Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: I had to edit this chapter as well to make it all correspond with the fifth book. I had to change quite a few things, but I will give a list of all that I changed at the beginning of the third chapter for all who are too lazy to reread it. Though as to why I am saying this here I am not quite sure... Anyhoo, I know the lyrics of the song don't really work, but they sort of do...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot lines that will be slowly revealed. Trust me. grin

We All Fall Down


Chapter 2

Sick Cycle Carousel

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Sick Cycle Carousel" by Lifehouse

o-o-o

It was a gloomy sort of day. The rain that had persisted all through the night had drenched the city of London. Large, dark puddles sat in every ditch in the road. The people persevered however, adapting to this none too peculiar weather. Umbrellas were in every hand, heavy sweaters and the likes to keep out the cold on every body.

Yet despite the chill, Harry Potter made his way swiftly through the crowds of Diagon Alley. But in the throngs of people, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. He knew he was being paranoid. People looked wistfully after him everyday. Probably even followed him as well, so why this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Resisting the urge to turn around and search the crowd for the perpetrator, Harry hastened his already quick steps. Gringotts was coming into view which meant there were only two blocks until he reached his destination: The entrance for the Ministry of Magic building. The road there was just as crowded and he knew that he was safe in a crowd. No one would dare attack him amongst so many witches and wizards.

Yet the tightening of his stomach muscles persisted. He had not felt such a sensation since-

"Harry!" someone called suddenly from his left. With a slight start the Boy Who Lived turned, preparing to see some hoodlum dressed in menacing clothing. He saw quite the opposite however.

"Ron," he greeted his tall red headed friend. The youngest Weasley son waded through the umbrella brandishing crowd to get to him, a broad smile on his face. "What's up?" he asked as the lean man came to a halt before him.

"Not too much," Ron replied with a shrug. "Just heading to HQ, how 'bout you?"

"Same," Harry replied and the two of them began to move through the crowd together. "New job then?" he asked after a moment.

"Sort of," the taller of the two responded. "They want me to help plan security for the World Cup next year. You know, the one you're supposed to be in."

Harry laughed. "We'll see about that." He would never get over his best friend's neurotic interest in Quiddtich. Not that he himself was much better. He had, after all, retired from the Aurors to become a professional player. But Ron took things to a different level. Borderline obsession if you asked him. And ever since Harry had got onto an international team Ron never neglected to bring it up. Some way or another it managed to be weaseled into their conversations.

"Oh come on," Ron said peevishly, the old team spirit he had had during their youth resurfacing once more. "You've pulled the Cannons out of the pits. Why not a world cup to boot?"

"Because I have a feeling Oliver's going to get there first," Harry grinned. "And you know we've never beaten his team"

As they rounded a corner their destination came into view. Unlike the entrance Harry had used to get into the Ministry building when he had first gone there with Mr. Weasley, the Diagon Alley version was much more impressive. And immaculate. The first time Harry had seen it, he had frankly been in shock. Now it was simply another destination. Sometimes he wondered where all his awe of the Wizarding World had gone.

"Wood's tactics are the same as the ones he used at Hogwarts," Ron said earnestly. "You'll beat him tomorrow, I know you will."

"Because you say so, right?" Harry asked innocently. They began to make their way up the two dozen steps to the main doors that loomed sixteen feet into the air. The feeling in his stomach spiked for a moment, startling him. Ron had provided a sound enough distraction that he had momentarily forgotten about it. Yet as he approached the massive building's doors it all came back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the red head demanded and Harry just smiled, trying to push the uneasy feeling from his mind.

"Never mind," he replied, a weak grin tugging at his lips. "You just make sure you cheer extra loud, so I can hear."

Ron Weasley frowned at him. "Whatever." He paused as they past through the building's threshold. "You're coming to Mum's birthday party, right?" he asked, changing the subject as the duo entered the lobby.

Harry noted how his friend did not say "my" mum, but rather simply mum. Molly Weasley had long ago insisted that Harry was a part of the family. She even had an arm on the Weasley clock attached for him. He considered it an honor far better than becoming Seeker for the Chudley Cannons or being honored for defeating Voldemort once and for all. It was an acceptance for who he really was, not simply what he was seen to be or what he had accomplished.

