Chapter Fourteen: Fears and Revelations
Ginny's eyes were never filled with so much hatred as Rosa entered the bedroom, raven-black hair melting in with the darkness. She stood a few feet away from the bed, eyeing Ginny with a cocked brow. Ginny's eyes followed Rosa as she took the seat Blaise was on, not even daring to let her guard down again.
Rosa looked amused at Ginny's seriousness.
"There's no need to glare daggers," said Rosa, chuckling slightly. Ginny involuntarily shivered — the woman's voice was as sharp and piercing as a knife.
"Relax," Rosa continued, and made herself comfortable. "I won't hurt you."
Ginny made a derisive snort, causing a foreign look to pass through Rosa's hollow eyes. She quickly loosened, however, and began to rake her hair with her pale fingers. Rosa looked to be as tall as Ron, especially with those three-inch heels she wore.
Ginny bit back another snort. While Rosa was indeed a gorgeous woman, her taste in fashion was definitely off. She wore a tight, black top, a blood-red leather miniskirt with matching jacket, and fishnet stockings. What made Ginny want to laugh the most was her bright red pumps. She could barely remember when her own mother wore pumps. All in all, her outfit reminded Ginny of those women who'd stand around late at night in the Muggle streets. Though it was a bit of an improvement from the purple/green disaster she wore before.
Ginny's brows furrowed upon remembering the woman's odd transformation. In all her years in Transfiguration, she never remembered McGonagall ever mentioning the ability to transfigure into another humans. She had heard of the Polyjuice Potion — though the change would be involuntary. Rosa seemed to be controlling the transformation.
"What are you?" asked Ginny, unable to bury her curiosity.
Rosa's left brow quirked up slightly, before a full-blown grin spread through her lips.
"You don't know?" she asked, her voice sounding slightly menacing.
Ginny shook her head. Rosa chuckled.
"You've read about my kind in your fifth year. I should know — I went to Hogwarts. Though it has been 50 years since I'd graduated but — "
"Fifty years?" Ginny blurted out, disbelieving.
Rosa nodded, apparently amused at Ginny's shock.
"I hardly look above 30, don't I?" asked Rosa, and chuckled as Ginny nodded numbly. "Call it a perk."
Ginny didn't understand. "A perk?"
"Of my abilities," answered Rosa, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. "Think back to your fifth year. Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Chapter 12."
Ginny frowned. She could hardly remember what she had for breakfast, if she had any at all. How was she supposed to remember what she read in her fifth year?
She rummaged through the farthest corner of her brain, trying to remember anything about her fifth year. They had a female Professor back then — a Professor F... F something. She remembered reading through the book, and doing extensive essays on all of the creatures they'd learned about. She remembered a particularly ghastly one on vampires and shape-shifters —
It was like someone had dropped cold water down her back. Rosa was a shape-shifter! Ginny would've slapped herself if she could. Why hadn't she realized it before? She'd spent weeks on that essay, pulling all sorts of all-nighters to review the load of information she'd acquired. It was no wonder Rosa looked so young — shape-shifters were able to modify their appearances to their convenience.
Ginny's understanding must've shown through her face for Rosa was suddenly nodding.
"Yes," said Rosa, a bitter look on her wrinkle-free face. "The kids were particularly rude about it, saying all sorts of nasty things about us shape-shifters. Granted, they had no idea that I was one. But neither did I til I was 17..."
A sudden, vengeful smile appeared on Rosa's face as she became nostalgic.
"What a wonderful time that was," she said, looking dreamy. "No more buck-toothed, pimply Rosa Effemral. Oh no," she grinned, "no, that year, all of the boys wanted me. And who could blame them?"
Ginny was suddenly starting to feel very nauseated.
"I was perfect," continued Rosa. "I had it all, and in the right places too."
Now Ginny was positive she'd be sick. Fortunately, Rosa's nostalgia was finished, and she was now looking at Ginny with interest.
"Though you're not so bad yourself," said Rosa, causing Ginny's nose to wrinkle.
"Yet too simple for Draco's taste," she said, pricking Ginny's nerves.
"What do you know about Draco?" sounded Ginny, speaking up for the first time.
Rosa chuckled, and leaned forward in her chair to whisper,
"I know plenty."
* * *
Getting to the front door wasn't as easy as Draco thought it'd be. The pathway meant to lead visitors to the house was thoroughly covered with rocks, weeds, and insects of the huge variety. He was greatly thankful that Ron and Harry were stationed behind him, for the face he made upon seeing the insects would not be one he'd want them to see. Bugs were not one of his most favorite of animals, and he would literally go to pieces if one ever grazed his skin — again, not something he'd want the duo to witness.
With great energy, he fought back the urge to shiver, as a particularly large and squishy centipede began to crawl sluggishly across his path.
