We All Fall Down

by Tiny Q

Voldemort’s back despite the prophecy and Ginny is the first to know. She is the only one who can protect his intended victims and Voldemort will do anything to stop her. Considering the stakes, why does her family hire Draco, to protect her? D/G

3. Fine Again

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: Well, this didn't take me very long, now did it? Ha. But yes, I know not many people are liking this but I am writing it for myself. I have put far too much thought into it to just let it fall away. And besides, there are some scenes in the next few chapters that I really want to write. Anyhoo, with the arrival of OotP I had to change things a bit. Luckily I only got out two chapters before the book or I would have changed a lot more. So now, for all you lazies out there, a break down of what I adjusted:

o- Harry was more surprised over Voldy's return

o- Arabella Figg was replaced by Hestia Jones(From the rescue mission) – I suspected Figgy was going to be part of Harry's protection, I just never considered her to be a Squib

o- Arthur Weasley's less abrasive

o- And that's really about it. I redid a few scenes that I really hated, but I can't very well explain them all. Bah

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and all characters that are not from Harry Potter.

We All Fall Down

Chapter 3

Fine Again

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Fine Again" by Seether

o-o-o

The sound of the crowd bellow was deafening. Draco could hear them pounding in his ears. Gryffindor had just scored. He could see his teammate's sneers from where he flew high above them.

Moments later they scored their own ten points. The crowd not as loud this time. But Draco could tell that something was wrong. Yet it was not lack of enthusiasm that was suddenly bothering him. He was much more disturbed by the fact that his hearing was blinking. As though his head were being pulled above and bellow a wave of water.

He looked around, as though searching for the person who was hexing him. The world spiraled. There were two Potters staring at him from across the pitch. Four Weasleys flying around in his head.

His head lolled forward then rolled from side to side. He felt his broom fall away from him, leaving the ground to rush up towards him. The wind all the while howling and screaming in his ears.

Draco Malfoy was unconscious before he hit the ground.

o-o-o

Draco awoke with a start, spreading his arms out as though to stop himself from falling. He sat up slowly, pulling his knees to his chest, dropping his head on them as he struggled to forget what he had seen.

It had been the incident that had started everything. That terrible series of incidents that happened one after the other relentlessly until he thought things could get no worse. They always did.

He had often found himself wondering what life would be like if it never happened. Where exactly he would be. Who would be alive because of it. Who would be dead...

Draco silently shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of such idealistic thoughts. 'If it didn't happen then,' he growled in his mind. 'Then it simply would have happened later on. It was inevitable that father would have eventually found out.'

The sound of a door opening dragged the young man out of his thoughts. 'Weasley,' he mused. He once again looked about the room he had been placed in with disgust. To him it was a disgrace, an anomaly that would never have been seen in his family's manor. He heard her footsteps pad down the hall. The clack of slippers on hardwood.

That was the problem with this residence. Every sound could be heard through out. He doubted that Weasley knew that otherwise he knew she would not have cried. He had heard her. He had no idea how long it had gone on for, but it had disturbed him. A simple, quiet sound had disturbed him, Draco Malfoy. And yet it had been so heart wrenching, so desperate that he now suspected that had been the stimulus that brought the memory turned nightmare back to the surface of his mind.

The shower turned on.

He sighed and dragged himself out of bed, looking around for his belongings. He had gone home the night before and left them at the foot of his bed. This was all old news as far as he was concerned. Old cumbersome news. The same situation, simply a different location and pretty face. 'Not pretty,' he thought darkly, pulling open his trunk with repressed violence.

'This is the last time,' he suddenly concluded, surprising himself in a way. He had never really considered retiring from his career seriously. He had always had it in the back of his mind that it should happen, but as to when had always been up in the air. Yet it seemed to have all come out into the light, in a quick and startling way. He didn't want to be doing this for the rest of his life. He didn't want to live his life for another person's, just as he had for his father.