He glanced about the lobby, taking in how it looked just like he had seen it the first time. With the exception of the golden fountain that had been there before he had effectively destroyed it after Sirius' death. But it hadn't been just him after all, he had had the aid of Voldemort and Bellatrix as well. There was now just a pond in the old sculpture's place. The Ministry had been debating over what should take it's place, but had yet to find come to unanimous decision.

"Of course. Any idea what I should get her?" Harry asked, glancing at the individuals who were scattered about the palce. The sensation in his stomach was spiking once more. Yet none of the people present seemed to notice either of the men.

"I think we've got it taken care of," Ron replied offhandedly. Their shoes echoed slightly as they traversed the hardwood floor. "But I'll talk to you about that later. Why are you here any way? I just realized I never asked."

"Your sister wanted me to come in," Harry explained, fighting off the wave of depression that came with the words.

He wasn't exactly sure why he had gone to the woman's door in the first place. He had known that nothing would come of it. Still he had gone. Perhaps there had been too much alcohol in his system. Either way it was a rather embarrassing situation. The entire Weasley clan had found out about it quite quickly. Ginny must have mentioned something. Though most of the Weasley males had accepted the situation, Molly Weasley was still pitted on the idea of Harry and Ginny living happily ever after together. An ending Harry knew would never come.

"I still can't believe she said that to you though," Ron stated darkly. His posture shifted to show Harry the tell-tale sign of Weasley anger. The entire family held their shoulders differently when they were in rage. Ron's were the most noticeable of the lot. And Harry had had ample time to tell the difference. "I just don't know what has gotten into her lately."

"I don't think anyone does," Harry uttered darkly, his shoulders sagging. He had been stupid to think that Ron's little sister would have melted into his arms. She only had once before but that had been back at the beginning of it all.

The two old friends made the rest of their individual journeys in silence. Once at the elevators they went their separate ways, the red head heading to level seven, his duties as a freelance strategist calling once more. Yet as for Harry he traveled down to level nine, to the Department of Mysteries. To the hall that had haunted his dreams for almost an entire school year. He had sworn to himself after it had all passed that he would never come here again, yet here he was walking towards that damned door to get to the red head he had allowed to slip through his fingers.

Deep down in himself he knew she had been right the night he had visited her. Looking back he had noticed the signs yet had refused to acknowledge them. 'As stubborn as ever,' he thought bitterly.

A scream sliced down the silence of the hall, suddenly jarring his thoughts. It had been Ginny's scream. The same scream that haunted his dreams at night along with that of his mothers...

"Ah hell," he swore and bolted full speed down the hall towards Ginny's lab.

o-o-o

Draco Malfoy's eyes widened as Ginny Weasley sagged into him. Half her body pressing into his own, every inch of contact sending chills through his body as though the woman were made of ice. Instantly his arms flew up, supporting her by the lower back and shoulders, relishing in the peculiar sensation. For the briefest of instants he stood perfectly still, with her in his arms.

The reality returned to him.

"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself, looking down at the unconscious woman. He frowned down at her horrendously ugly hair color. "She's a Weasley."

Shifting his arms to grasp Ginny's shoulders, he violently tore her away from him, causing her head to loll to one side. He held her at arms length, noticing that his hands were experiencing the same sensation that the rest of his body had moments before. It was almost as though the woman had been sculpted from ice and covered in skin so you would think her a normal human. He shook the thought from his head.

"Weasley," he growled, shaking her none too gently in an attempt to wake her. He acted as though if he could cause the woman harm the feeling through his body would stop. That she would feel normal. "Weasley, wake up."

She did not respond in any way.

Draco looked at his enemy's younger sister, narrowing his eyes. The woman was pale and skinny, stretched out by her excessive height. He felt a sneer pull at his lips. 'She's no better than any of the rest of them,' he thought, his eyes travelling the length of her body. They came to rest at her chest.

The material had pulled away slightly to reveal a small portion of an odd sort of mark around where her heart should be. Curiosity piqued, he shifted the woman's weight so he could use his right hand to pull away the material fully.

