A/N: And bring back the angst, people! w00h00!! In which chapter Draco's life takes a sharp turn, Ginny is shocked by the circumstances, and... they come to some sort of understanding.
Disclaimer: When I own them, start writing your eulogies. They'll kill me in my sleep for the angst I put them through.
~*~
The first time that Ginny noticed that things might have changed was the start of her 6th year.
Six months of secrecy and sex and silent looks across the throng. She had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to knowing when he was watching her.
She could read the meanings in those sullen-day-sky gray eyes.
But her 5th year ended, and... though she hadn't expected him to correspond, exactly, with her over the summer...
No owls, and no word, and when she went to Diagon Alley with Ron, Hermione and Harry, she told herself that she wouldn't be obvious.
But... of course... white-blond hair was very visible and she couldn't help noticing it, right?
Especially when it emerged, two heads of it, from the fork in the road that led from Knockturn Alley.
She bit her lip as he looked around, and if Ron noticed her sudden silence, he said nothing. And when those tingles started in the back of her neck, she knew that he was watching her, and turned...
And he looked away, and his face was blank.
And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought maybe it was true... that Slytherins couldn't love, after all.
~*~
By the time the Starting Feast was in place, she knew a few things.
He was Head Boy, nothing too unexpected. She'd watched as he conferred briefly with Snape, before going to the Slytherin table and sitting down next to Pansy Parkinson.
He would be working extensively with Hermione, because they were Head Boy and Head Girl. And he still sneered at her, because she was loud and bossy and a know-it-all, in his eyes, someone who swallowed books to look smart.
There were several new Prefects, of course, and the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who walked in after her, a 5th year Slytherin... looked vaguely familiar. Emma Dobbs, Ginny thought her name was... who gave her an almost-smile.
But then there were other things, too.
She'd lost Ron and the rest of her housemates in the throng, and as she'd gone on her way to the loo, a thin hand had snaked around her wrist and pulled her none-too-gently through a nearby door.
And before she could even shout out in surprise, firm lips had fastened over hers, but familiar, and she realized that he'd grown a bit taller, for now he had to bend his head down slightly and she had to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips. And there was the scent of cleaning solutions and Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, because they were where they weren't supposed to be again and it was wrong and yet she didn't CARE if Filch burst in on them...
But he'd pulled away before either of them could go up in flames and loosen each other's robes too much, and then there was light falling upon her stunned face, and the head of white-blond hair, walking away.
And a note tightly rolled up that he'd somehow tucked up her blouse sleeve.
~*~
She'd taken a long time to unfold her napkin and spread it in her lap, but before she'd bent her head over the hearty chicken soup, she'd met his eyes and given a discreet nod. The note was nowhere to be seen now, of course. But she would meet him, and she remembered the password.
She smiled at Hermione, and told the Head Girl that she would take the Prefect patrol that night, since she, unlike the other girl, didn't have Advanced Arithmancy first thing in the morning. Hermione, already buried in the books before the classes even started, merely nodded, and turned back to murmuring about Calcular Studies and Integral Geomantic Principles while flipping through pages upon pages of meticulous notes.
And Ginny had almost run through the patrol hallways, curtly telling the students to go back to their dorms, and when the clock struck midnight, she took off, almost giddily, for the direction of the Dungeons.
His Head Boy Quarters were fine, lit with a few candles. As she stepped in and into his arms, she finally smiled.
"I've missed you," she whispered, but before she could say more, he was kissing her again and then she didn't think at all. A summer of nothing and now it was just overwhelming, her skin suddenly too hot and the taste of him on her lips... she could feel the tension in her belly increase, even as she buckled at the knees, tumbling onto his bed, backwards, gasping for breath...
And yet, when she, her blouse opened to the waist, reached for the buttons of his robes, he stopped her, his face suddenly apprehensive. "Gin..." her name was like liquor, smooth and fiery spilling over his tongue, "Wait... you have to... understand..."
"What must I understand?" her voice was thick now, her hands reaching for him. He wasn't going to slip away... he WASN'T going to slip away from her...
"Just... promise me that you'll understand... I had to, and it's not what you think..." But he'd never hesitated before, and a sense of foreboding broke into her anticipation. And she impatiently promised, before she unbuttoned and unfastened and lifted the fabric away...
And she gasped, a sudden feeling like frozen lead replacing the blood in her veins.