It was at that time, that he felt a rough poke in his shoulder blade.
"What're you waiting for?" hissed Ron, apparently unaware of the many-legged beast that had yet to reach its destination.
"Sod off, Weasley," said Draco in a low voice, his wide gray eyes keeping rapt attention on the centipede.
"Malfoy — you're sweating," observed Harry, in the same low voice Ron had used.
Draco would've rolled his eyes if he dared to take them off the centipede.
"How nice of you to notice, Potter."
"It's October," said Harry. "Why're you sweating in October?"
"It's all that black silk," huffed Ron, undoubtedly shaking his head. "Silk does not breathe."
"Though you'd never know, would you?" Draco had wanted to say, but feared what would happen if he opened his mouth; the centipede was dangerously close to his foot. He watched with fear as the centipedes vulgar antennas (did centipedes have antennas? Draco never bothered to care) grazed across his expensive boots. This time he could not help but shudder.
"What's up with you?" asked Ron, not having missed the movement of Draco's shoulders.
"What're you looking at?" said Harry, and Draco could vaguely hear him move to his side.
"I don't believe it," said Harry, close to laughter.
"Shut up, Potter — " Draco had warned, but Harry was already in a fit of giggles.
"You're scared of a teeny bug!" squeaked Harry, and now Ron had joined him in the laughter.
"If you must know, Potter," said Draco heavily, inching ever-so slowly away from the said bug, "this is not a teeny bug — this is a beast!"
But Harry and Ron could not get over their fit. Draco heaved a sigh. Of course they would not understand — they didn't have to spend nights locked up in a box filled with nothing but large insects to keep you company. Ron suddenly began to snort, and Draco felt all his patience leave him.
"I wouldn't be so haughty, Weasley. I hear autumn's the perfect time for spiders to reproduce*."
Ron stopped his laughing in an instant, and Harry choked on his. Draco had no way of knowing, but he was certain Ron's ears were now as red as his hair. He allowed himself to smirk.
"Who told him about the spiders thing?" Ron hissed angrily to Harry, who immediately began to stutter his denial.
Draco tuned them out. His whole attention was not set on the situation at hand, which was now thankfully back on its merry way away from him.
He scanned the pathway. It was about 27 inches in width, and 10 meters in length. It consisted of 5 blocks, each 2 meters long. In the cracks sprouted an amazing amount of plant life, with each stalk inhabited by clans and clans of insects.
Draco was not at all pleased.
"Geez, Malfoy, just walk over them!"
"I thought you were supposed to be quiet?" Draco snarled, apparently very touchy about the bug situation. He put himself in his mind, brainstorming of ways to avoid the creatures.
"At least there aren't any draconis," Draco absentmindedly muttered aloud.
"Draconis?" repeated Harry, and Draco mentally kicked himself. "What's that?"
"That's a type of bug, isn't it?" piped up Ron. "They're kinda like those Muggle leeches you have, except about ten times worse and fifty times bigger. They suck your blood, alright — but draconii don't stop there. They're horrible little things, sucking up your very soul. I even heard they'd make you lose your mind too. Think leeches with a dash of Dementor."
Draco could just imagine Harry shudder upon the mentioning of a Dementor.
"But they're supposed to be very rare," continued Ron. "How'd'you know about them?"
Draco only shrugged.
"Father had connections," he said simply. Leaving the two boys to put two and two together, Draco went back to his scheming. This was in vain, however, for he found no way to avoid the encounter. He was thoroughly ashamed — seven years as a Slytherin, and not one plan.
"Your father used draconii on you?" Harry said suddenly, disbelief dripping in his tone. "Why?"
"Apparently, a soul is a defect. He found it funny how appropriately named it was," he said casually, as if sending such deadly creatures to your son was as normal as having tea.
He could feel the tension lingering between Ron and Harry, and chuckled at their naivete. They were grown men yet still very much children. They have yet to experience the wrath of the real world.
Finally coming up with a plan, he lifted his left arm so it was parallel to the ground, and uttered,
"Scindo."
A dark green flash of light exploded from the tip of his wand, blowing through the insect-inhabited walk and creating a clear path for them to walk through. Looking very smug, Draco jogged the distance to the front door, with Harry and Ron in tow.
"That was...," Ron began in awe, but Draco waved him off.
"Save your praise for later, Weasley, we still have your sister to save." Pensive, Draco adjusted his standing position so he was able to stare intently at the large, rotting door in front of him.
"Knock," whispered Ron.
"That's a great idea," gasped Draco. "Then after that I can paint a bull's-eye on my bum."
"It was just a suggestion," Ron mumbled sourly, shifting around behind him.
Draco rolled his eyes. Gryffindors — no tact at all.
"Maybe there's a backway," Ron said again.
Draco shot a look to his left, then his right. Every inch of the house's yard had knee-high weeds, probably infested with more disgusting bugs.