He was carefully reaching out when the door behind him slammed open. He shot his hand back to the woman's other arm, concluding that he would simply have to find out what the mark was later. If there even would be a later.

He snapped his head about to see Harry Potter rushing into the room. It was as if the Weasley had called him to her when she had fainted. The raven haired man stopped quite suddenly when his eyes fell on the blonde in the center of the room.

"Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco stared at the man coolly as though it were common place to hold an unconscious woman in her own lab. "I was sent here on a research detail," he sneered. "Now come here and take this bloody thing away from me, Potter." He held the Weasley out to him.

Potter frowned at him, his lips twitching upwards in an almost sneer. It was a facial expression that Draco knew the other man could never achieve. Potter then looked down at the proffered unconscious body and seemed to push their rivalry from his mind. His eyes widened then began to dart about the room, reminding Draco of the times when they had played Quidditch back at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor's eyes moved so bloody fast, always calculating or dismissing.

The green behind the round glasses finally came to a rest and the man hurried forward in the direction of his gaze. A side bag was resting on a chair by the table Weasley had been behind. Potter went to it, opened it hastily and began to rummage through the contents. It took Draco a moment to realize that it was the red head's purse.

"You're a real piece of work, Potter," he sneered at the other man. "Damn klepto-"

"Save it," the other man snapped, withdrawing a small box from the bag. "Can you carry her?"

"What kind of-" Draco began.

"She doesn't have time for your arrogant bull shit, Malfoy," Potter snarled angrily, those green eyes flashing. "Either carry her or give her to me."

Draco glared at the other man then silently scooped the woman into his arms. She was lighter than he expected her to be. 'Underfed trash,' he thought darkly, sneering at Potter. The other man had opened the little box in his hands and held it out.

"Portkey," he said simply, following Draco's gaze as he stared at the small, golden globe contained within.

"I can see that," he growled.

"Good," the other said simply, grabbing one of Weasley's limp hands and grabbing the small globe at the same time. Before the box could fall to the ground Draco felt the usual tug at his navel and set his jaw.

He hated Portkeys. They always made him uneasy. That horrible feeling of being pulled about by Merlin knows what. And more often than not, Merlin knows where.

An instant later, Draco stumbled onto solid ground, Weasley still in his arms. They had materialized in a large white room. It seemed to be a waiting room of some sort. There were a few chairs, a fireplace with a roaring fire and a large receptions desk clear of clutter. All were vacant however. Potter straightened up beside him, seeming about ready to scream bloody murder.

There was no need however, for a woman came running around the corner to their right, a floating stretcher in tow. Draco recognized her short black bob and impish face instantly. Despite the fact that she now had sleek glasses before her startlingly tawny eyes she was still the same woman he had met while associating with the Order. 'Hestia Jones,' he thought mentally. 'One of the larger thorns in father's side.'

It had been this woman who had been one of the key players in thwarting Lucius Malfoy's first attempt to escape Azkaban. No one was quite sure what had exactly happened, but his old man had been recaptured and sent back. After that he had sworn that he would get the woman, though he apparently never got the chance for here she stood.

"It figures," the woman said darkly, hurrying towards them. "I haven't taken this shift in ages, and now that I do something happens." She stopped in front of Draco and frowned at him gently. "Put her down." She gestured towards the stretcher and he obliged without a moment's hesitation. The black haired woman then turned and whisked the Weasley off back the way she had initially come from. Draco stared after them.

"Alright Malfoy," Potter said suddenly, causing the blonde to turn and look at him. "I need to know exactly what Ginny said before she collapsed."

Draco stared at the Boy Who Lived for a moment, weighing his options. He had no idea as to what was going on. The suspicious side of him feared that what ever he said could somehow be used against him. The Slytherin side. Yet deep in his stomach he felt the encounter had been far too odd to be pinned on him directly. This was the Protector in him speaking. A voice that had taken years to trust.

"First I want to know what is going on, Potter," he sneered, narrowing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, to voice his views on why he should not trust the man. But he never got the chance.