It suddenly occurred to him then at just what had caused him to come to this sudden decision. It had been the dream, he was sure of it. It just made everything he thought that he had down pact seem so stupid. Sure, his work as a Protector was stimulating; it kept him on his toes, but at what price? Now that he really thought about it, he wasn't doing this work to protect people, but rather he was doing it to protect himself. To make himself seem superior to someone else who was terrified and in need. Now that he thought about it, he was disgusted.

He had been using people. Using them to make himself better than what he was. He had been playing with their lives for the sake of his own. And he had never realized it until now. And it disgusted him.

He violently tore his clothing and toothbrush from his trunk, slamming the lid closed as though wishing he could close it on something else. Perhaps himself, but he wasn't sure.

The question now, however, was what was he going to do? He couldn't simply pack up and leave the Weasley woman to fend for herself, no matter how much he hated her and her family. There was more than the Weasley's happiness on the line now. No, and somehow he had been landed with the job of basically protecting the protector of the Wizarding world. It was rather surreal now that he thought about it. And he didn't even want to be there. In fact, he could quit and it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Conditions would make him stop soon anyway. Stop everything.

'It would be funny,' he thought with slight amusement, tossing his belongings to the ground and moving to make the bed. 'If I wasn't a part of it.' He tugged the sheets with frustration, a sudden, bitter thought crossing his mind, 'If only father could see me now.' He tugged some more. 'Living in a Weasley's home and protecting her life. He would probably laugh until he had tears in his eyes.' He paused, smoothing out the comforter. 'Then he would kill me.'

The shower turned off causing a sudden change of atmosphere, making Draco's ears ring at the silence and to bring him out of his revere. He shook his head. He had been thinking too much lately. Not that he didn't have reason not to, but if he kept this going the way it was, he would slip up. He would slip up and regardless of whether he was going to quit or not, he would still be responsible for the deaths of more than just Weasley.

Standing up straight and looking down on the newly made bed yet another thought occurred to him. Why had he been the one that Shaw had chosen to guard the woman? He knew for a fact that there were several other Protectors available. More qualified ones as far as Draco was concerned, but then, he would say anyone would be more qualified as long as he wouldn't have to deal with red headed creatures. Yet Shaw had lectured Draco but hours before of how he should take it easy and not strain himself, and then here he is, forcing Draco to take the assignment. And it was going to be a difficult assignment to say the least. 'Especially if Voldemort is truly back and wishes this woman's death with all his might,' he thought darkly, turning and opening the door to his temporary room.

The door opposite his own opened at about the same time, steam issuing forth from it. Weasley walked out clad in a fuzzy white house coat, clutching a bundle of clothes to her chest. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Morning," she said simply, walking past him and leaving the steaming bathroom to him. He frowned after her but made no attempt to say anything. He didn't have anything worth saying.

About twenty minutes later, Draco was dressed and ready to face the day; his wand snuggled safely in his pocket. He strode into the kitchen, expecting to see the red headed owner already there, perhaps eating or simply reading the paper. Yet she was not there eating and the paper lay unread on the island. He moved towards it and glanced over the front page. There was nothing of interest, no cries of Voldemort's return, no demands that a search for Death Eaters begin. He frowned slightly.

"You know if you keep your face like that it might get stuck," a voice said bitterly from the entrance of the kitchen. He turned to see Weasley standing in the doorway, clad all in black. "And I really don't want to have to stare at that for the rest of this wondrous event."

"Well at least we would be even then," he drawled back, eyeing her slowly and deliberately. "You can't seriously expect me to find enjoyment in staring at you."

"You're pathetic," she spat, frowning at him as though he were an insect too pitiful to be squashed and strode into the room. She glanced at the paper as she passed by, but ignored it to pull open a cupboard. There was a selection of colorful boxes contained within. She stared at them, seeing to debate over something.

"So what do you have to eat in this place?" he asked her, trying to keep his voice civil. There was still a sneer in it, but the woman didn't seem to take heed.

"You probably won't like any of it," the red headed woman said with a slight sigh, still staring at the various boxes. "It's all Muggle."

"Why would you want to eat only Muggle food, Weasley?" he drawled at her, seating himself on one of the tall stools about the island. "Are you too poor to afford the good stuff?"

