8: Confrontations
Willow,
You'll do wonderfully. I have all the faith in the world. My one bit of advice would be this: don't picture everyone in their underwear. It never works.
But seriously, as long as you take things at your own pace, everything will be fine. The lesson plans you sent looked fantastic. Stick to them, and your students will learn a great deal. And should you need help, of course, I'm always here.
Rupert
Appended at the bottom of Giles' letter was a second note, this one scrawled in yellow crayon. The familiar handwriting made her smile.
Wills,
Don't eat the paste. Leave it for the kids.
Xander
Willow put the letter down and brushed the hair back out of her face with a smile. Xander always knew what to say to take the edge off. The butterflies in her stomach slowed their flapping to Warp Seven.
"Deep breaths," she whispered behind closed eyes, "deep breaths."
"That's the spirit." Ron's good hand clapped her on the shoulder. "Bloody nerve-wracking, eh?"
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Not like, y'know, an army of uber-vamps or anything, but yeah, a little."
"Mione says the secret is remembering that you know more than they do."
"That could be helpful," she agreed with a clipped nod.
"'Cept for me, 'cos I don't think I do. A'course, I've got the detention power goin' for me now."
She pursed her lips. "I'm pretty sure you have to clear those with me."
"No way. I'm a professor. I'm all about detentions."
"You were all about them when you were a student, as I recall," Harry said as he wheeled himself into the classroom. "Morning, Willow."
"Hi Harry! I mean, um, good morning."
He smiled. "You guys ready for this?"
"Gulp."
"I'm with Willow. How long've we got, Harry?"
"Five minutes."
They traded looks of horror.
"Okay, we shouldn't be nervous, I mean, we all went to school, right? We've been to class. And-and-and I taught one for awhile in high school, oh, but that was a computer class, not magic. Magic seems like it'd be trickier, and I don't have Miss Calendar's syllabuses – syllabi? Do you guys know which it is?"
They met her expectant look with wide-eyed stares.
"Um, Willow, are you – are you sure you're ready to do this? You seem a little nervous," said Harry.
Willow blinked. Then she took a deep breath and tried to force the blood rushing around in her head to stop.
"I guess I got into that babble a little."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, "just a bit."
"If you're not up for this … well, what I mean to say is, if you're not, y'know, ready after everything that happened last night, we can – I guess Ron and I could handle it."
She smiled. "Thanks, Harry. Really. But hiding in my room is so not what needs to happen right now. I think educational Willow is the perfect remedy for this. The babbling should go away on its own." Hopefully before class starts, she added silently.
The boys nodded. Harry was about to respond, but the first of the first-year Gryffindors walked in.
"Good morning!" Willow rushed out, tossing a loaded glance at Harry and Ron, who each quickly greeted their first student in turn.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was now in session.
"She'll hear you out, Drake."
He grunted, his only response besides shifting more of his weight back against the wall. Most people in the Ministry thought of Draco Malfoy as a man with ice in his veins. Ginny knew differently. His face looked calm, but the possibility that he wouldn't be allowed to pursue this assignment was weighing heavily on him. She could feel the tension in him more than she could see it. He had also been snapping at her all morning.
"Dumbledore already talked to her, and you know her, hon. She'll listen. If you don't lose your temper."
That drew a short nod. His eyes fixed on the door to Amelia Bones' office. He knew how to handle this, but the return of his father had him tied up in knots. If Bones acted the way she normally did, he would have to be very careful. She had a nasty habit of asking just the right questions to find a reason to disagree with whatever a petitioner might be asking.
"I know, Gin. I'm ready. Bloody waste of time, though. I still think my idea would've worked."
"No way am I letting you resign, Draco. Even to work at Hogwarts. Besides," she added with a pout, "what'd happen to us? 'Less you wanted to tell my family jus' now."
"That would make this week the dog's bollocks, now wouldn't it? S'not like I would've been jobless. An' we could've worked something out about your family. Sick of hidin' from them, anyway." The last sentence was a mistake; he knew it as soon as it slipped out.
Her eyes narrowed. His contempt for her brother and her parents never failed to ignite her fury, and, as tense as Draco was, Ginny was equally upset. She didn't need him piling that on as well.
"I'm sorry, Draco, but I'm not quite ready to come out of the closet on this. Not for your father's sake anyway. It's not like yours is the bad end of the deal. You still get some every night."
The anger bubbled up from Draco's stomach like a geyser. Intellectually, he knew that he didn't want to start this argument again, here, now, in the hallway outside of Bones' office. He knew he could stop it right here and now, apologize, and everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, he couldn't help himself. He was way too close to the edge already.
"Virginia Weasley, it is NOT ABOUT MY FATHER! NOR IS IT ABOUT ME AT ALL!" He slammed his fist against the wall, driving her back a step and shaking several posters loose from their moorings. "It's about us, goddammit, about us and you and having the freedom to do whatever we bloody well please without worrying what that pillock Ron is going to do about it!"