"I don't care what you want," Potter snapped so violently that Draco's eyes almost widened with shock. He hadn't heard the other man speak like that in ages. But then, he hadn't been around him that much either. "Lives are on the line, Malfoy. Now tell me, what did Ginny say?"

Draco paused. "She said that it couldn't be happening again," he finally complied, not fully aware as to why. He owed nothing to this man. If anything, it was the other way around. "And that it was over." He paused once more, frowning. "And then she said your name."

Potter stopped moving and stood perfectly still. "My name?" he asked, all emotion draining from his voice and face. His posture seemed numb.

"That's what I said," Draco snapped. "Now what-"

"Harry," the woman who had left moments before called, returning to the room they occupied. "You don't think that it's really happening again? There is no way that he could be back. You killed him."

"I know," Potter said darkly, something passing across his face. Draco knew the man was restraining something. It was an experience he knew well himself. "But why else would she collapse like that?"

The confusion within Draco was growing. So was the annoyance. It had always been a fault of his to be impatient, or so his father had said. He hated situations where he did not know what was going on or that he had to wait for information to find out. And at the moment all he knew was that a member of the Weasley family had collapsed into him and now Potter and Jones were involved. Involved and going on as though the apocalypse was upon them all.

It's coming back Draco. Darker and more terrible than the last times. His mother's voice echoed in his head. And this time the little girl won't be able to stop it. 'There can't be a connection,' he thought silently, the pressure of dread beginning to press down on his heart. There had been times in his past when his mother had been able to predict things. Scrapped knees, falling out of trees, what the radio would say next. He had always assumed it to be mother's intuition. But now-

"Who is it?" Hestia Jones asked earnestly, interrupting the blonde's thoughts. "Who is going to be the first? If he really is back I mean."

Draco now focused in on her words, hoping that they would bring him some clarity on the situation. That perhaps what he thought to be the "first" was completely off in left field. Even if it did appeared to be Potter himself.

"Me," the other man replied simply.

"No," the woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The light of the fire catching at a simple gold band on her ring finger, making it seem more than it was. "They can't- There's no way-"

Emotion was still devoid from Potter's face. It was rather disconcerting from Draco's perspective. He never could, nor would, get used to the other man's dark side. He had brushed against it during his school years and had always silently dreaded a full encounter.

"It makes sense," Potter said quietly, with a slight shrug. "If they want to make a comeback, why not take down the one who supposedly defeated them for good in the first place?"

"But they can't," the woman repeated.

"What the hell is going on?" Draco demanded suddenly. The entire scenario had become cumbersome. He wanted to know exactly what was going on and he was sick of waiting for the two of them to turn to him and explain in full. If forcing it out of the two individuals before him was the only way, then that was what was going to happen. "Who are "they"?"

Both Potter and Jones turned to him, annoyance and surprise respectably on their faces.

"Who do you think?" Potter demanded. "Who keeps being defeated only to return a few years later, stronger than ever?"

"Voldemort?" Draco offered. But then- "But you defeated him. The prophecy said you would." Something else occurred to him. "And how does Weasley know?"

The two of them looked at Draco as though he had simply stated that humans have tails. After a moment, Potter's eyes began to fill with a triumphant glee that Draco did not like in the slightest.

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked quietly. Draco was about to say something caustic but the raven haired man continued. "You joined our side and they never told you. I never thought Dumbledore had it in him to lie."

"What does Dumbledore have to do with any of this?" the blonde demanded. Not so pleasant memories began to present themselves in his mind's eye. I don't want to be anything like my father… My dear boy, you have never shown any evidence of the contrary. Had they really not trusted him? Had the Order always thought him to be some sort of mole? A mole for his father and the Dark Lord? He felt anger begin to rise at the mere thought.

"Do you remember," Potter began after a short snort. "At the beginning of our seventh year? How people across Europe begun to receive owls?" Draco frowned. At first they had been a rumor. He had never seen any proof to their existence. Not a shred until one landed on his window sill, late one January night. "How they would-"

"HARRY!" Weasley's voice sliced through the air, echoing down the hall. Draco started slightly while Jones jumped several inches. Potter's eyes grew wide in shock. An instant later both he and Jones were barreling down the hall to where the unconscious woman had been taken.