"Certainly not," she said sharply, turning around to face him, a scowl on her face. "It's just different from what I grew up on." She frowned. "Besides, it's rather good."

He stared at her, not sure he was liking what he was seeing. 'Is this what I'm going to have to live with?' he wondered in slight despair. 'An arrogant and spoiled Weasley who only eats Muggle food? Voldemort better role over and die right now or I think I might have to do something rash.'

It took him a moment to realize that the woman was staring at him funny.

"So what is this so called food you have to offer?" he asked, not wanting her to stare any longer.

"Well," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. "There's some cereal in the cupboard here or some yogurt in the fridge." Each time she gestured with lucid movements of her hand and after a moment the scent of her perfume caught at his nostrils. The movements of her hands seemed to convey a sense of leadership ability within her that he doubted that she knew existed. But then she was the lead researcher. "Or there's toast. Though you'll have to fight with the toaster if you want some, 'cause I'm not cooking you food."

"You wound me, Weasley," he sneered at her, making sure she saw his rolling eyes. "What are you having?"

"Cereal," she replied, finally reaching up and pulling down a bright red box. As she moved to the left and pulled a bowl from another cupboard, he saw that there was an image of a ridiculous looking bird in the front of the box.

"Fruit Loops?" he asked in incredulously.

"So?" she asked rather stubbornly, striding towards him and taking the seat beside him. "Do want any or are you going to go for something else? I don't really care what you do as long as you do it quickly. I have to be at work in twenty minutes."

"Nothing like leaving things to the last minute," he muttered, as he got up and moved towards the tall white thing she had said contained the yogurt. That sounded safe enough to his ears.

A tapping noise, however, stopped him. Without saying anything to her, he turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the main sitting room. Looking towards the window the familiar sound of beak hitting glass was confirmed by a large barn owl sitting on the ledge, asking to be let in.

He walked over to the window and opened it, allowing the bird in. It was a traditional Owl Post owl, the little strap of signification on the bird's small ankle. It dropped a manila envelop in his hands and flew off before Draco could even think of paying it. He looked down on the letter.

Draco and Ginny

The words were written neatly in the center of the envelope in a swirly, girlish sort of font. Ignoring the implications, he opened the envelope and looked at the single parchment inside.

Draco and Ginny,

I have to keep this short, for obvious reasons. There is going to be a meeting at the usual location today at nine o'clock this morning. We need to discus what's going on and how it is going to be dealt with. And Gin, I hope that you are doing well, but I'll talk to you about that when I see you.

Hermione

"I don't think you'll need to worry about being late, Weasley," Draco called, walking back towards the kitchen, still staring down on the short letter. "It seems you're going to be at a meeting instead."

"What do you mean," she asked, looking up from what appeared to be a bowl of colorful rings submerged in milk. He frowned in disgust.

She got up, ignoring her food, and reached out for the letter he had just read. She read over it rather quickly then glanced at the envelope. "How quaint," she said darkly. "She put your name first."

"Well Ginny and Draco does sound awkward," he said with a smirk, only rewarding him in a glare and a smack from the letter itself.

Draco walked past her and opened the door of the fridge, and glanced about it. The space was rather empty and he didn't find it very difficult to discover what he was looking for. He then went and got a spoon from where Weasley herself had gotten one from. He leaned back against the counter then, eating his oddly bitter breakfast.

"So where is this usual place?" he asked Ginny, who had reseated herself at the island and had gone back to eating her food with a frown on her face. She looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked him, a look on her face that told Draco she thought the question was off the wall. "You were part of the Order, were you not? It's at Grimmauld Place as it had been for the duration of the Second War."

Draco could feel himself staring at her. They had had a designated meeting place? But he had always just met with single members in random places. Had Potter been right? Had they really not trusted him? Not even with the location of their strong hold? Weasley seemed to figure this out.

"You were never there, were you?" she asked quietly, looking at him as though trying to figure something out. "I don't remember ever seeing you there now that I think about it. When did you join?"

