Chapter 1
Ginny Weasley was sequestered in the furthest most corner of the library, shivering in her robe as a slight winter's breeze wafted about the old castle. In the pale moonlight that came though the stained glass windows above, she focused her gaze on the book she'd chosen for Snape's latest tortuous advanced potion assignment. Madam Bonaire's Medical Maladies and the Potions to Cure Them, was nearly 2000 pages thick, dusty and crackling about the edges. As Madam Bonaire's book was several hundred years old Ginny was forced to consult her Old Wizard's English Guide for translation as she took notes on the various ingredients needed for the project. From across the aisle a book or two shuffled a bit bringing her attention to the stacks and none other than Draco who was at the moment staring intently at her. His expression bore no insight into what his twisted little mind was conjuring. For a few seconds their eyes locked and she scowled at his scrutiny, narrowing her eyes to slits and setting her jaw tight. Whatever had startled Draco passed and he returned her scowl full force, abruptly replaced the book and stormed off. His black robes rustled in the wake. "Odd" she thought, and focused again on the dusty pages before her, but nothing would come of it, the words had begun to run together and form incoherent thoughts in her mind. Since her brain could no longer be focused on the task at hand she returned the book to it's rightful place on the lower shelf to her right. Passing the Great Hall, the night air seemed all the chillier now as she wandered her way back. Ginny pulled her robe in closer and quickened her pace as she sprinted up the steps. A group of seventh year Slytherin's were making their way down the staircase towards the dungeons. She happened to look up as they passed by, meeting again Draco's unwavering gaze for a moment, a moment that seemed to hold time at bay as they passed each other by.
That night as Ginny lay asleep wrapped in the comfort of her Hogwarts bed, she had the oddest dream. She saw a grassy knoll, the rolling hills of a barren country side filled the occasional small shrubs and lonely tree, the smell of the heather and gorse in full bloom gave the impression that spring had arrived. Standing on the balcony of a long forgotten castle she looked out watching as the warrior riders rode off through the castle gates and into battle. Her hands tightly gripped the cold stone as a light breeze tossed her long auburn hair about her eyes tickling her nose. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun. There, she saw him now; his green cloak was billowing behind him as his horse took him further away from their home. Her heart sunk into despair. "He is never coming back," she thought and followed his retreating form loath to blink, as she would miss another precious moment. As if he sensed his own perilous fate and her dark thoughts, he turned his horse slightly around casting a final look back, locking eyes with her knowing also this was his final chance. Then he turned back and rode off over the hill and into battle, and all was lost.
Ginny sat bolt upright. She was in her Hogwarts dormitory far away from her dream castle, but still her heart was pounding, her ears ringing with the sound of hooves and tears streamed down her cheeks. "Draco," she gasped, "Draco.... No." The despair she felt watching his retreating form hit her full force again and she couldn't understand where it had come from. In her heart she knew this was a distant memory from another time, but the man even though they didn't look alike she still knew him. It was definitely Draco; there was no doubt in her heart. In those brief moments filled with the terror she saw his soul, his eyes, and the same intent stare he'd given her earlier in the library. She knew with absolute clarity that she had died that day, whether or not it was from a broken heart or the raging war it did not matter. He had died, and she had chosen to go with him into death.
She stared at rich crimson velvet curtains draping her bed, as if they could possibly give her the answer or, for starters, the question she needed to find the answer to. But nothing was given, there no clues as to why she had dreamed about losing Draco (or was it remembered) and she settled back down for a fitful night's sleep.
Chapter 1:
On Saturday morning the great hall was teaming with its usual chatter during the morning breakfast. Dumbledoor at the head table seemed to be having a raucous discussion with Madam Pince that had set the teachers into gales of laughter. Snape still had that ill and greasy look about him, but yet couldn't hide the delight on his face.
Harry observed this uncharacteristic development on the face of their most hated professor and directed Ron's attention, "No going outside today, you might get conked with a flying pig," he said with a straight face and raised eyebrow.