"No," he said, suppressing another shudder. The Scindo spell takes a lot out of the user, and he didn't have enough energy to perform it again. Dark Arts tend to do that to a person.
Ron was on the end of his chain. His sister could very well be struggling for her life at that very moment! And what was he doing? Hiding under a Cloak. He never felt more like a coward.
"What the hell are we supposed to do — wait for them to invite us in?"
And sure enough, the large oak door opened with a creak. Draco glanced over his shoulder at the space that was Ron, arching a brow. He could hear Ron shrug.
The door was opened fully, though all they could see inside was a faint outline of another door at the end. Their view was obstructed, however, by a large man, who fit perfectly between the wide door frame. The man was indeed bulky, though he looked to be more meat than muscle. He had a round face, with a bristly beard, and a wry grin playing around his rough and chapped lips.
Draco's shock immediately vanished after getting a better look at the man. His face held nothing but a calm glare, and his voice was blanketed with a smooth and velvety tone as he greeted the man.
"Hello, Goyle."
* * *
Ginny was now thoroughly intrigued, though she would never allow herself to show so. Instead she maintained a derisive look and said,
"You're bluffing."
Rosa laughed. "Believe what you want, young one, but I may know more about Draco Malfoy than he does himself."
Ginny wouldn't allow herself to be tricked by this woman. How could a woman like Rosa ever know about Draco? She was probably just messing with Ginny's mind, figuring she'd have a little fun with her. Ginny wouldn't give her that satisfaction.
Rosa laughed again, and began to change the color and length of her hair. Ginny watched with a set face as Rosa imitated her own red mane. She then pulled out a wand and used the Summoning Charm to retrieve a mirror. She gave a satisfied grin as she began to rake her fingers through her hair, which, for some reason, deeply offended Ginny.
"I must admit," said Rosa thoughtfully, "that this hair would only work well with a face like yours."
And before Ginny could even blink, Rosa had changed her appearance. Ginny was now staring into the brown eyes of... herself.
Rosa/Ginny giggled.
"Change back," the real Ginny ordered, offence written all over her features.
Rosa/Ginny frowned.
"You're no fun," she said, and Ginny felt an unusual shiver go down her spine upon hearing her own voice come out of someone else's mouth.
Rosa began to change again, though not in the raven-haired woman she was before. No, she wasn't even a woman anymore! Ginny's cheeks unwillingly burned as Rosa's features began to melt. Her complexion paled, her eyes grayed, and her hair got silvery. In no time at all, Draco Malfoy was sitting where Rosa had once been, an uncanny smirk playing around his lips.
Ginny was glad she hadn't been standing, for her knees would've given out.
* * *
Gregory Goyle smiled a toothy grin. Draco had never seen him so happy since that one Valentine's in sixth year, when he had stolen the entire Hufflepuff's box of chocolates, and then proceeded to eat it himelf. The memory was not at all enjoyable.
"Hallo Malfoy," greeted Goyle, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Draco found his cheeriness to be all but welcoming. It was downright annoying, really. But he was used to that in Goyle. In Crabbe too, in fact.
Goyle's grin seemed to be permently etched on his face as he side-stepped (a feat that seemed entirely impossible considering the width of the door against the width of Goyle) and bent as far as his belly would let him with his arms outstretched to let them in, reminding Draco fondly of the many butlers he used to have at the Manor.
"Please come in," said Goyle cheekily, making sweeping motions with his hands. "We've been expecting you."
"I bet," Draco muttered under his breath and swept into the old house. The strong smell of dust and decay immediately clung to his nostrils as he tried to have a look around. He didn't bother to check if Ron and Harry was still behind him.
"Lumos," muttered Goyle, and Draco watched the faint blue light from his wand bob along in the darkness. "Follow me," he said, and started towards the lit doorway at the other end of the room. A sudden wave of coldness swept inside him, as he finally realized what he was doing. He had just walked into his opponent's trap, without any defenses or cunning plans. He felt completely powerless, and he wondered whatever made him so blind.
As if to answer his question, a mental image of Ginny flashed in his head. That's what he was there for — to save Ginny. Ginny, the Gryffindor. Ginny, a Weasley. If his mind wasn't so busy getting his legs to move, he would've laughed.
He was actually risking his life for a Gryffindor — a Weasley. Did he honestly care about her that much?
He blinked. When did he even start caring about her?
"You go here," came Goyle's grizzly voice. They were in a narrow hallways, poorly lit by a trail of candles hanging on the wall. There were two doors on either side of Draco, and Goyle was motioning towards the first door to Draco's right. The door was closed, though he could barely make out the sound of voices behind it.
"Why?" Draco drawled stubbornly.
"The Master said so," replied Goyle automatically.