"Half way through my sixth year," he replied, staring down into his yogurt cup. How could he have not have figured this out after all these years? How could he have let himself be used by them? If this was all true, then they had simply used him for information when he had tried to help. They never had trusted him after all...

Ginny let out a hiss that caused Draco to look up. There was a look of disgust on the woman's face. Her eyes met his and he was surprised to see resentment in them.

"I can't believe them," she sneered, glaring at him slightly. "How dare they use people like that?"

"Like what?" Draco found himself asking. He had been expecting a gloating sort of response from the red head far from the seemingly vengeful one he had received. What else had this Order done to other people?

"Never mind," she responded after a moment, her eyes seeming to cloud over with something Draco couldn't quite figure out. She stood up after a moment and dropped her bowl into the sink beside him. "Let's just go and get this over with then."

Draco frowned further as she turned and walked out of the kitchen and back into her room. Yet he never got a chance to think as she returned a moment later, a small box clasped in her hand. Draco looked at it. He knew what it was before she told him it was a Portkey. He was beginning to get the feeling that there was a small collection about this woman's belongings.

She opened it and held it out. "Let's go." He reached out when she did and let his finger drop onto the object, setting his jaw as the usual pulling at his naval greeted his sense. Closing his eyes, he allowed the magical forces to pull him about, trying to ignore the implications of where he might end up. Seconds later he flet his feet hit the ground.

Opening his eyes, he looked about to see that he was standing in the middle of an empty lot, residing in a rundown neighborhood. There seemed nothing special about it, which meant there really was something about it. He turned questioning eyes to Ginny and she simply shrugged, pulling her red hair from her face. Then she turned away from him once more and led the way towards a house that slowly appeared out of nowhere as they approached. It was just as run down as the neighborhood.

Ginny strode up the steps to the door and rapped on it three times, not even bothering to check if he was with her. Draco felt irritation at this. What was the point of a Protector if she walked into things without his ok? He strode up to stop beside her and was just about to educate her about these facts when the door opened.

"Ginny!" a pink haired woman squeaked, pulling the woman into a hug over the threshold of the house. Then she released her, allowing Draco see that the woman was pregnant or extremely fat. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Come in, come in. Everyone's almost here." Both Draco and Ginny moved into the dingy house. Draco looked about the dust in disgust. 'Perhaps it was a good thing that I was never invited here,' he thought darkly, taking in the decaying surroundings. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I wouldn't call a month ages, Tonks," the red head laughed, tossing her hair and sending its sent wafting towards Draco. He tried not to scrunch his face in disgust, feeling that by the time this was over he was going to loath the scent of raspberries. Ginny grinned and pointed to the older woman's stomach. "How much longer?"

"About a month," the woman cooed, as a man walked up behind her. Draco instantly recognized him as his old professor. The werewolf. "But I can tell you right now, I can't wait till this thing decides to come out. It's wreaking havoc on my abilities."

"I've never seen her change so into many shapes in one day," the werewolf said to Ginny, shaking her hand then pulling her into a hug. "So I recommend you don't take it personal, or you'll go insane. I've already stopped noticing."

The woman named Tonks stuck her tongue out at her apparent husband, and he just smiled back. She then turned her attention to Draco.

"You must be the Protector," she said politely, offering her hand. Draco took it. "I'm Nymphadora Lupin, but call me Tonks." Yet she gave him no explanation as to why as she had turned to the werewolf. "And this is my husband Remus Lupin."

"We've already met," Lupin said curtly, nodding to Draco. "I must say I'm rather impressed, Malfoy. You've really managed to do the exact opposite of what your father would have wanted."

Not knowing how to respond to this, Draco simply said: "Thanks."

"Well," Tonks suddenly said. "We should get in there, so we can get this thing over with." She turned towards the doors. "I've already missed out on two hours of sleep and I don't want this all to infringe on my nap time."

She began to lead the way to the door, but didn't make it far as she was soon crashing towards the ground. In one deft movement, the werewolf had caught his wife in his arms, seemingly unfazed by the sudden development. Standing her upright, they continued towards the doors as though nothing had happened.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the woman beside him.