Dark Mark. DARK MARK DARK MARK DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO KILLER DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO ENEMY...
She stumbled, stared... and then clumsily sprang off the bed, unmindful of her breasts bared through the unbuttoned blouse, her face pale as paper as she prepared to flee.
He WAS taller, and he was faster, and even as he caught her around the waist none-too-gently with one arm, he cast a spell that Silenced the whole room with the other. "I TOLD you," he hissed in her ear as she struggled, bare feet scrabbling to kick him, "You have to UNDERSTAND..."
"What's there to understand?" she shrieked, trying to escape his iron grip, still flushed and dizzy from the intoxicating kisses, "You've become a Death Eater! You're..." her voice lowered, "You're no longer my Draco. You're HIS."
"What you must understand," he said in a cold voice, "Is that I'm NOT his. I'm me. And you have to LISTEN. Damn it all, Weasley, can you stop jumping to conclusions and stay still? I don't like you bouncing around so much... unless we're shagging," he tacked on insolently at the end.
She continued to struggle, but he pushed her down, straddling her waist and holding her wrists above her head. "Now, listen to me," he said in a low voice. "Yes, I got the Mark. No, it's not a phony to scare my mother with. But... it's not what you think, either."
She was silent, and he continued, "Ever heard of the term 'double agent'?"
And about half an hour later, the storm having passed, her face was pale and solemn. He was silent, his dangerous tale told, and finally, almost timidly, she reached over towards him again, now without the lustful mindlessness of earlier.
She brushed slender, smooth fingertips over the mark on his arm, and carefully traced the outline of the skull and serpent. And when she lifted up her big brown eyes and gazed into his face, they were calm, with the slight sheen of tears.
"Does it... does it hurt?" she whispered, her warm breath stirring the fair hair by his ear. He clenched his jaw for a moment, before he reached for her, hands lifting to tangle in her hair and lips seeking hers in need. She sighed slightly against his mouth, and gradually, moved her hands up his arms to clasp behind his neck, gently stroking his hair as they kissed.
And when they parted for breath, she gave him a tremulously sweet smile, and unbuttoned her uniform skirt.
And when Ginny returned, sneaking into Gryffindor at dawn with flushed cheeks and shadows underneath sparkling eyes, she mused that Slytherins loved, after all.
Disclaimer: When I own them, start writing your eulogies. They'll kill me in my sleep for the angst I put them through.
~*~
The first time that Ginny noticed that things might have changed was the start of her 6th year.
Six months of secrecy and sex and silent looks across the throng. She had developed almost a sixth sense when it came to knowing when he was watching her.
She could read the meanings in those sullen-day-sky gray eyes.
But her 5th year ended, and... though she hadn't expected him to correspond, exactly, with her over the summer...
No owls, and no word, and when she went to Diagon Alley with Ron, Hermione and Harry, she told herself that she wouldn't be obvious.
But... of course... white-blond hair was very visible and she couldn't help noticing it, right?
Especially when it emerged, two heads of it, from the fork in the road that led from Knockturn Alley.
She bit her lip as he looked around, and if Ron noticed her sudden silence, he said nothing. And when those tingles started in the back of her neck, she knew that he was watching her, and turned...
And he looked away, and his face was blank.
And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, she thought maybe it was true... that Slytherins couldn't love, after all.
~*~
By the time the Starting Feast was in place, she knew a few things.
He was Head Boy, nothing too unexpected. She'd watched as he conferred briefly with Snape, before going to the Slytherin table and sitting down next to Pansy Parkinson.
He would be working extensively with Hermione, because they were Head Boy and Head Girl. And he still sneered at her, because she was loud and bossy and a know-it-all, in his eyes, someone who swallowed books to look smart.
There were several new Prefects, of course, and the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who walked in after her, a 5th year Slytherin... looked vaguely familiar. Emma Dobbs, Ginny thought her name was... who gave her an almost-smile.
But then there were other things, too.
She'd lost Ron and the rest of her housemates in the throng, and as she'd gone on her way to the loo, a thin hand had snaked around her wrist and pulled her none-too-gently through a nearby door.
And before she could even shout out in surprise, firm lips had fastened over hers, but familiar, and she realized that he'd grown a bit taller, for now he had to bend his head down slightly and she had to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips. And there was the scent of cleaning solutions and Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, because they were where they weren't supposed to be again and it was wrong and yet she didn't CARE if Filch burst in on them...