Master? Draco arched a brow suspiciously, and opened his mouth to interrogate him when the door Goyle was referring to burst open. What followed was a loud squeal, originating from the tiny form of Blaise Zabini.
"Draco, honey!" she squealed, looking like her birthday had come early. She flung her arms out and lunged towards Draco. There wasn't enough room in the hallway, what with Goyle taking up most of it, so Draco couldn't avoid her hug. She wrapped her thin arms around him, surprising him with quite the grip, and pressed her ruby-red lips firmly against his own. Draco struggled to get out of her grasp, only causing her grip to tighten. The added pressure of her lips — and now tongue — over his mouth only made his breathing even more difficult.
Only the loud cough of Goyle made her break away. Blaise, now flushed and breathing hard, stared adoringly at Draco.
"I'm so glad you could come," she said, like she were welcoming him for a spot of tea.
Draco quickly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak. "What do you want, Blaise?" He was hardly in the mood for any stalling she planned on doing.
"Oh, so in a hurry," said Blaise playfully. "Don't you want to have some fun first?"
Draco snorted. "I shudder to think what your definition of 'fun' would be."
Blaise giggled. "You're so fiesty, Draco. Just like you always were. I'm glad to see that Gryffindor didn't change you too much."
"That Gryffindor had nothing to do with my 'change'," he spat. "Now what do you want?"
"Aren't you even going to ask where she is?" asked Blaise, pouting slightly. Though it was obvious to see how much fun she was having.
"I know how it works, Blaise," said Draco impatiently. "You're not going to reveal anything until you get what you want. Now what do you want?"
Blaise's tittering continued. "You're so smart," she simpered, and pointed her wand to an empty space beside Draco. "I'll tell you, but first we have to get rid of our other guests."
Before Draco's eyes could even widen, she shouted the body bind spell, and two loud thuds sounded in his ears. With a tinge of dread, Draco's eyes fell to the spot beside him, where he could just see the tip of Harry's shoe from underneath the Invisibility Cloak. There were no sounds that suggested that she missed.
Draco turned back to Blaise, who was tapping her wand in satisfaction. "H-How — ?" was all he could say, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.
Blaise grinned, her giggly school girl facade having dropped. "You honestly didn't think I was that stupid, did you?" she asked. Draco just gaped, making her grin grow.
"Shame, shame, Draco. Hadn't your father taught you anything?"
And with that, she raised her wand again, pointing it directly at Draco's heart. He didn't have time to react. Within the blink of an eye, he was subjected to the Crutiatus Curse.
* * *
Looking back at his face hurt her in more ways than one. He sat with one arm casually draped over the arm of his chair, while the other was raised to prop up his chin. His eyes were dark and hooded, yet the shape they had suggested his amusement. He was perfect. Everything, down to the way his silvery tresses fell over his eyes, pulled at her heart strings. Even his clothing. Rosa must've had some sort of fetish for leather, because the pants he had on shined like the dragon-hides Charlie often brought home.
And yet, no matter how uncanny, it was not the real Draco — something Ginny thought in disappointment. While Rosa had his sneer down pat, there was just no replacing the original. It amazed Ginny that she would actually know what the original was. Perhaps he'd gotten a lot closer to her than she may have thought.
The sudden thought of their moments together flashed through Ginny's mind, like a Muggle movie going on inside her head. She remembered their moment in the kitchens, if it could even be labeled as a 'moment'. He was civil — as civil as Draco Malfoy can get anyway. His sarcasm hadn't faded a bit, but she found herself missing him regardless.
Great Merlin, she thought. She actually missed him. Why? Why was it that he be the first person she thought of in a time so dire? The only other time she had been this frightened was in her first year. Inside the Chamber of Secrets. And the person she thought of then was... Harry.
A soft sound escaped from her mouth, sounding a lot like something close to, "duck". Oh boy, she thought. She couldn't. Not him. No. It was impossible. Illogical. Absurd! She couldn't...
Suddenly her heart beat hard against her chest, as if to prove itself. That was all Ginny needed to send the tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't. She just couldn't. It made absolutely no sense at all. How could she? Why would she? Yet, as her heart gave another loud thump, she couldn't help but admit that she actually did.
"No — not again," she pleaded, as she quietly gripped the ropes that binded her. Ginny Weasley would not allow herself to fall in love again. Her heart, however, had other plans.
----------------------------------------
*I have no idea about this. I made it up completely. If it does happen to be true, then hurrah! — I'm a genius.
Also, draconii is the plural form of draconis. Just thought I'd clear that up.
Much love to all my reviewers! wolviesrogue, Joya, Robyn Maddison, ThePixieDustPoet, Exploiting Hypothesis, and Beth.
And contrary to a not-so popular belief, I have not given up on this fic. So you all haven't gotten rid of me yet! ;D
Chapter Fifteen; Sight, sound, and touch.