"Tonks is a little klutzy at times," she said softly, trying to hide a grin.

Draco remained silent, knowing that if he said something that he would offend her. He didn't quite feel like it, finding her smile to be quite peculiar. He had never seen her smile before. Or at least not in recent history. He had a feeling that if it stayed there longer she might give him a slightly easier time. Yet he doubted it.

The foursome moved down a hall and down a set of stairs before they stopped in front of a set of double doors. The sound of many voices greeted their ears, and Draco set his jaw. Tonks strode forward and opened the door, revealing the room within. Draco felt his eyes grow wide at the amount of people within the room. Had there really been this many members? He truly had been kept in the dark.

o-o-o

Ginny walked about in a daze, being greeted and receiving condolences from nearly everyone in the room. She saw old faces, old friends, old rivalries, yet she didn't quite feel that she was really there. That she was really in this place once more, discussing things that should never be discussed. That shouldn't need discussing.

Ron and Hermione had made quite a large production in making sure that she was alright. Ginny simply told them she was to get them to back off. She hated when they fussed over her like that. It was almost as if they didn't really care what she was feeling as long as she said she was fine. Yet, that was just how her family was, and she knew she could not pick her relatives.

Harry had been better then his two friends, but then he had been around her before. He did, however, demand knowledge about Malfoy, who Ginny had misplaced some time earlier when people had risen to greet her. She told Harry that everything was well; just to be rid of him. What use was it to whine to him that Malfoy was an ass? That he treated her like she was a stupid child who needed to be ruled over to be kept safe. That would just make him mad, make him want to hurt something, seek his frustrations out on someone else...

She wandered about, for what seemed like hours, and the longer she went on through the room the more sadness weighed on her heart that so many people were missing. Yet they had been for quite some time now. You can not fight a war without expecting casualties. You could fight one and try to keep them to a minimum, to maximize the survivors, but it was impossible to hold battle without being assured that someone was going to die. Of this Ginny knew all too well...

"Let's sit down," someone said into her ear, causing her to jump. "Careful Weasley," the someone drawled.

Ginny turned angry eyes on the blonde behind her causing him to frown back. "I don't need to be careful Malfoy," she spat at him, pulling the hair from her face.

"Funny," he said with a mock thoughtful expression. "The way you go about things I would say you do."

"You-"

"Ah, Miss Weasley," a cheerful voice interrupted her words, causing them both to turn to see the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore. Ginny felt surprise spike through her as she looked at him. He looked so old. But then, she had no idea the age of her former headmaster. He could be nearing one hundred or for all she knew, have already passed it. "I am glad to see you up and about."

"Yes well," she said slowly, trying to keep her voice even. It would not do to break down before the leader. Even if he was the one who got her to the point of breaking. "You can't keep me down."

"This I know," he said with a wink and Ginny had to struggle to keep a neutral face. Though the man was truly a savior of the world, she didn't think she could forgive him just yet. Not for what he had done. Not for those who had to pay the price at the beginning of it all.

"And how are you, Mr. Malfoy?" the old man asked, turning his aged eyes to the younger man. "I hope Miss. Weasley isn't giving you too much trouble?"

"There's nothing about her that I can't handle, sir," the blonde drawled in response and Ginny felt a pang of anger. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear the smug look from his face. But she couldn't do that here.

"Good to hear," the old man said with a sweeping gesture. "How about we all sit down and get this meeting over with?" With that he walked to the head of the large, kitchen table.

"After you," Malfoy sneered at her, raising his eyebrows as if to prove his point.

With a sneer of her own, Ginny swept forward and sat in the first seat she came across. Malfoy sat down next to her moments later and she pointedly ignored him, looking instead to the people who sat down next to her. Harry grinned at her, and tilting her head she could see Hermione and Ron doing the same. She gave a weak smile of her own then turned to look at the people sitting along the table.

