And she apologizes...
Well, this turned up (and took) longer than I expected. Yeesh, you have no idea how many rewrites this chapter had! *dies* But all for the good, I hope! Anyways, one of the main reasons the story's progressing so slowly was because of final exams -- yes, those wretched, evil little things. But no more, for summer has officially started! Hooray for me! Though I won't exactly have as much time as I normally would for this summer, considering my taking a self-enrichment class for summer school (blasted math!) and I've got a wedding to attend to in NY, meaning I will most probably be void of a computer for a full three weeks. But hey! At least it doesn't take me months to shell out a chapter, right? 'Sides, even amateur authors need a little sabatical to "recharge one's battaries". Btw, I'll admit right now what a review whore I am (-- but in a totally nice way!). So if you've got any sort of comment in mind while reading, please don't hesitate to click that review button! Authors like me thrive on it! o_o
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Chapter Fifteen: Heart, Body, and Mind
Hermione had never felt so useless. Here she was, a Head Girl graduate, sitting around in an office while her friends were off risking their lives. She was the top of her class! The cleverest witch of her time! Surely she was more useful than this. She sighed audibly, fingering the crystal paperweight on Dumbledore's desk. She had been in his office before, and she would've sworn that with every visit, more and more little gadgets filled it's space. Dumbledore himself was currently engrossed in getting all of the colors of a little cube on one side — a fascinating Muggle device, Dumbledore had told her in awe. Hermione noticed that the cube did not look any different than it had an hour ago. "Ahh!" said Dumbledore softly, his eyes lighting up as he held the cube in his hand triumphantly. He had managed to piece three purple blocks together. A slight twitch crept into Hermione's mouth, and before she knew it, she was smiling. She just had to smile. Possibly the greatest wizard of all time was sitting in front of her, feeling deathly proud of himself at the moment, all because he had managed to get the hang of a Muggle game. It was probably one of the many aspects of Dumbledore she admired. He was such a simple man, yet so powerful and wise. She secretly hoped that Dumbledore was right about sending her boys off with Draco. Not that she didn't trust the man, but she found the whole scene curious. The letter screamed of a trap, yet Dumbledore was so certain. Perhaps there was something he wasn't letting on... Hermione's eyes traced the lines on Dumbledore's forehead, which deepened due to his deep concentration on the cube. They seemed to have doubled since she saw him last. He looked so old, she thought, even with the Muggle game in hand. So old and tired. As if Dumbledore could detect her stare — which, considering that he is Dumbledore, he probably could — , turned to her and said, "You're doing the most you could right now." "How?" Her reply came out derisive, despite her better judgement. "How is sitting around, worrying like a mother helping them?" Dumbledore smiled softly. "For now, I'm afraid that's all you can do." Hermione shook her head, feeling greatly frustrated. "I'm tired Headmaster," she said softly. "Then perhaps you should retreat to the dorms," he added helpfully, but Hermione just shook her head again. "Not like that," she said, sighing. Her eyes suddenly glazed over, and her nose began to turn pink. "I'm tired of feeling so useless. I want to help them so much but..." She shook her head again, sniffling softly. "Nothing makes sense anymore." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at her, which she found oddly reassuring. "Have faith, Hermione," he said gently. "The time will come when all questions will be answered." "You wouldn't happen to know when that would be, would you?" asked Hermione, smiling weakly. "Ahh, well," said Dumbledore, looking sheepish, "as inconceivable as it sounds, I'm afraid that not even I know everything." "Please, sir," said Hermione desperately. If she had to stay in his office for another minute, she'd explode. "There has to be something we could do." Dumbledore smiled softly. "I have a few ideas," he said heavily, "but I dare not act upon them until I am certain of what is going on." "I thought you knew," said Hermione slowly. "Snape, he — " "Informed me of rumors," interrupted Dumbledore. He sighed. "Remember that during the War, Miss Granger, Severus was discovered to be the spy. His sources are no longer as stable as they