Draco found he was hot on their heels. Not quite aware as to why it would matter to him what the woman had been screaming about. But follow him he did, curiosity seeming to take control of his usual reserved self. 'I'm going insane,' Draco concluded in his head as the two people before him hurried through an open door that had been around the corner.

Weasley was sitting straight up on the bed she had obviously been place. Her partly exposed chest heaving heavily while her back was perfectly straight. Her long hair hung down about her, creating a veil of red that obscured her features. Yet under it Draco could just make out that her skin was as pale as death. Her chocolate brown eyes were circular, darting about the room, completely ignoring the matron who was attempting to calm her.

Her posture was far too familiar in Draco's eyes. It began to bring back memories of when this entire landslide if a lifestyle had begun. The Weasley's eyes fell on the three of them through her veil of hair.

"Cancel the Quidditch match," she demanded shrilly, staring directly at Potter.

"What? Ginny I can't-" the other man began to stutter.

"Cancel the Quidditch match, NOW!" Weasley practically screamed, flinging her head back, forcing the hair from her face. The woman beside him gasped as the trickle of blood out of the corner of Weasley's eye was revealed.

Potter looked on in horror, his mouth opening and closing, making silent words.

"NOW!" the woman screamed once more. With a sudden swirl of his cloak, the black haired man turned and quickly headed back the way he had come.

Draco stared at the woman in awe. He never would have thought her capable of such vehemence. Her sharp tongue from before had been a bit of a surprise but it made sense since she had so many brothers. But this- This was borderline insanity. An instability of the mind with a deep desperation of some sort.

'How many people must be driven mad by that bastard?" he found himself wondering as he observed the woman from where he stood. Minutes went by in a blur of flurried thought and anguish. It was almost like a nightmare. The situation was far too similar that it began to drag up all the memories and constant reminders. We do not know what is wrong... Her mind is simply gone... We do not know how it is possible…

A shift in the air brought Draco from his memories. Forcing himself to turn he saw Potter return to stand a short distance away. Draco took a step towards him.

"Alright Potter," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "What the fuck is going on?"

Potter looked at him as though he were some disgusting insect. "Don't you see, Malfoy?" he spat. His lips curled back to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth. "Ginny's the one who sent all those owls. Ginny's the one who saw all of Voldemort's victims. And now the bastard's back and she has to live that hell all over again."

"She's…" Draco trailed off, staring at the pale woman in a new light. He never imagined it could have been a Weasley behind it all. Let alone Potter's scrawny girlfriend. From what he could remember the way she had been back then made him believe that she would have cracked. "She's the one with the Snitch signature?"

"Yes," Potter snarled. "And as I understand it, you-"

His voice was drowned out as Weasley's scream penetrated Draco's brain once more. Every occupant of the room stopped in their tracks and stared. The red head began to wither on the bed, her voice cutting off in her throat.

"How can she have another one so soon?" the matron who had been in the room when they had arrived asked from bedside the bedded woman.

Potter walked up to the bed. Crouching down beside it he grabbed the red head's hand. She rolled her head up to look at him, eyes wide with fear. Draco wondered briefly as to what she could have seen that was so terrible.

"Who is it?" Potter asked gently, stroking her hand.

"I didn't think it was possible," she whispered. "I never dreamed-" she paused to take a shuddering breath.

"Who is it?" Potter asked again.

"Me."

o-o-o

"I don't believe it. I refuse to believe it. My daughter will not have to suffer through that hell once more. Look at the result of it all, she barley lives her life. She just sits in that office of hers all day!"

The voice faintly echoed through her mind. It was soft as though it had traveled a far distance to greet her ears. The voice was full of worry and distress that pulled at her heart. She briefly wondered who they were talking about. Yet she felt it would be improper to eavesdrop, even if she had no idea who they were.

"Believe what you will, Arthur," another voice replied reasonably. "But the fact of the matter is that Voldemort has returned. And with his return your daughter must once again aid our side. No matter the cost."

There was a pause and in it she pondered what had been said. The one man's name was Arthur, just like her own father. And they were talking about Voldemort. But they couldn't be talking about that. No, they couldn't.