"No good could ever come of this, the world is ending, next thing Hermione will be getting a date to the Christmas Ball" replied Ron who wasn't even bothering to conceal his horror.
Harry giggled until a well-placed kick to the shin from Hermione caused him to wince with pain. She was glaring at him and stabbing her eggs mercilessly with her fork.
The rest of the Gryffindor table was watching with slight intrepidation the debate Ginny was currently having with Colin, Dean and Seamus about the benefits of the New Nimbus 2010's, and whether or not a broom could make up for suck-ass poor flying of the pretty-boy snobby Slytherins. Well in particular one Draco Malfoy. Ginny and Seamus were notorious for their knock em down drag em out quidditch debates that often enough ended with Ron joining in, then siding with Seamus and leading to yet another sibling war. The Gryffindors while a brave bunch were just recovering from the latest brother sister spat involving grapefruit, condoms and a few thousand ball bearings. The general rule was that you never messed with the two youngest Weasley's, Fred and George kept them well stocked with the latest from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes shops. But there were to be no major incidents today, as Ron was very much involved in torturing Harry and Hermione, and Harry in turn was losing the feeling in his legs with every kick from Hermione's boots.
Having nearly given up ever being able to mount a broom again, let alone walk, Harry made a last ditch effort to stop Ron and save his bruised legs. Grabbing Ginny by the arm, which was currently flailing about describing the last fantastic Chudly Cannons move she'd seen he laid his trap.
"Ginny. Ginny!"
"What!" "Sorry, yes Harry?" she turned her attention now fully to the Gryffindor trio allowing Dean and Seamus to finish out the fight.
"Did anyone ask out Luna yet for the ball?" Harry didn't need to turn round to know it was Ron choking on his biscuits. Hermione ever so calmly looked up from her plate and thumped him on the back dislodging the problem into his pumpkin juice.
"Thanks," Ron mumbled.
"Anytime."
Ginny watched this all with a look of utter bemusement, "Well if my dearest big brother is done shoveling food into his trap without choking, I could answer Harry's question."
Ron, glared but nodded, staring eerily at his juice, deciding it was no longer fit to drink and the swiping Harry's.
"No, she's not going." "The right bloke hasn't got the guts to ask her out."
Harry returned his look of bemusement back to his other redheaded friend, " The lovely Luna isn't going to the ball yet. I wonder why that is?" "Hermione, do we know of any bloke that should take her?"
"Oh shove off, both of you!"
Harry and Hermione did their absolute best to appear wide-eyed and innocent. However, Ron now had his elbow stuck in a plate of butter and was the nicest shade of crimson as he was muttering madly to himself about meddlesome friends, Harry and Hermione couldn't attempt to hold back the gales of laughter as their efforts at remaining quiet failed miserably.
The mood on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall was profoundly more somber. Malfoy held court in the middle of the long table, sipping a bit of his juice and ignoring the inane chatter of his housemates.
"Draco."
"Draco."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Unfortunately it would appear that I haven't a choice in the matter as you've been screeching at me for the past ten minutes." Draco never even bothered to look at his nemesis, the great lug of a woman that was Millicent Bullstrode, instead opting for focusing on the Gryffindor's table and scowling.
"Really? Then what was the last thing I said?"
Mockingly he repeated "Draco, Draco?" "Then you said something about-the potions exam, Blaise's smelly socks and where we should stick the goat before the next quidditch game." "I assume that covers it."
"Honestly Malfoy, where is your spark of mischief?" "This is our last chance to make a permanent scar on the Hogwarts conscience, to go down in flames!" "We must fight to the last and have our way with the common people!" "Onward my compatriots, to the dungeons!" Millicent had a knack for turning an ordinary somber day extraordinary with a full-fledged battle cry. To Draco's great relief, the now roused Slytherin's scrambled over one another and followed their intrepid leader down the hall and out the great doors. There was no possible way a Malfoy could maintain his composure without the proper breakfast and he certainly could not deal with smelly farm animals this early.