used to be." Hermioned shook her head. "I can't keep waiting around like this, Professor. I just have to be there!" Dumbledore smiled at the young witch. It was not so long ago that she had been off searching for trouble with her friends. They had always been a unit, Dumbledore thought. They leaned on one another — finding strength in each other. So much like the Marauders, he thought with a nostalgic smile. Looking determined, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "There is something," he said, and straightened his back against his chair. Hermione looked at him hopefully. "But I'm afraid I'm too old to perform it," he added hastily, eyeing Hermione. Hermione's brows shot up a notch at his hinting. "Oh!" she gasped, feeling oddly sheepish. "Oh, of course!" Dumbledore's face broke into a smile. "Wonderful," he said, and began waving about his wand. "Don't you worry, Miss Granger," he said reassuringly, "I assure you — the pain is not that bad." Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief at the micheivious twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. But before she could say anything, an odd, burning feeling began to sprout behind her eyes. Instinctively, she shut them. Her eyes watered as the burning pain increased. Her hands flew up to her eyes, rubbing them with all her might in hopes to make the pain stop. It was like her eyes were on fire! There was an unusual, twisting feeling right behind her retinas, like someone was carving on them. "Don't fight it," came Dumbledore's gentle voice. But Hermione hardly heard him. Her eyes felt like they would disintegrate at any moment! A cry unwillingly escaped her lips as Hermione doubled over in the pain. Then suddenly it stopped. The pain was gone. Hermione opened her tear-soaked eyes, wide from the experience. She blinked up at Dumbledore, only to see him smiling proudly at her. And then he was gone. Her line of vision blurred and contorted, twisting about like it were water disturbed. The swirling colors went on for what felt like minutes when they began to swirl back in place. But she was no longer in Dumbledore's office. She was in a room. A dark room where the only light was supplied by a few sticks of candle carelessly placed about. Then she saw them. Sitting with their backs against a wall, just past the large and dusty bed that the room held. "What do you see?" came Dumbledore's voice, soft and muffled. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but found a voice not of her own answering back. "I see them," she said, in a voice that sounded neither man nor women. The misty air she spoke in vaguely reminded her of the droning tone Professor Trelawney always used to use. "Where are they?" coaxed Dumbledore. "In the House," she answered, without thinking. She blinked. How did she know that? "Are they alone?" Dumbledore continued. "Yes," she was going to say, but stopped. The lighting in the room only gave her a glance at her boys, but a loud thump in the pit of her gut told her the truth. "No," she answered, her tone low and hollow. "No, they're not."
* * *
Rosa, still in her Draco guise, regarded Ginny with curiosity. The little girl had completely broken down, and was sobbing soundly into her hands. She had never seen anyone quite so... open. It was greatly disturbing. "Stop your wailing," she ordered, the words blanketed with Draco Malfoy's voice. Ginny sniffled. Sheepishly she glanced over her fingers, bloodshot eyes eyeing her with something that looked a lot like fear. "I didn't realize Draco Malfoy brought out that kind of reaction from you," said Rosa, fashioning a half-smile in Draco's lips. Ginny hiccoughed. She dropped her hands to her lap, and lowered her head in hopes to hide her puffy face. Her wrists were red and bleeding from all of her attempts to break through the ropes, but nothing hurt her more than having to look at Draco. "Change back," she said, then added a soft, "please." Rosa/Draco looked unfazed. "Why does the sight of this boy hurt you so?" she asked, thoroughly intrigued. Ginny gave her a dry look. "He called me Weasel." Rosa/Draco narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're crying because he called you names?" "Well, they were really foul names." "Are you being smart with me?" asked Rosa, perfecting the Draco glare. Ginny suppressed a shudder at its uncanniness. "I'm not ever going to tell you, so you might as well stop your interrogating." She paused. Rosa was staring at her with an excited look in Draco's eyes. "What?" she asked, frowning. "You care for him." It was not a question. Ginny stiffened her back. "I care for a lot of people." "Yes, but you