"There's something not right about the whole thing," another voice said suddenly. This one was female.

"What do you mean?" The man named Arthur asked. The worry in his voice was increasing.

"She's receiving the similar wounds of the victims she sees," the female voice replied.

She wondered what that could mean. She had never even pondered the possibility before. It would have driven her mad.

"How is that possible?" the man asked.

"I don't know. But when she saw her own death I was so scared for her that I had her sedated."

Now she was getting worried. It seemed the girl they were talking about lived a life that paralleled her own. And to be sedated would explain why all around her was darkness. Why she couldn't move…

"She saw her own death!" Arthur demanded. His voice was shrill yet it still held an authority to it that sounded vaguely familiar.

"Yes sir." Another voice responded. It was a younger voice from the others. "First mine then her own."

There was a soft thump. She thought it sounded like someone falling into a chair. If she could have, she would have herself. It was uncanny. There was no way it was a coincidence. They were not just talking about anyone. They were talking about her. Ginny Weasley. She wanted to scream.

"I still don't see how it is possible for her to have seen it at all." The female voice spoke once more. It seemed so familiar to Ginny, but she couldn't quite place it. "None of our studies ever showed any indication…"

"It makes sense in a way," the second voice she had heard said after a moment. She could not discern who it could be. "What ever is causing these visions must still need her to see them. If she dies so do the hopes of all those poor souls."

There was another pause.

"This must mean that they know who she is," the voice that could only be her father's spoke sullenly.

"But I still don't understand how he can be back to know!" It was the younger voice again. And if she had seen his fall, he could only be Harry. "And how could they all still be around, loyal to him? It's been seven years! What about the prophecy? I killed him!"

"Prophecies have been known to be wrong," the old and weary voice said softly. "Apparently this one is as well and now we have to deal with the consequences." There was a pause. "I am suspecting that they haven't known that it was her for very long, otherwise they most likely would have gotten her out of the way before he returned. How ever he may have brought it about."

There was another long pause.

"Well there is obviously nothing we can do about it at the moment," her father's voice once again broke the silence.

"You are right," the wise voice said slowly. "All that matters at the moment is that Ginny Weasley is kept safe. We will deal with the rest tomorrow."

"I suppose that is why I am here," a voice said good-naturedly. She knew she would have no hope in knowing who it belonged to. There was far too much authority in it for her to recognize properly.

"Yes," the aged voice agreed. "She will need protecting."

"And it won't be easy," Harry's voice rang once more. "She's stubborn. She won't want the help. Even if she is at the edge of her life she'll still refuse."

"Sounds like someone I know," the unfamiliar voice said pointedly.

"And she will need constant observation," the woman said in a commanding voice. "If these new conditions persist I fear they could become hazardous to her life."

"A Protector then?" the unknown voice asked simply. Someone must have nodded for there were no words voiced for a long stretch of time. She wondered what they were doing. "I am afraid there are few in number at the moment. Most are over seas for various reasons that I can not reveal." Another pause. "And the one's in country I would not trust with such an important task." Another pause. It was almost as though the man was checking something or in deep thought.

"There must be someone," her father said finally.

"There is, but I know you will not like it, Minister," the voice said slowly. Yet another pause. "The only man who can take care of your daughter properly would be Malfoy here."

There was a choking noise. Then stunned silence. Ginny felt her ears ring. She felt like she was falling within her head.

"There is no way in hell," Harry's voice suddenly boomed, startling Ginny as she began to plummet faster. She felt her decent stop. "That I will let Malfoy watch over her!"

"I hate to say it," another new voice sneered. It could only have been Malfoy. She felt a slight sense of surprise that he was present at all. "But I agree with Potter on this. I will not watch over a Weasley. It's bad enough that I have to work with her. And what about my research detail anyway?"

"You are still on it," the unfamiliar voice said darkly. "And you will be watching Miss Weasley as though your life depended on it, Malfoy, or else I will make sure you will never work in the Wizarding World as anything more than a janitor."

There was another stretch of silence.

"Well I suppose refusing isn't an option then," she heard Malfoy mutter.

"It bloody well isn't."