'They all looked so old now,' she realized, frowning despite the fact that there had been seven years for them to age. Grey hairs, hallowed eyes, wrinkled skin. It was all very peculiar to her. 'How funny it is how the world works,' she mused once more. She didn't think she would ever get over that. She could hear voices talking, but she chose to ignore them. She knew what they would be saying anyway.

"Weasley," Malfoy suddenly hissed at her, his elbow connecting with her ribs. She turned and glared at him. "They're talking to you." He had an expression on his face that she couldn't quite read. But it could have possibly been disgust or irritation or concern. She highly doubted the latter.

Turning away from the blonde and his face, she looked at the other expectant faces around the table. "Sorry," she said slowly, not backing down and not feeling very sorry. She knew it was immature, but she did not really care at the moment.

"I was just saying, Miss. Weasley," Dumbledore's voice greeted her ears. "That your two premonitions marked the return. Kinglsey was wondering if you have seen anymore."

Ginny turned her brown eyes to rest on the black man. He smiled gently at her and she found herself smiling slightly back as well. Her family owed a lot to that man.

Taking in a deep breath, realizing that all eyes were turned on her and their owners were waiting with baited breath, Ginny shook her head slowly no. "No," she said softly. "Not a thing since Harry and myself." She paused, her face crinkling slightly. "It's almost as if they were testing the waters."

"How so?" a man to Kingsley's right asked. Ginny turned to him to realize it was Mungdungus. 'Since when does he care about affairs?' she wondered in slight astonishment. 'Or stay awake for that matter?'

"Well," she found herself saying, not even quite sure why she had said anything at all. This had all just occurred to her while she was having her shower this morning. "It almost seems to me that they were simply trying to see if I could actually predict these deaths. And perhaps if they had already confirmed this, they were just trying to see how I dealt with them. What steps I take to stop them from happening."

There was a pause.

"I have been wondering this myself," Dumbledore said. "It's almost as if they were trying to see if she was still alive, or simply if she still had this power to stop their plans."

"I'm still surprised over the fact that none of them killed anyone over the past years," Zacharis Smith sneered, looking as pompous as ever. "It must have been very hard for them not to, even if they didn't want to attract her attention."

"Most likely their own lives were on the line if they screwed up," Cho Chang retorted bitterly from across the table. "I suspect Voldemort had a fate worse than death if they ruined his plans."

"But the main question is now," Minerva McGonagall began from her seat beside Dumbledore. "Is what we are going to do about stopping him this time?"

The room burst into loud voices as people began to debate about the various issues raised. Ginny stared at them all wide-eyed. Since when did the Order argue like this? Or had she just become so accustomed to her research team that she wasn't use to the bickering anymore? Either way, she couldn't help but stare. A glance at the man beside her, told her that Malfoy was in a similar state of mind.

There was a cough that surprisingly brought all present to silence. All eyes were turned to Dumbledore who was looking expectantly at the people crowded around the table. His face seemed to have lost its cheerfulness.

"There is only one way left to defeat Voldemort for good," he said gravely, looking about at the curious faces. "Since the prophecy has apparently been proven wrong, as I secretly feared that it would be." He nodded gravely to Harry who nodded back, his face dark. "There is only one option left."

"And what would that be?" Malfoy asked from beside her, causing Ginny to turn and look at him with surprise.

"His heir must kill him."

The crowed of people once again burst into speech, more desperate and confused than before. Mutual shouts of "Heir? How could he have an heir!" or "Since when?" and a final out burst from her brother Ron saying: "Who would want to have sex with that thing!" A few people laughed at this one.

"If you will quiet down, I will explain," Dumbledore called over the voices. Ginny turned to look at him and was slightly startled to see a rather impatient look on his face. It was an emotion she had never witnessed him express before. It was rather unsuiting. But just as soon as it had arrived, the look disappeared. She frowned slightly. Perhaps there was more to the man than she had first given him credit for. Perhaps he was more human than she thought he was. More troubled.

The room calmed down and all looked at the now passive old man, not seeming to notice the look he had had prior.

"How can You Know Who have an heir?" her brother Fred demanded.

"It's just wrong," George agreed.

