldn't bear to look up at him. Her eyes ran down to the doorknob. "What do you want to hear?"
"I want your answer."
"You're…you're a Death-eater," she managed to whisper. "You…lied."
"I never said I wasn't."
She turned to him. "But you said you didn't care to be one!"
"Yes--."
"Then how--?"
"Not everything is definite, Red!" he exclaimed. "Not everything is in simple black and white!"
"Did your father force you to be a Death-eater?" she asked. "Is that it then?"
"No, I went willingly!" he admitted. "It was my duty and honor to join!"
Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Then why--?"
"Things change," he admitted, stepping back. "You should know that. You come to my chambers every night, seeking help in your reading."
"Not anymore," she muttered, walking towards the fireplace.
"Yes, not anymore. And why is that? Because being in company of a Death-eater makes your stomach turn?" Draco hissed. "Fine, go ahead: let it all out but don't expect me to hold your hair back."
"I…I don't know why I ran," she told him. "All I know is that I saw the Mark and it scared me."
"It was natural to do," he said.
She nodded in shame. They stood silently, not uttering a word in from of the fire. "How… how old were you?" she asked. "When did you join?"
"New Years Eve, when I was 16…last year. I was going to sacrifice my life to the Dark Lord," he said, staring into the fire.
"What happened? You joined willingly… What changed?"
"And why should I tell you?" he turned his attention to Ginny, stepping up to her. "So you can run your mouth to Dumbledore like the good little Weasley you are? Think you might get a special little reward for some service you did to mankind?"
"Dammit Draco!" Ginny closed her eyes and stomped her foot. "I just want to know!"
"And why should you care what is going on?!"
"Because I do!" she exclaimed but then immediately covered her mouth with her hands. Then she pulled them away and muttered, "I…I thought we were friendly, at least…"
He shook his head. "You wouldn't like it."
"Whatever happened made you not want to be a Death-eater," she responded. "How could I not?"
He turned away from her, hand on the mantle, with his eyes on the fire. "Do you remember a girl named Angie Wells? She was in Ravenclaw, I think."
Ginny nodded. "Yes, she's in my year…or at least she was last year. Her grandparents transferred her to Durmstang because her parents died. But what--?" Ginny gulped as Draco looked up at her. "You mean, you…?" she weakened and sat back, letting the chair catch her.
"Her parents were my first assignment. It was the first time I ever touched the green light and the moment I did…I was addicted," he told her. "I was looking forward to my next assignment. I couldn't help but think of all the wizards I could kill and that I would show I was more powerful than them."
Ginny's fingertips dug in her skirt.
"Then, my next assignment was a muggle couple whose child attended Beauxbatons," he turned and sat down on the chair next to her. "Sure they were mere muggles so I thought to enjoy it all the same. They were running like little spiders; I found a delight in their fear. But at the same time, they were muggles, they had no means of defense. But a job was a job. So, I killed the father first. Then I killed the mother; her back was turned to me, she didn't have time to see her attacker. As I was ready to leave, I heard a cry. When I looked down, there was a baby, whining right next to her mother's lying dead form."
"Oh god…tell me you didn't…" Ginny whimpered.
"I could lie and say the Dark Lord didn't come to me and told me to finish it off," Draco murmured. "I could say the child is living well, playing in the snow the very moment we speak." He scoffed. "After that, everything changed. I did," he looked up and saw Ginny wiping away her tears. "What the hell are you crying for? If anything, I should be…"
"Why aren't you?"
"The strong will live, the weak will die," he declared. "I refuse to be weak and roll over."
"No," Ginny disagreed. "I refuse to believe that. If you tell Dumbledore, he'll understand--."
"Let's tell the Headmaster," Draco sneered. "Then the Aurors will start investigations, I'll be thrown into Azkaban for my crimes, and the Dementors will have a hay day kissing the life out of me…literally!" Draco sprang to his feet, eyes burning into her. "I'm 17 years old, Red. I see what that place has done to my colleagues."
"So, Draco Malfoy does have a fear, even if he won't admit it." She looked up at him and immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Draco. I… I wish I could help."
He shrugged. "There's nothing more that can be done."
"What about Christmas? Do you think you'll be assigned…jobs?" she put it lightly.
"More than likely," he said casually.
"So you won't try to escape?" she asked.
"Say I do find a way out, with my body still active and unhexed. What is there to escape to?"
"Friends?"
"Children of my father's associates."
"Family?"
"My father's love is dignity and honor. My mother's love is silence."
Ginny's heart sank. He really did have no one to turn to. "Are you leaving the same day as everyone else?"
He shook his head. "Tonight, at 8 o'clock pm. The earlier train."
"Why so early?"
"Father's wishes. He said to get there as soon as possible."
Ginny frowned. They could be plotting something. That would mean a muggle-born, an auror family or a ministry family will start off the new year with a death. Draco has killed 5 people within one year. Maybe more. "I see…" Ginny's mind clouded as she headed to the door. "Happy holiday, Draco."
He watched her exit his room. It was very anti-climactic. There was no throwing things or constant screaming. But he told her; he let out what has happened. At least, he only told her the baseline. Who knows what her reaction would have been if he told her everything.
These were dark times in the wizarding world, with Voldemort's underground rising. How long will it take until the hand of fate catches up to him?
Draco took a deep breath and fell back in his chair. He was a 17 year old boy. He was responsible for 5 lives; one was a few weeks old. He was 17 years old and he already killed 5 people and tortured many. He took a deep breath.
Draco noticed that when she left, the room dimmed.
…~*to be continued*~ …