Ginny's eyes were never filled with so much hatred as Rosa entered the bedroom, raven-black hair melting in with the darkness. She stood a few feet away from the bed, eyeing Ginny with a cocked brow. Ginny's eyes followed Rosa as she took the seat Blaise was on, not even daring to let her guard down again.
Rosa looked amused at Ginny's seriousness.
"There's no need to glare daggers," said Rosa, chuckling slightly. Ginny involuntarily shivered — the woman's voice was as sharp and piercing as a knife.
"Relax," Rosa continued, and made herself comfortable. "I won't hurt you."
Ginny made a derisive snort, causing a foreign look to pass through Rosa's hollow eyes. She quickly loosened, however, and began to rake her hair with her pale fingers. Rosa looked to be as tall as Ron, especially with those three-inch heels she wore.
Ginny bit back another snort. While Rosa was indeed a gorgeous woman, her taste in fashion was definitely off. She wore a tight, black top, a blood-red leather miniskirt with matching jacket, and fishnet stockings. What made Ginny want to laugh the most was her bright red pumps. She could barely remember when her own mother wore pumps. All in all, her outfit reminded Ginny of those women who'd stand around late at night in the Muggle streets. Though it was a bit of an improvement from the purple/green disaster she wore before.
Ginny's brows furrowed upon remembering the woman's odd transformation. In all her years in Transfiguration, she never remembered McGonagall ever mentioning the ability to transfigure into another humans. She had heard of the Polyjuice Potion — though the change would be involuntary. Rosa seemed to be controlling the transformation.
"What are you?" asked Ginny, unable to bury her curiosity.
Rosa's left brow quirked up slightly, before a full-blown grin spread through her lips.
"You don't know?" she asked, her voice sounding slightly menacing.
Ginny shook her head. Rosa chuckled.
"You've read about my kind in your fifth year. I should know — I went to Hogwarts. Though it has been 50 years since I'd graduated but — "
"Fifty years?" Ginny blurted out, disbelieving.
Rosa nodded, apparently amused at Ginny's shock.
"I hardly look above 30, don't I?" asked Rosa, and chuckled as Ginny nodded numbly. "Call it a perk."
Ginny didn't understand. "A perk?"
"Of my abilities," answered Rosa, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. "Think back to your fifth year. Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Chapter 12."
Ginny frowned. She could hardly remember what she had for breakfast, if she had any at all. How was she supposed to remember what she read in her fifth year?
She rummaged through the farthest corner of her brain, trying to remember anything about her fifth year. They had a female Professor back then — a Professor F... F something. She remembered reading through the book, and doing extensive essays on all of the creatures they'd learned about. She remembered a particularly ghastly one on vampires and shape-shifters —
It was like someone had dropped cold water down her back. Rosa was a shape-shifter! Ginny would've slapped herself if she could. Why hadn't she realized it before? She'd spent weeks on that essay, pulling all sorts of all-nighters to review the load of information she'd acquired. It was no wonder Rosa looked so young — shape-shifters were able to modify their appearances to their convenience.
Ginny's understanding must've shown through her face for Rosa was suddenly nodding.
"Yes," said Rosa, a bitter look on her wrinkle-free face. "The kids were particularly rude about it, saying all sorts of nasty things about us shape-shifters. Granted, they had no idea that I was one. But neither did I til I was 17..."
A sudden, vengeful smile appeared on Rosa's face as she became nostalgic.
"What a wonderful time that was," she said, looking dreamy. "No more buck-toothed, pimply Rosa Effemral. Oh no," she grinned, "no, that year, all of the boys wanted me. And who could blame them?"
Ginny was suddenly starting to feel very nauseated.
"I was perfect," continued Rosa. "I had it all, and in the right places too."
Now Ginny was positive she'd be sick. Fortunately, Rosa's nostalgia was finished, and she was now looking at Ginny with interest.
"Though you're not so bad yourself," said Rosa, causing Ginny's nose to wrinkle.
"Yet too simple for Draco's taste," she said, pricking Ginny's nerves.
"What do you know about Draco?" sounded Ginny, speaking up for the first time.
Rosa chuckled, and leaned forward in her chair to whisper,
"I know plenty."
Getting to the front door wasn't as easy as Draco thought it'd be. The pathway meant to lead visitors to the house was thoroughly covered with rocks, weeds, and insects of the huge variety. He was greatly thankful that Ron and Harry were stationed behind him, for the face he made upon seeing the insects would not be one he'd want them to see. Bugs were not one of his most favorite of animals, and he would literally go to pieces if one ever grazed his skin — again, not something he'd want the duo to witness.
With great energy, he fought back the urge to shiver, as a particularly large and squishy centipede began to crawl sluggishly across his path.