"Fine," her father's voice said sharply. "What ever it takes to keep her safe."

"But I'll warn you right now," Harry's voice suddenly hissed through her mind. "If you hurt her, Malfoy, I swear, I don't care what side of the war you are on, I'll kill you."

o-o-o

Ginny Weasley awoke with a start. She stared up at the ceiling blankly, at a complete loss as to where she was. The only sound in the room was her heavy breathing and the rain once again pounding on the window.

Slowly her surroundings began to make sense. She was lying in her bed, deep under the soft covers. 'It was all a dream,' she thought with a sigh of relief. 'All a terrible dream.'

Voldemort was not back. Harry had not required saving. She did not see herself die. Did not feel it. She did not need Malfoy's protection. All she had to worry about was getting to work on time and continue her research.

With a disgruntled sigh she sat up. Yet stopped herself from getting out of bed for something did not sound right. Her pajamas were too noisy. Looking down at herself she took a double take. She was still dressed in her clothes from the day before.

Reaching up, she gently touched her eye. It was bleeding once again.

"No," she moaned. "No, this- this is all wrong. This can't be real. I'm still dreaming." She pinched her forearm until she drew blood.

Ginny did not wake up.

"No," she moaned again.

Ginny wondered, not for the first time in her existence, why her life was so terrible. A sick and twisted cycle that never seemed to end. Continuous circles, linking and growing as her life wore on. She had a dreaded feeling that this cycle might be her last. That this one might be too much for her battered soul and end it all.

'One can only wish,' she thought idly, wringing the summer blankets in her hands.

Ginny did not want it to happen again. She did not want to be rapped of what little she had left. To have to dedicate her life to the Order of the Phoenix once more. Be their bloody messenger while they took all the credit for her suffering. While she died again and again…

She groaned again, dreading what was to come with all her might. There was a knock at the door, pulling her from her fears of the future. It sounded almost refrained. Dejected. A moment later it was opened. Ginny's spirits dropped further as a tall blonde entered the room. He stared at her with narrow eyes. Resentful eyes.

Ginny narrowed her own eyes, letting some of the anguish and hate in her system poke through. "Fuck off, Malfoy," she snarled, sitting up straighter on the bed.

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I don't think that is possible," he sneered. "Now shut up and listen. I want to go to bed." He glared at her. Idly Ginny wondered just how long she had been asleep for. 'I hope it was a long time,' she thought bitterly, glaring at the man before her who had always belittled her and tormented her family and friends. She forced herself to ignore his good looks.

"Until you are relieved of my charge you are to go no where without me if you wish to continue living your obviously pathetic life." He looked arrogantly around her room, as covered in clothes and books as it was. "You are not to use any forms of communication with out my say. You are also to tell no one of what I really am. For all anyone cares we're old friends or some shit like that. Got that?"

Ginny nodded, resisting the urge to scream. She wasn't being protected, she was being controlled. And she had this feeling inside her that Malfoy was going to push his dictorial authority as far and as hard as he could just to spite her. She frowned.

"As far as the outside world is concerned there is nothing out of the ordinary happening in your life." 'I wish,' she callously thought. "And you will act as so. It is not only your life on the line if you fail, Weasley. As you have probably been reminded often enough, seeing your idiotic background. All the lives of the people Voldemort will attempt to kill are in your hands."

"You do not need to remind me of that," Ginny snapped violently. Kicking the covers away, she rolled onto her feet, walking over to him. She ignored the heat that seemed to radiate off of him, even in his callous state. "I know far better than anyone gives me credit for." She stopped feet from him. "And I do not require you to make assumptions about things you do not understand. You are my fucking bodyguard and that is the only purpose you will serve in my life. I do not need an extra conscience or an advisor on what I should or shouldn't do with my gift," she spat the word at him. "And I most certainly do not need the likes of you telling me the things that everyone seems to take such pride and malicious enjoyment in telling me."

Malfoy glared down at her, her speech seeming to have had little effect on him. "Talk like that will get you killed," he hissed. "And it will not happen on my watch."

"Pity," she replied darkly.