Ginny Weasley was sequestered in the furthest most corner of the library, shivering in her robe as a slight winter's breeze wafted about the old castle. In the pale moonlight that came though the stained glass windows above, she focused her gaze on the book she'd chosen for Snape's latest tortuous advanced potion assignment. Madam Bonaire's Medical Maladies and the Potions to Cure Them, was nearly 2000 pages thick, dusty and crackling about the edges. As Madam Bonaire's book was several hundred years old Ginny was forced to consult her Old Wizard's English Guide for translation as she took notes on the various ingredients needed for the project. From across the aisle a book or two shuffled a bit bringing her attention to the stacks and none other than Draco who was at the moment staring intently at her. His expression bore no insight into what his twisted little mind was conjuring. For a few seconds their eyes locked and she scowled at his scrutiny, narrowing her eyes to slits and setting her jaw tight. Whatever had startled Draco passed and he returned her scowl full force, abruptly replaced the book and stormed off. His black robes rustled in the wake. "Odd" she thought, and focused again on the dusty pages before her, but nothing would come of it, the words had begun to run together and form incoherent thoughts in her mind. Since her brain could no longer be focused on the task at hand she returned the book to it's rightful place on the lower shelf to her right. Passing the Great Hall, the night air seemed all the chillier now as she wandered her way back. Ginny pulled her robe in closer and quickened her pace as she sprinted up the steps. A group of seventh year Slytherin's were making their way down the staircase towards the dungeons. She happened to look up as they passed by, meeting again Draco's unwavering gaze for a moment, a moment that seemed to hold time at bay as they passed each other by.
That night as Ginny lay asleep wrapped in the comfort of her Hogwarts bed, she had the oddest dream. She saw a grassy knoll, the rolling hills of a barren country side filled the occasional small shrubs and lonely tree, the smell of the heather and gorse in full bloom gave the impression that spring had arrived. Standing on the balcony of a long forgotten castle she looked out watching as the warrior riders rode off through the castle gates and into battle. Her hands tightly gripped the cold stone as a light breeze tossed her long auburn hair about her eyes tickling her nose. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun. There, she saw him now; his green cloak was billowing behind him as his horse took him further away from their home. Her heart sunk into despair. "He is never coming back," she thought and followed his retreating form loath to blink, as she would miss another precious moment. As if he sensed his own perilous fate and her dark thoughts, he turned his horse slightly around casting a final look back, locking eyes with her knowing also this was his final chance. Then he turned back and rode off over the hill and into battle, and all was lost.
Ginny sat bolt upright. She was in her Hogwarts dormitory far away from her dream castle, but still her heart was pounding, her ears ringing with the sound of hooves and tears streamed down her cheeks. "Draco," she gasped, "Draco.... No." The despair she felt watching his retreating form hit her full force again and she couldn't understand where it had come from. In her heart she knew this was a distant memory from another time, but the man even though they didn't look alike she still knew him. It was definitely Draco; there was no doubt in her heart. In those brief moments filled with the terror she saw his soul, his eyes, and the same intent stare he'd given her earlier in the library. She knew with absolute clarity that she had died that day, whether or not it was from a broken heart or the raging war it did not matter. He had died, and she had chosen to go with him into death.
She stared at rich crimson velvet curtains draping her bed, as if they could possibly give her the answer or, for starters, the question she needed to find the answer to. But nothing was given, there no clues as to why she had dreamed about losing Draco (or was it remembered) and she settled back down for a fitful night's sleep.
Chapter 1:
On Saturday morning the great hall was teaming with its usual chatter during the morning breakfast. Dumbledoor at the head table seemed to be having a raucous discussion with Madam Pince that had set the teachers into gales of laughter. Snape still had that ill and greasy look about him, but yet couldn't hide the delight on his face.
Harry observed this uncharacteristic development on the face of their most hated professor and directed Ron's attention, "No going outside today, you might get conked with a flying pig," he said with a straight face and raised eyebrow.