It was at that time, that he felt a rough poke in his shoulder blade.
"What're you waiting for?" hissed Ron, apparently unaware of the many-legged beast that had yet to reach its destination.
"Sod off, Weasley," said Draco in a low voice, his wide gray eyes keeping rapt attention on the centipede.
"Malfoy — you're sweating," observed Harry, in the same low voice Ron had used.
Draco would've rolled his eyes if he dared to take them off the centipede.
"How nice of you to notice, Potter."
"It's October," said Harry. "Why're you sweating in October?"
"It's all that black silk," huffed Ron, undoubtedly shaking his head. "Silk does not breathe."
"Though you'd never know, would you?" Draco had wanted to say, but feared what would happen if he opened his mouth; the centipede was dangerously close to his foot. He watched with fear as the centipedes vulgar antennas (did centipedes have antennas? Draco never bothered to care) grazed across his expensive boots. This time he could not help but shudder.
"What's up with you?" asked Ron, not having missed the movement of Draco's shoulders.
"What're you looking at?" said Harry, and Draco could vaguely hear him move to his side.
"I don't believe it," said Harry, close to laughter.
"Shut up, Potter — " Draco had warned, but Harry was already in a fit of giggles.
"You're scared of a teeny bug!" squeaked Harry, and now Ron had joined him in the laughter.
"If you must know, Potter," said Draco heavily, inching ever-so slowly away from the said bug, "this is not a teeny bug — this is a beast!"
But Harry and Ron could not get over their fit. Draco heaved a sigh. Of course they would not understand — they didn't have to spend nights locked up in a box filled with nothing but large insects to keep you company. Ron suddenly began to snort, and Draco felt all his patience leave him.
"I wouldn't be so haughty, Weasley. I hear autumn's the perfect time for spiders to reproduce*."
Ron stopped his laughing in an instant, and Harry choked on his. Draco had no way of knowing, but he was certain Ron's ears were now as red as his hair. He allowed himself to smirk.
"Who told him about the spiders thing?" Ron hissed angrily to Harry, who immediately began to stutter his denial.
Draco tuned them out. His whole attention was not set on the situation at hand, which was now thankfully back on its merry way away from him.
He scanned the pathway. It was about 27 inches in width, and 10 meters in length. It consisted of 5 blocks, each 2 meters long. In the cracks sprouted an amazing amount of plant life, with each stalk inhabited by clans and clans of insects.
Draco was not at all pleased.
"Geez, Malfoy, just walk over them!"
"I thought you were supposed to be quiet?" Draco snarled, apparently very touchy about the bug situation. He put himself in his mind, brainstorming of ways to avoid the creatures.
"At least there aren't any draconis," Draco absentmindedly muttered aloud.
"Draconis?" repeated Harry, and Draco mentally kicked himself. "What's that?"
"That's a type of bug, isn't it?" piped up Ron. "They're kinda like those Muggle leeches you have, except about ten times worse and fifty times bigger. They suck your blood, alright — but draconii don't stop there. They're horrible little things, sucking up your very soul. I even heard they'd make you lose your mind too. Think leeches with a dash of Dementor."
Draco could just imagine Harry shudder upon the mentioning of a Dementor.
"But they're supposed to be very rare," continued Ron. "How'd'you know about them?"
Draco only shrugged.
"Father had connections," he said simply. Leaving the two boys to put two and two together, Draco went back to his scheming. This was in vain, however, for he found no way to avoid the encounter. He was thoroughly ashamed — seven years as a Slytherin, and not one plan.
"Your father used draconii on you?" Harry said suddenly, disbelief dripping in his tone. "Why?"
"Apparently, a soul is a defect. He found it funny how appropriately named it was," he said casually, as if sending such deadly creatures to your son was as normal as having tea.
He could feel the tension lingering between Ron and Harry, and chuckled at their naivete. They were grown men yet still very much children. They have yet to experience the wrath of the real world.
Finally coming up with a plan, he lifted his left arm so it was parallel to the ground, and uttered,
"Scindo."
A dark green flash of light exploded from the tip of his wand, blowing through the insect-inhabited walk and creating a clear path for them to walk through. Looking very smug, Draco jogged the distance to the front door, with Harry and Ron in tow.
"That was...," Ron began in awe, but Draco waved him off.
"Save your praise for later, Weasley, we still have your sister to save." Pensive, Draco adjusted his standing position so he was able to stare intently at the large, rotting door in front of him.
"Knock," whispered Ron.
"That's a great idea," gasped Draco. "Then after that I can paint a bull's-eye on my bum."
"It was just a suggestion," Ron mumbled sourly, shifting around behind him.
Draco rolled his eyes. Gryffindors — no tact at all.
"Maybe there's a backway," Ron said again.
Draco shot a look to his left, then his right. Every inch of the house's yard had knee-high weeds, probably infested with more disgusting bugs.