care for him," said Rosa. She giggled — or Draco did. Either way, it sent chills down Ginny's spine. "You love this boy!" "I do not!" Ginny shouted, and began to wriggle her hands free from the rope. "You probably don't even know what love is!" Rosa/Draco grinned darkly. "I've been around for a long time, little girl. I know love when I see it." "Right," said Ginny, concentrating more on the ropes than on Rosa. Rosa rolled Draco's eyes. "Don't bother," she said, "this room's been charmed. Anyone else can come in and out besides you." Ginny growled under her breath. "So then what was the rope for? Added effect?" Rosa shrugged. "Even us bad guys like to do our share of dramatics." Ginny uttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "witch". Rosa was unfazed. "How can you love this boy?" said Rosa thoughtfully. "I've been watching him — you two have barely had a moment alone. Love can't possibly bloom from your trivial meetings." Ginny grinned without mirth. "Then you obviously don't know that much about love as you lead on." Rosa shook Draco's head stubbornly. "It makes no sense. You can't possibly love him." "Accept it already," said Ginny darkly. "I have." There was a long silence. Ginny had given up on her ropes and was currently absorbed in watching an ant crawl across the bed. She simply refused to look back at Rosa, not while she was still in Draco garb. "You're careless with your heart," said Rosa. There was a soft whooshing sound and Rosa was once again back to her smutty self. Ginny ventured a glance at her. With much resignation, she nodded her agreement. There was a foreign look in Rosa's face that looked as if she understood. Ginny highly doubted it. "That will be your end someday," said Rosa softly. Slowly, she got up and sat at the foot of the bed, lowering her head so her eyes were level with Ginny's. And she saw it. There, hidden behind the innocent shimmer of Ginny's brown eyes, was a love — so strong, yet so uncertain. "Why do you love him so much?" Ginny sniffled. She really didn't want to talk about Draco right then. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. She hesitated. "I think," she said, her voice soft and full of regret, "that he reminds me of someone I used to love..."
* * *
Ow. Pain, pain, and more pain. That was basically all Draco could think of. And it wasn't like the kind of pain he felt when he fell off his broom during Quidditch, because it bruised his ego more than it did his body. This pain was the kind that made you wish your were dead. It was pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, because contrary to popular belief, his father never exposed him to the Crutiatus Curse. Sure, there were your standard beatings or exposure to deadly bugs every now and then, but Lucius never used Dark Curses against his own son — possibly one of the only traits Draco admired him for. Every inch of his body continued to ache, even after he realized that the Curse had ended. He opened his eyes, never knowing he was even closing them. The blurry image of Blaise Zabini grew into focus as she bent over to observe him. The firm concrete he felt behind his back and head led him to conclude that he had fallen on the ground. For how long he had been on the ground, however, he did not know. Though it felt like an eternity for his body. Blaise's face split into a toothy grin once she realized that Draco was awake. "Rise and shine!" she sang, not knowing that her words pounded in Draco's head. Or maybe she did and that was the whole point. "Urgh," was all Draco could say. He really wanted to say more, preferably all profanity, but it hurt to even breathe. Blaise began to click her tongue. "Poor baby," she said, pretending to look sympathetic while her eyes were full of glee. She held Draco by the sides and propped him up against the wall that was behind him. Even with his winter cloak on, he could still feel her cold hands against his skin. She smiled when he shivered. "Yes, it is a bit drafty in here," she said casually. "Though your friends weren't complaining much." Draco's eyes trailed over to the opposite wall. Harry and Ron were sitting against the wall, much like he was, with their heads sagging to the side slightly. They looked slightly battered and unconscious. The Invisibility Cloak was no where in sight. Blaise shook her pretty little head. "Gryffindors, Draco?" she asked in criticism. "You're much of a traitor than I thought you were." Draco managed a sneer. "You know there's a word for people like you," he croaked. "It starts with a 'b' and it ends with an 'otch'." While the look he got from her was highly entertaining, the long sentence