"I am not quite certain of all the details," Dumbledore began, his hands clasped before him. "But what I have pieced together should be more then sufficient for now." He paused. "Voldemort was not always as hideous as he is at present. In fact he was quite an attractive young man."

Ginny felt a tremor at the mere memory of the man that was seared into her mind. She would never forget him. He never would have allowed that. Yet the tremor she felt wasn't one of fear, but of anger. Anger at more than him, or herself.

"Yet he did not produce his heir when he still held this appearance," Dumbledore continued. "From what I have discerned he didn't consider the necessity of having an heir until just before his initial rise to power. I am assuming that he must have been going through rough times, for why would a being that would live forever need someone to replace themselves? But need a child he did, and he had one.

"Who the mother was, no one is quite sure for Voldemort kept all of this secret from everyone, even his most trusted associates," Dumbledore went on, looking weary and tired. "She was from somewhere in North America, but even this is abstract as there is no record of her ever coming to England, or even having a name." People frowned at this. "She simply checked herself into St. Mungos, alone, and died in this same hospital a few hours later." There were a few gasps.

"And what do you mean by that?" Neville Longbottom asked, his face no longer as round as it had once been. He was gripping the hand of his blonde wife, Luna Lovegood, as though what he was hearing was distressing him. Or he thought it was distressing her.

"She died of a rare poison, that only Voldemort would be cruel enough to use, Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore sighed. "This is where things become less difficult to figure out. Voldemort disguised himself to look as he once looked when he was with the woman, yet she discovered who he truly was. As soon as her child was born, she stole away with it, trying to hide it from the monster that was the father, and hid it in a safe place where she knew he would never find it." He paused once more, frowning at his hands for a moment before continuing. "Voldemort caught up with her shortly after, trying to find out about his child. He didn't know what had happened to it other than the mother had had something to do with its disappearance. He didn't know if it was alive or dead, or even what sex it was."

"But you do, right Albus?" Tonks asked, her fingers flickering from being covered in feathers to scales then back to skin.

"Yes, she was a lovely child who went by the name of Vera Black. No relation to the house of Black, I am afraid," he added at the look of interest on several faces. They all fell. "I had the privilege of teaching her while she attended Hogwarts. A very bright child despite her upbringings." He paused as if reminiscing.

"Her mother gave her up to a Wizarding Orphanage, telling them only that they had to keep her safe from the evil that was rising and what her name was. A fake last name, as though she didn't want her child to have any connections to her past. The child grew up there, never knowing her parents, but hearing all about her father as he began his reign of terror as we knew it. She eventually came to Hogwarts and stayed there until she completed school. It's after this that things get a touch more complicated." He stopped for a moment. "She left the Wizarding world and no one knows why or where she went."

"So in order to kill Voldemort we will have to find this Vera girl first?" Harry asked, a determined look on his face. Ginny frowned. How could he not look determined? This was something that he would consider his responsibility now. He hadn't gotten rid of the evil the first time, he was going to make sure it left for good this time. It was so Harry.

"I am afraid so," Dumbledore said sadly. "But she is no longer a girl, Harry. She will be a thirty six year old woman if my memory serves me right."

"And you have no idea whatsoever as to where she went?" Hermione piped up, her brow furrowed. Ginny knew she would be helping with her books.

"None at all."

o-o-o

The meeting carried on in this manner for quite some time before Draco found himself following in Ginny's wake out of the building. He couldn't say that he was going to miss it, feeling rather that he was happy to leave. It didn't exactly scream at him as a place to frequent.

"Well that was just fun," he heard the red head mumble as she pulled out her wand, standing in the place she had stood before where they had Portkeyed. She then turned to face him, her eyes dark. "Don't Apparate to my flat; you have to go to the alley beside it. I am assuming you have already looked it over?"

Draco nodded. Without another word the woman before him Apparated with a pop. With a sigh of annoyance, Draco Apparated after her, thinking not for the first time, that there was really going to be no point in him being there if she did not follow what he said. 'I guess Potter was right,' he thought darkly, appearing in the alleyway she had referred to.