"No," he said, suppressing another shudder. The Scindo spell takes a lot out of the user, and he didn't have enough energy to perform it again. Dark Arts tend to do that to a person.
Ron was on the end of his chain. His sister could very well be struggling for her life at that very moment! And what was he doing? Hiding under a Cloak. He never felt more like a coward.
"What the hell are we supposed to do — wait for them to invite us in?"
And sure enough, the large oak door opened with a creak. Draco glanced over his shoulder at the space that was Ron, arching a brow. He could hear Ron shrug.
The door was opened fully, though all they could see inside was a faint outline of another door at the end. Their view was obstructed, however, by a large man, who fit perfectly between the wide door frame. The man was indeed bulky, though he looked to be more meat than muscle. He had a round face, with a bristly beard, and a wry grin playing around his rough and chapped lips.
Draco's shock immediately vanished after getting a better look at the man. His face held nothing but a calm glare, and his voice was blanketed with a smooth and velvety tone as he greeted the man.
"Hello, Goyle."
Ginny was now thoroughly intrigued, though she would never allow herself to show so. Instead she maintained a derisive look and said,
"You're bluffing."
Rosa laughed. "Believe what you want, young one, but I may know more about Draco Malfoy than he does himself."
Ginny wouldn't allow herself to be tricked by this woman. How could a woman like Rosa ever know about Draco? She was probably just messing with Ginny's mind, figuring she'd have a little fun with her. Ginny wouldn't give her that satisfaction.
Rosa laughed again, and began to change the color and length of her hair. Ginny watched with a set face as Rosa imitated her own red mane. She then pulled out a wand and used the Summoning Charm to retrieve a mirror. She gave a satisfied grin as she began to rake her fingers through her hair, which, for some reason, deeply offended Ginny.
"I must admit," said Rosa thoughtfully, "that this hair would only work well with a face like yours."
And before Ginny could even blink, Rosa had changed her appearance. Ginny was now staring into the brown eyes of... herself.
Rosa/Ginny giggled.
"Change back," the real Ginny ordered, offence written all over her features.
Rosa/Ginny frowned.
"You're no fun," she said, and Ginny felt an unusual shiver go down her spine upon hearing her own voice come out of someone else's mouth.
Rosa began to change again, though not in the raven-haired woman she was before. No, she wasn't even a woman anymore! Ginny's cheeks unwillingly burned as Rosa's features began to melt. Her complexion paled, her eyes grayed, and her hair got silvery. In no time at all, Draco Malfoy was sitting where Rosa had once been, an uncanny smirk playing around his lips.
Ginny was glad she hadn't been standing, for her knees would've given out.
Gregory Goyle smiled a toothy grin. Draco had never seen him so happy since that one Valentine's in sixth year, when he had stolen the entire Hufflepuff's box of chocolates, and then proceeded to eat it himelf. The memory was not at all enjoyable.
"Hallo Malfoy," greeted Goyle, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Draco found his cheeriness to be all but welcoming. It was downright annoying, really. But he was used to that in Goyle. In Crabbe too, in fact.
Goyle's grin seemed to be permently etched on his face as he side-stepped (a feat that seemed entirely impossible considering the width of the door against the width of Goyle) and bent as far as his belly would let him with his arms outstretched to let them in, reminding Draco fondly of the many butlers he used to have at the Manor.
"Please come in," said Goyle cheekily, making sweeping motions with his hands. "We've been expecting you."
"I bet," Draco muttered under his breath and swept into the old house. The strong smell of dust and decay immediately clung to his nostrils as he tried to have a look around. He didn't bother to check if Ron and Harry was still behind him.
"Lumos," muttered Goyle, and Draco watched the faint blue light from his wand bob along in the darkness. "Follow me," he said, and started towards the lit doorway at the other end of the room. A sudden wave of coldness swept inside him, as he finally realized what he was doing. He had just walked into his opponent's trap, without any defenses or cunning plans. He felt completely powerless, and he wondered whatever made him so blind.
As if to answer his question, a mental image of Ginny flashed in his head. That's what he was there for — to save Ginny. Ginny, the Gryffindor. Ginny, a Weasley. If his mind wasn't so busy getting his legs to move, he would've laughed.
He was actually risking his life for a Gryffindor — a Weasley. Did he honestly care about her that much?
He blinked. When did he even start caring about her?
"You go here," came Goyle's grizzly voice. They were in a narrow hallways, poorly lit by a trail of candles hanging on the wall. There were two doors on either side of Draco, and Goyle was motioning towards the first door to Draco's right. The door was closed, though he could barely make out the sound of voices behind it.
"Why?" Draco drawled stubbornly.
"The Master said so," replied Goyle automatically.