left him out of breath and panting. "You fancy yourself funny, don't you?" growled Blaise. "We'll see how funny you are once I'm done with you." Draco managed to make a rude gesture with his hands, making Blaise's eyes flash. "Take him away," she ordered and walked over to the other side of the room to examine Harry and Ron. Goyle, who had been standing by the door on Draco's right, grunted and lifted Draco up by his collars, as simply as a child would a doll. "You chose the wrong side, Malfoy," Goyle glared, lifting Draco high enough that his feet no longer made contact with the ground. "Now there's something I don't often hear," said Draco, not being able to resist. Aggravating people was like second nature to him. Goyle contorted his face into a sneer so distorted that Draco couldn't help but think, "amateur". "I wouldn't be so smart right now," he warned, "you're already getting on the Master's nerves." Draco mustered up all of his energy to smile proudly. Goyle scowled and tightened his grip around Draco's collars. "Goyle!" shouted Blaise, from her spot beside Ron. "I said 'take him away'!" Goyle certainly looked like he was battling some sort of internal conflict when he lowered Draco and began to drag him out of the room. What a way to travel, Draco thought, as Goyle purposely hit his head against the door frame for the second time. He vaguely heard the sound of doors opening when Goyle suddenly threw him — effortlessly too! — a great distance away. He hit the wall with a sickening crunch and fell to the floor for the second time that day. It wasn't all that bad, considering he was already starting numb thanks to the Cruciatus Curse. He heard a cry from somewhere above him and a lot of feet movement going on around him. His eyes were starting to dilate from the darkness of the room he was put in, and he was hardly aware of the little redhead that was currently struggling to get to his side. "Draco!" came a muffled voice. He felt rough taps against his cheeks. Two large brown eyes soon came into focus and he dreamily blinked at them, not really knowing what was going on. Suddenly, the eyes disappeared, and he was forced to look up at a tall, curvy woman with hair as dark as Harry's. The woman was currently engaged in a conversation with Goyle, who was holding the owner of the brown eyes around the waist. "Aren't they going to preform it already?" came the woman's sultry voice. Goyle shook his large head. "They said the potion's not ready yet," he explained. "It's nearly midnight," growled the woman, sounding very impatient. "How long before the potion's done?" Goyle shrugged. "Blaise said — " "And what about the others?" interrupted the woman. She sounded very grumpy. "What are they planning to do with them?" "Leave 'em to the Dark Lord, I guess," Goyle replied, not without a hint of amusement. The woman nodded, then looked at Draco, who just blinked at her. "Should I tie him up?" "Nah," said Goyle, chuckling. "He won't be able to do anything for a long while." He tossed the girl he held in his hands to the side, effectively aiming her towards the bed beside Draco, and walked out. The woman lingered around for a while to give Draco a measuring sort of look, before leaving herself. Draco allowed himself to let out the groan he had been struggling to keep in once the door was shut. Almost immediately, a squeal came from the bed beside him, and, within the span of a millisecond, something heavy thrust itself towards him. "Oof!" he gasped, feeling whatever wind he had left knocked out of him. "Oh, Draco!" said the something that was currently squeezing the life out of him. He could just imagine his face turning a lovely shade of blue. "Uh..." "I was so worried!" it continued, sobbing its words into his shoulder. "Blaise — what she said!" "Uh," he said again, and panicked when he heard something that sounded an awful lot like a bone snap. "Dammit, Weasley, let go of me!" he shouted, using his lungs to its full extent. Immediately, Ginny let go, and air was once again able to fill up his lungs. "Sorry," said Ginny in a tiny voice. The red tint on her face suggested that she was feeling very stupid. Draco groaned. Slowly, he tried to adjust his sitting position so his spine wasn't so crooked. Doing this left him completely breathless. Dammit, he thought, and wondered how long Blaise had put that blasted curse on him. "Draco," said Ginny again, her eyes wide and frightened. She was currently kneeling beside him. Her hair was tousled and sticking out in odd directions while her skin was dirty with dust. A small red line just above her right eye shined against the candlelight and her wrists were