But he'd pulled away before either of them could go up in flames and loosen each other's robes too much, and then there was light falling upon her stunned face, and the head of white-blond hair, walking away.
And a note tightly rolled up that he'd somehow tucked up her blouse sleeve.
~*~
She'd taken a long time to unfold her napkin and spread it in her lap, but before she'd bent her head over the hearty chicken soup, she'd met his eyes and given a discreet nod. The note was nowhere to be seen now, of course. But she would meet him, and she remembered the password.
She smiled at Hermione, and told the Head Girl that she would take the Prefect patrol that night, since she, unlike the other girl, didn't have Advanced Arithmancy first thing in the morning. Hermione, already buried in the books before the classes even started, merely nodded, and turned back to murmuring about Calcular Studies and Integral Geomantic Principles while flipping through pages upon pages of meticulous notes.
And Ginny had almost run through the patrol hallways, curtly telling the students to go back to their dorms, and when the clock struck midnight, she took off, almost giddily, for the direction of the Dungeons.
His Head Boy Quarters were fine, lit with a few candles. As she stepped in and into his arms, she finally smiled.
"I've missed you," she whispered, but before she could say more, he was kissing her again and then she didn't think at all. A summer of nothing and now it was just overwhelming, her skin suddenly too hot and the taste of him on her lips... she could feel the tension in her belly increase, even as she buckled at the knees, tumbling onto his bed, backwards, gasping for breath...
And yet, when she, her blouse opened to the waist, reached for the buttons of his robes, he stopped her, his face suddenly apprehensive. "Gin..." her name was like liquor, smooth and fiery spilling over his tongue, "Wait... you have to... understand..."
"What must I understand?" her voice was thick now, her hands reaching for him. He wasn't going to slip away... he WASN'T going to slip away from her...
"Just... promise me that you'll understand... I had to, and it's not what you think..." But he'd never hesitated before, and a sense of foreboding broke into her anticipation. And she impatiently promised, before she unbuttoned and unfastened and lifted the fabric away...
And she gasped, a sudden feeling like frozen lead replacing the blood in her veins.
Dark Mark. DARK MARK DARK MARK DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO KILLER DARK MARK DEATH EATER DRACO ENEMY...
She stumbled, stared... and then clumsily sprang off the bed, unmindful of her breasts bared through the unbuttoned blouse, her face pale as paper as she prepared to flee.
He WAS taller, and he was faster, and even as he caught her around the waist none-too-gently with one arm, he cast a spell that Silenced the whole room with the other. "I TOLD you," he hissed in her ear as she struggled, bare feet scrabbling to kick him, "You have to UNDERSTAND..."
"What's there to understand?" she shrieked, trying to escape his iron grip, still flushed and dizzy from the intoxicating kisses, "You've become a Death Eater! You're..." her voice lowered, "You're no longer my Draco. You're HIS."
"What you must understand," he said in a cold voice, "Is that I'm NOT his. I'm me. And you have to LISTEN. Damn it all, Weasley, can you stop jumping to conclusions and stay still? I don't like you bouncing around so much... unless we're shagging," he tacked on insolently at the end.
She continued to struggle, but he pushed her down, straddling her waist and holding her wrists above her head. "Now, listen to me," he said in a low voice. "Yes, I got the Mark. No, it's not a phony to scare my mother with. But... it's not what you think, either."
She was silent, and he continued, "Ever heard of the term 'double agent'?"
And about half an hour later, the storm having passed, her face was pale and solemn. He was silent, his dangerous tale told, and finally, almost timidly, she reached over towards him again, now without the lustful mindlessness of earlier.
She brushed slender, smooth fingertips over the mark on his arm, and carefully traced the outline of the skull and serpent. And when she lifted up her big brown eyes and gazed into his face, they were calm, with the slight sheen of tears.
"Does it... does it hurt?" she whispered, her warm breath stirring the fair hair by his ear. He clenched his jaw for a moment, before he reached for her, hands lifting to tangle in her hair and lips seeking hers in need. She sighed slightly against his mouth, and gradually, moved her hands up his arms to clasp behind his neck, gently stroking his hair as they kissed.
And when they parted for breath, she gave him a tremulously sweet smile, and unbuttoned her uniform skirt.
And when Ginny returned, sneaking into Gryffindor at dawn with flushed cheeks and shadows underneath sparkling eyes, she mused that Slytherins loved, after all.