Master? Draco arched a brow suspiciously, and opened his mouth to interrogate him when the door Goyle was referring to burst open. What followed was a loud squeal, originating from the tiny form of Blaise Zabini.
"Draco, honey!" she squealed, looking like her birthday had come early. She flung her arms out and lunged towards Draco. There wasn't enough room in the hallway, what with Goyle taking up most of it, so Draco couldn't avoid her hug. She wrapped her thin arms around him, surprising him with quite the grip, and pressed her ruby-red lips firmly against his own. Draco struggled to get out of her grasp, only causing her grip to tighten. The added pressure of her lips — and now tongue — over his mouth only made his breathing even more difficult.
Only the loud cough of Goyle made her break away. Blaise, now flushed and breathing hard, stared adoringly at Draco.
"I'm so glad you could come," she said, like she were welcoming him for a spot of tea.
Draco quickly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak. "What do you want, Blaise?" He was hardly in the mood for any stalling she planned on doing.
"Oh, so in a hurry," said Blaise playfully. "Don't you want to have some fun first?"
Draco snorted. "I shudder to think what your definition of 'fun' would be."
Blaise giggled. "You're so fiesty, Draco. Just like you always were. I'm glad to see that Gryffindor didn't change you too much."
"That Gryffindor had nothing to do with my 'change'," he spat. "Now what do you want?"
"Aren't you even going to ask where she is?" asked Blaise, pouting slightly. Though it was obvious to see how much fun she was having.
"I know how it works, Blaise," said Draco impatiently. "You're not going to reveal anything until you get what you want. Now what do you want?"
Blaise's tittering continued. "You're so smart," she simpered, and pointed her wand to an empty space beside Draco. "I'll tell you, but first we have to get rid of our other guests."
Before Draco's eyes could even widen, she shouted the body bind spell, and two loud thuds sounded in his ears. With a tinge of dread, Draco's eyes fell to the spot beside him, where he could just see the tip of Harry's shoe from underneath the Invisibility Cloak. There were no sounds that suggested that she missed.
Draco turned back to Blaise, who was tapping her wand in satisfaction. "H-How — ?" was all he could say, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.
Blaise grinned, her giggly school girl facade having dropped. "You honestly didn't think I was that stupid, did you?" she asked. Draco just gaped, making her grin grow.
"Shame, shame, Draco. Hadn't your father taught you anything?"
And with that, she raised her wand again, pointing it directly at Draco's heart. He didn't have time to react. Within the blink of an eye, he was subjected to the Crutiatus Curse.
Looking back at his face hurt her in more ways than one. He sat with one arm casually draped over the arm of his chair, while the other was raised to prop up his chin. His eyes were dark and hooded, yet the shape they had suggested his amusement. He was perfect. Everything, down to the way his silvery tresses fell over his eyes, pulled at her heart strings. Even his clothing. Rosa must've had some sort of fetish for leather, because the pants he had on shined like the dragon-hides Charlie often brought home.
And yet, no matter how uncanny, it was not the real Draco — something Ginny thought in disappointment. While Rosa had his sneer down pat, there was just no replacing the original. It amazed Ginny that she would actually know what the original was. Perhaps he'd gotten a lot closer to her than she may have thought.
The sudden thought of their moments together flashed through Ginny's mind, like a Muggle movie going on inside her head. She remembered their moment in the kitchens, if it could even be labeled as a 'moment'. He was civil — as civil as Draco Malfoy can get anyway. His sarcasm hadn't faded a bit, but she found herself missing him regardless.
Great Merlin, she thought. She actually missed him. Why? Why was it that he be the first person she thought of in a time so dire? The only other time she had been this frightened was in her first year. Inside the Chamber of Secrets. And the person she thought of then was... Harry.
A soft sound escaped from her mouth, sounding a lot like something close to, "duck". Oh boy, she thought. She couldn't. Not him. No. It was impossible. Illogical. Absurd! She couldn't...
Suddenly her heart beat hard against her chest, as if to prove itself. That was all Ginny needed to send the tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't. She just couldn't. It made absolutely no sense at all. How could she? Why would she? Yet, as her heart gave another loud thump, she couldn't help but admit that she actually did.
"No — not again," she pleaded, as she quietly gripped the ropes that binded her. Ginny Weasley would not allow herself to fall in love again. Her heart, however, had other plans.
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*I have no idea about this. I made it up completely. If it does happen to be true, then hurrah! — I'm a genius.
Also, draconii is the plural form of draconis. Just thought I'd clear that up.
Much love to all my reviewers! wolviesrogue, Joya, Robyn Maddison, ThePixieDustPoet, Exploiting Hypothesis, and Beth.
And contrary to a not-so popular belief, I have not given up on this fic. So you all haven't gotten rid of me yet! ;D
Chapter Fifteen; Sight, sound, and touch.