"Don't you call him a pillock, Draco! He's my brother, and he's only trying to protect me, which is a sight more than I can say your family does for you."
His voice iced over. "They might not protect me, but they don't keep me from being happy."
"No, they're too busy trying to kill you for that."
"Maybe they are. But they haven't gotten close to knocking me off, have they? It doesn't change how I live my life, does it? But you – you're still paying rent on an apartment you don't live in, just so you don't have to face them."
Ginny's face flushed crimson. "How dare you? I'm a coward? S'that what your sayin'? I'm not the one standin' out here shaking 'cos … no, you know what? Sod off, Draco Malfoy. I don't need to take this from you."
She spun around and stormed off to the elevator.
"Damn," Draco whispered, feeling twice the idiot for yelling at Ginny and for letting his father's return get to him. "That I didn't need."
"Mr. Malfoy," said the soft voice of Amelia's assistant from the door. She had seen the whole exchange, and he could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Amelia will see you now."
"Terrific," he muttered.
"Good morning," Willow chirped again as the last kids took their seats. She leaned back against the front of her desk and offered the friendliest smile she could muster.
None of the students said anything. Several of them scowled; she noted the green and white Slytherin patches on each of those robes. Off to Willow's left, Harry watched the crowd intently. Ron's gaze skipped nervously back and forth from the students to Willow. He had never taught before, and at the moment fervently wished he had listened harder to the wisdom Hermione had tried to impart on the subject.
"My name is Professor Rosenberg," she lifted her right hand and extended her index finger, "and this is Defense Against the Dark Arts." In the air, she traced out her name and the letters "DADA" with the tip of her finger. Trails of white light followed it, forming the words in the air in front of her.
She heard a half-dozen wows and a few scattered oohs and aahs.
"So, would anyone like to tell me what you're here to learn from me this year?"
A brown-haired girl in the back raised a wavering hand.
"Okay … Marisa, right?" The girl nodded. "Okay, Marisa, tell me what you think."
"We're here ta learn how ta fight bad wizards."
Willow gave her a big smile. "Exactly right. Not all wizards are good, and some of the things we'll learn about this year have to do with them. I'm glad you brought that up, Marisa, because it's my assistants who are going to be handling the whole evil wizard slice of the Dark Arts pie." Several people giggled. "I know Professor Dumbledore introduced them yesterday, but I'll let them introduce themselves to you now."
She looked at Ron and Harry, who were staring back at her with wide eyes. The silence lasted five seconds.
"Guys!" Willow hissed.
"Right," Ron began, "well, yeah, see … I'm Ron Weasley, an' this is my friend, Harry Potter."
When he said Harry's name, the room got very quiet. Every pair of student eyes grew very wide. It hadn't sunk in the night before that Ron and Harry would actually be teaching their class all year. Every one of them knew who they were and what they had done. Even the Slytherins found their haughtiness stripped away. Their teachers' names reduced them to awe-filled eleven year-olds.
One Gryffindor boy raised a hand slowly. Willow checked her seating chart.
"Yes, Mark?"
"Professor … um, Professor Potter?" Harry nodded for him to continue. "Could we … that is, could we see … d'you still have the scar, sir?"
Harry nodded again, pulling back his bangs. Sunlight glinted off the angry red lightning bolt. "It's permanent, Mark. Doesn't go away. That's the thing, though," said Harry, meeting the boy's stare. The seriousness of Harry's expression struck Willow, just as it had in Diagon Alley. "I'm still here, and I have my scar, sure, but the guy who gave it to me? Gone. D'you know why?"
Mark shook his head.
"Because of what I learned in this room." Then Harry's gravity broke, and he smiled. Which, Willow decided, was a good thing, because half the class looked like they were about to bolt for the train station. "I don't think you guys will have to worry about anything like that, though. Most of what we're doing isn't even about dark wizards, right, Professor Rosenberg?"
"Oh! Right. Exactly … Professor Potter," she added with a grin. "In fact, we aren't even going to get to any of the dark wizard stuff until the winter. We're going to start on something a little more fun. Anybody wanna guess what that is?"
A half-dozen hands shot up, and Willow began to teach.
"Draco. Come in and sit down." Amelia Bones waved him to the seat in front of her desk, which he took gingerly. "I spoke with Albus at length this morning. It appears they had quite the evening at the school last night."
"Ginny and I dropped in. Everything seemed under control when we arrived."
"Yes, it was." She stared unblinking through her monocle. "So here you are. May I assume that you are well-prepared to make your case for pursuing your father?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Ever the polite aristocrat, aren't you Draco? Go ahead. Convince me."
Draco spoke for nearly five minutes, carefully explaining the advantage his knowledge of his father would provide and expounding on his past experience hunting the man. He eventually slowed, waiting for a verbal cue from her that she had heard him. When she offered none, he simply stopped speaking.
"You're quite finished?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
He nodded, aggravated. What else could he possibly say? It was all right there in front of her. He was the most qualified man for the job.