"No good could ever come of this, the world is ending, next thing Hermione will be getting a date to the Christmas Ball" replied Ron who wasn't even bothering to conceal his horror.
Harry giggled until a well-placed kick to the shin from Hermione caused him to wince with pain. She was glaring at him and stabbing her eggs mercilessly with her fork.
The rest of the Gryffindor table was watching with slight intrepidation the debate Ginny was currently having with Colin, Dean and Seamus about the benefits of the New Nimbus 2010's, and whether or not a broom could make up for suck-ass poor flying of the pretty-boy snobby Slytherins. Well in particular one Draco Malfoy. Ginny and Seamus were notorious for their knock em down drag em out quidditch debates that often enough ended with Ron joining in, then siding with Seamus and leading to yet another sibling war. The Gryffindors while a brave bunch were just recovering from the latest brother sister spat involving grapefruit, condoms and a few thousand ball bearings. The general rule was that you never messed with the two youngest Weasley's, Fred and George kept them well stocked with the latest from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes shops. But there were to be no major incidents today, as Ron was very much involved in torturing Harry and Hermione, and Harry in turn was losing the feeling in his legs with every kick from Hermione's boots.
Having nearly given up ever being able to mount a broom again, let alone walk, Harry made a last ditch effort to stop Ron and save his bruised legs. Grabbing Ginny by the arm, which was currently flailing about describing the last fantastic Chudly Cannons move she'd seen he laid his trap.
"Ginny. Ginny!"
"What!" "Sorry, yes Harry?" she turned her attention now fully to the Gryffindor trio allowing Dean and Seamus to finish out the fight.
"Did anyone ask out Luna yet for the ball?" Harry didn't need to turn round to know it was Ron choking on his biscuits. Hermione ever so calmly looked up from her plate and thumped him on the back dislodging the problem into his pumpkin juice.
"Thanks," Ron mumbled.
"Anytime."
Ginny watched this all with a look of utter bemusement, "Well if my dearest big brother is done shoveling food into his trap without choking, I could answer Harry's question."
Ron, glared but nodded, staring eerily at his juice, deciding it was no longer fit to drink and the swiping Harry's.
"No, she's not going." "The right bloke hasn't got the guts to ask her out."
Harry returned his look of bemusement back to his other redheaded friend, " The lovely Luna isn't going to the ball yet. I wonder why that is?" "Hermione, do we know of any bloke that should take her?"
"Oh shove off, both of you!"
Harry and Hermione did their absolute best to appear wide-eyed and innocent. However, Ron now had his elbow stuck in a plate of butter and was the nicest shade of crimson as he was muttering madly to himself about meddlesome friends, Harry and Hermione couldn't attempt to hold back the gales of laughter as their efforts at remaining quiet failed miserably.
The mood on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall was profoundly more somber. Malfoy held court in the middle of the long table, sipping a bit of his juice and ignoring the inane chatter of his housemates.
"Draco."
"Draco."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Unfortunately it would appear that I haven't a choice in the matter as you've been screeching at me for the past ten minutes." Draco never even bothered to look at his nemesis, the great lug of a woman that was Millicent Bullstrode, instead opting for focusing on the Gryffindor's table and scowling.
"Really? Then what was the last thing I said?"
Mockingly he repeated "Draco, Draco?" "Then you said something about-the potions exam, Blaise's smelly socks and where we should stick the goat before the next quidditch game." "I assume that covers it."
"Honestly Malfoy, where is your spark of mischief?" "This is our last chance to make a permanent scar on the Hogwarts conscience, to go down in flames!" "We must fight to the last and have our way with the common people!" "Onward my compatriots, to the dungeons!" Millicent had a knack for turning an ordinary somber day extraordinary with a full-fledged battle cry. To Draco's great relief, the now roused Slytherin's scrambled over one another and followed their intrepid leader down the hall and out the great doors. There was no possible way a Malfoy could maintain his composure without the proper breakfast and he certainly could not deal with smelly farm animals this early.