He looked around to see her leaning against the wall, eyes to the ground. He felt a pang that something was wrong for an instant, but it faded as quickly as it had come when she looked up and glared at him through her long hair.

"Took you long enough," she sneered, pushing herself off the wall and striding past him. Draco let out a growl.

"You know, there is no point in me being around you if you don't do what I say," he hissed at her, coming up beside her. "What if there had been a Death Eater down there and you had been killed?"

"Then you wouldn't be talking to me right now and neither of us would have to pretend that we care," she replied, glaring down at the ground.

Draco turned and grabbed her about the shoulders, pushing her back and slamming her none too gently into the wall. She looked up at him with surprise.

"I don't know what is wrong with you Weasley," he hissed at her, squeezing the portions of her that he had a hold of. "But this attitude of yours has got to stop, otherwise there's no point in me protecting you. And the way you are going on about it, I am seriously beginning to think that you want to die."

The surprised look on her face faded to be replaced by something else. Draco found himself staring at it, not quite sure what it was. It was almost as if she was hallow inside and a tiny bit of it was showing through. It made him want to shutter, but he suppressed the urge, instead leaning closer to the woman herself.

"How many people do think Voldemort killed in our seventh year, before he was defeated?" she asked him calmly, the hallow feeling seeming to radiate from her, making Draco's hands feel as though the heat was being sucked from him like ice.

"I don't know the exact figure," he responded with a frown, not knowing exactly what she was talking about. And her eyes were starting to stir something inside him, like a bad dream that he had long ago forgotten but the impression of it was still there on the tip of his memory. Yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. "But I know it was over a few thousand."

"Simply a number?" she asked in a painfully calm voice, her eyes seeming to stare straight to his soul.

"What are you getting at Weasley?" he said darkly, beginning to get the feeling that she was trying to pull something, but on the other hand a part of him doubted that.

"Everyone just thinks of the dead as a number," she said slowly, the calmness seeming to lift slightly to be replaced by something else that Draco could not decipher. "They always neglect to think of how every single number was a person, an individual, just like you or me. An individual with hopes and dreams, aspirations and fears." She paused for a moment, her lips twitching slightly.

"Then they simply end and no one gives a damn as to who they were, only that they died. That they were killed by a murderer." She swallowed. "All that they were conveniently drops away."

"I understand that," he said slowly, frowning slightly. It made sense really. People didn't want to think of atrocities in terms of reality. Why think that the dead where really people when a number won't make you feel quite so bad. Quite so guilty for being alive when the deceased no longer were.

"Do you really?" she asked with a frown, her eyes seeming to loose their hollowness all together to be replaced with pain. With resentment. But only for an instant as she closed her eyes and when she opened them again all was blank as though they had never held emotion to begin with. "I don't think you do. Not completely anyway."

"And you do?" Draco retorted, feeling in some odd way that he wanted to see the hurt in her eyes once more. To see that there was something to her other than the impassiveness and bitterness that he usually saw. This desire startled him.

"How could I not?" she replied, turning her head away from him, closing her eyes once more. Then she looked back, meeting his eyes, and fire burnt there. "I still feel every one of those damned souls within me. Every single one I failed to save. They never leave."

o-o-o

A/N: Well, I wasn't expecting to put that last bit in so soon, but it works. :D Anyhoo, don't know when the next part will come out, but things will be getting better soon. One more chapter and the shit starts to fly. In large chunks.

Many thanks to: Monique(If I could, my entire room would be full of stuff from there :D), Andernale, Lallie(What weren't you going to tell again?), VirtualFaerie(Evil!Beating!Potatoes...? Ok...), CherryMintChocolates(Apparently he wasn't bitter enough compared to OotP), Elani(I am saying nothing), tulzdavampslayer(Yah, I love cheese. Especially wedged cheese...), maria(Oooh, stupid Flames, think there so great with their little flame symbol... Just jokes!), bigbitch(Sorry for the wait), hpfan90, wow, Chieri Asuka(Nope, this is not a sequel and apparently I did. :D) and Mara-Jade-KSS(Mara Jade's so cool:D)