His eyes narrowed further, looking at her calculatingly through dark lashes. Ginny glared back. "If I didn't know better, Weasley," he said after a minute. "I would think you did not want to be saved."

'Perhaps your better judgement should take a back seat,' Ginny resisted the urge to say. It would not do to make herself out to be suicidal. She had a duty to the world. She knew it. She would not fail them. So instead she silently glared back.

Malfoy said no more, only glared at her with his blue-grey eyes. His emotionless, cold eyes.

Ginny finally looked away.

She turned and walked over to the dresser where there was a box of Kleenex. Retrieving one she began to dab at the blood from her eye. A side effect that was completely new to her. She turned back to Malfoy was staring at her expressionlessly. She balled the tissue in her hand.

"I take it you are staying here then," she sighed, a wave of tiredness overcoming her. He looked about to say something nasty. She continued before he got the chance. "Then you can stay in the study."

She walked out of the room and into the hall. The left side lead to her sitting room and kitchen while the right lead to the study beside her own room and the bathroom. She went to the study, her most favored room, and opened the door. The room was dark as night, the window across from the door having no light to offer.

She felt for the light switch on the wall and finding it, illuminated the relatively large room with the Muggle lights. The familiar desk bellow the window covered in parchments and books greeted her and she smiled inwardly. There was no helping her; she was as disorganized as it was possible to be.

She stepped in, Malfoy close behind. The man looked around in disgust.

"Don't you ever clean this place?" he said in distaste, eyes fixed on the books piled about the floor.

"No," she replied simply.

With a wave of her wand, she sent all the books on the floor to rest haphazardly on the already full bookshelves. She momentarily debated getting a few more of them. Then turning to the couch in the right corner of the room, she waved her wand once more, causing the hidden bed within to come out, freshly pressed sheets and all. Ginny loved Wizarding IKEA. She turned to the man beside her.

"Bathroom's right across the hall," she said to him. "I leave for work at eight. Be ready or I leave without you." She moved to leave the room, closing the door behind her. Malfoy's voice stopped her.

"I forgot to mention," he said silkily. "You are not to lock any door in this place." He smirked at her horrified face. "In case something happens." He then closed the door for her.

'Fucking pervert,' she thought darkly, glaring at the closed door. 'Just wants to catch me with my knickers down.' She shuddered at the thought, and wanted to open the door once more and tell him off. Another wave of tiredness overcame her however, the weight of the day and all its horrible implications hitting home.

Quickly getting ready for the night, she crawled into her bed once more. It wasn't as soft as it had been before. She lay there, listening to the sounds of the night. She could hear Malfoy moving around in the hall. She felt her throat tighten.

'What a wonderful world this is,' she thought bitterly, rolling into a ball beneath the covers. It was the same position she had put herself into after her first premonition. The premonition that had cost her his life.

Memories rushed back into her consciousness. Memories that she never allowed herself to see. The ones she kept locked down tight. Everywhere he looked there was smoke and fire... There was no escape... He screamed.

Ginny let out a strangled sob. Why didn't you believe me? Why did you let him die!

Another sob, the tears began to spill over her eyelids. We didn't know. We couldn't know…

o-o-o

A/N: Well there you have it. More hints and beaten ideas that weren't fully revealed. What does it mean? It means you will have to wait for the next chapter to find out what is really going on. The D/G action should be coming very soon. I just had to lay the foundation before the fun could start. So yes, hang tight and you will receive.

So, what is with Draco and his unexplained memories? Who is the "him" Ginny is crying over? What will Harry end up doing for Mrs. Weasley's B-Day present? And will Ron fall in love with a block of cheese? All that and more coming soon!

Many thanks to: Cassie, Zuzu, Sayo, hasapi(You know, I don't think anyone has ever been so considerate. Thanks), sabacat(I've done worse. I will do worse), Rivenloe, kmf, Lee Velviet(I won't consider it pressure if you hurry up on DR. Please? And I will try my best.), Lallie(See, I told you I can't explain worth shit. If you tell I'll eat your liver! And you better be screaming that they use those hockey sticks!), VirtualFaerie(Gah. You were close. Verrrry close), dinky and fyrechild(When did I say I was not going to finish it?)