"Then the answer is no." She dismissed him by looking back at her papers.
"No?" The volume of his incredulous voice crept upwards.
Her head came back up. "I'm sorry, was there something else?"
"What d'you bloody mean, no?"
She sighed. "I mean, Draco, that no, you are not authorized to drop your current cases and chase after your father. You are to continue with the assignments you have, and another auror will be given the task. Which portion is unclear?"
"The reason behind that decision."
"The reason doesn't matter. If you knew what it was, the issue would be resolved. Good day."
He shot out of his seat like a rocket. "Fine. I quit."
That got her attention. "What?"
"I quit. I'll find him on my own." He spun around and went to the door. Her voice stopped him mid-step.
"If you even think about going after him without a mandate from this office, Draco Malfoy, I will see you incarcerated faster than you could possibly blink."
He glared at her silently.
"Furthermore, you are not resigning. I will not allow it, not to mention what Ginny and Kingsley will do. This is why I can't let you go after him, Draco. Look at yourself. You're acting like a complete lunatic, running around shouting at your partner and banging the walls of my office, no less. That's why I can't let you do this. It is far too personal. There's a conflict of interest here."
"No, there isn't."
"You didn't say a single word to me during your little speech that suggested the tiniest hint of objectivity. If you had, I would have said yes."
"Objectivity? Who gives a damn about that? You want him in jail. I want him in the damn ground. Objectivity has sod all to do with it!"
She set her square jaw and raised her eyebrows.
"Objectivity has everything to do with it. We are a law enforcement agency, not some carnival act. We acquit ourselves with professionalism. That is what separates us from the people we chase."
"I agree."
"So you see why I can't let you do this?"
"No. I see why you need me to do this." Before she could protest further, he kept talking. "He's as dangerous a bastard as there is on this planet, now that Potter sent Voldemort to hell in a handcart. There's no one, no one, except possibly Harry and Dumbledore, who could best him on his terms. They've got their own business to take care of." Amelia was stunned. She had never heard Draco call Harry Potter by his given name in the decade she had known them both. "He'll have all the advantages, Lucius will. He'll pick the time, the place, even the correlation of forces. Your only hope to beat him is someone who knows in advance what he'll do. An' I'm the only one who does, unless you want to go out and resurrect my mum. Somehow I doubt it."
Draco strode across the room and flattened his palms on her desk. Then he leaned over.
"How professional is it to lose? What's more important here: the possibility I might go round the bend a bit, or keeping alive all the people he's going to kill?"
The eye behind the monocle looked at him closely.
Then she nodded.
"Bring him in. Alive, if you can."
Draco stepped gingerly into the office he shared with Ginny. She lay sprawled in her chair, feet up on the desk and red hair completely askew. She had tossed her cloak on the old-fashioned rack in the corner and the end of a quill rested between her lips.
She looked gorgeous.
He stopped in the doorway to absorb the sight. Ginny let him be for thirty seconds.
"People are gonna wonder why you won't come in to your own office if you keep standin' there," she said without looking up.
"It's okay for me to come in, then?"
"You work here."
"Ah, the apathy. It's been quite a bit o' time since I made you that angry, eh?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"I s'pose I'll have to do something to make you care again." He eased into the room and shut the door, then he glided across the room and around her desk. His hand brushed the back of her neck lightly, dragging it across the soft alabaster skin beneath her hair.
She shivered involuntarily, but forced her eyes down onto the page.
Behind her, Draco smiled his serpent's smile and leaned down to press his lips against her ear.
"I'd like to apologize, Miss Weasley, for my insensitive and unfortunate slip of the tongue earlier. Perhaps if you'd allow me to make it up to you?"
His voice came out low and rough. She had never heard him use that tone outside of their bedroom, and in spite of herself she felt the sudden urge to throw him down on the desk and tear his robes off. Ginny had figured he would try something like this. Draco always went for seductive instead of apologetic. This time she was expecting it.
She kicked back from the desk and spun the chair around, narrowly missing a painful head to head impact. Then she leaped out of the chair, grabbed two handfuls of robe, and yanked as hard as she could. Draco gave in and let himself fall onto the desk, where Ginny promptly ground herself against him and licked the sensitive spot below his right ear.
"Drake?"
"Gin."
"Are you enjoying this?" The lobe of his ear gently bobbed between her lips with each word.
Draco wanted to moan. "Quite. Am I forgiven for being an ass?"
"Is she gonna let you do it?"
"Uh huh."
She rose up to eye level. "Good." She nipped his throat again. "You should be glad I kept my own place, you know?"
"Ginny, about that …"
"Because now I don't have to kill you so I can be home alone."
She rolled off the desk and picked up her cloak.
"I'm glad you got your new assignment, Draco. It'll keep you busy for the four or five hours a day you're not figuring out how to apologize. Don't wait up."
She threw on the cloak and left.
Draco dropped down into her chair, inhaling Ginny's scent as it coalesced around him.
"Well, that went bloody perfect, didn't it?"