red and bloody. Yet, all in all, she was more breathtaking than any sort of physical exercise would ever be. Well, he thought with a sly grin, maybe not all. "You," Ginny breathed, brows crinkling, "look terrible." Draco blinked. He figured he must have, after being thrown around as much as he was. He fixed on a dark look and quickly looked away, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself. His hair must've looked terrible. "What happened?" Ginny wondered, inching closer towards him. "I fell." Ginny staggered, thrown. She gave him a calculating look. "You... fell." "Gravity is a cruel mistress," said Draco solemnly. Ginny glared. Draco smiled. He was glad to know that under his weak state he was still able to annoy people. "You're impossible," said Ginny, and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Oh no," assured Draco, grinning slyly, "I'm quite possible." Ginny pulled a face. "Is that all you guys ever think about?" Draco chuckled weakly — laughing hurt his chest too much. "Only when a game's not on." "Guys are disgusting," pouted Ginny. She looked highly disappointed. Draco tried to make his position more comfortable — which was a tad bit hard considering he was surrounded by concrete. The bed, while reaking of dust and mold, looked a lot cozier than the floor. Ginny caught the look in his eyes and sighed resignedly. "Do you need help?" she asked, voice dripping of sympathy. He gave her a blank, uncomprehending look. "Help?" "To get on the bed," she said. Draco grinned. "I didn't know you were that kind of girl." Ginny glared. Whatever sympathy she felt for Draco quickly vanished. She stood up quickly, her hands on her hips and looking murderous. "Nevermind. I don't know what I was thinking." She stomped off towards the bed herself, and sank into it, pouting like a child. Draco set his jaw. Gingerly, he raised his left arm and began to examine it, turning it over slightly. In experiment, he began to stretch out his fingers and curl them in. At least his wand hand was still usable. He began to do the same with his right hand and legs, eventually getting enough strength to crawl around. With a large amount of difficulty, he stood up, using the wall as support and stumbled towards the bed where Ginny sat, back against the headboard and arms folded across her chest. "Move over," grunted Draco, and plopped down on the spot beside her. He let out a loud and relieved sigh as he finally felt something other than solid rock hit his head. A loud "hmph!" came from the side where Ginny sat, but Draco quickly learned to ignore it. He was far too busy taking in the comfort from the soft pillows around him. "If you really did fall, it was incredibly stupid in your part," said Ginny suddenly. She was obviously refusing to let it go. Draco tightly shut his eyes. Couldn't she tell he was exhausted? "Yes — I am incredibly stupid." He shifted around so that his back was facing her. Ginny seemed unfazed. "And does everything you say have to drip with sarcasm?" "Would you prefer soft malice?" he asked lightly. "I would prefer sincerity," said Ginny, sounding hurt. Draco opened his eyes and sighed. He shifted around so his back was flat against the mattress and his eyes were staring straight up at the ceiling. "Have you ever heard of the Cruciatus Curse?" The memory of the tiny spider writhing in her lap flashed through Ginny's mind. She held up a hand to her mouth and stared at Draco. "They put the Cruciatus Curse on you?" she gasped, looking near tears. Draco shrugged. Actually, it was more like a twitch in his right shoulder. "It wasn't that bad," he lied. Truthfully, he was surprised he could even talk. He'd heard horrible stories about people who had been put on the Cruciatus Curse, Neville Longbottom's parents being one of them. It was not something he was ever fond of hearing about. Suddenly, he felt something soft and warm touch his cheek. He blinked in surprise upon realizing that it was Ginny's hand. "What are you doing?" he asked, somewhat panicked, as she put her other hand on his chest. "I'm checking your heartbeat," she said softly, concentrating on the soft thumps beneath his chest. They were growing rapid with every minute her hands were on him. "Why?" he asked, though he was not at all complaining to her touch. She was gentler and warmer than Blaise had ever been. "I'd learned it from Hermione," she answered. "You're supposed to check a victims heartbeat after they've been hit with that curse. See, the Cruciatus Curse doesn't just do physical damage, but internal damage as well. If it's been put on long enough, it stops the heart from giving out the right amount of blood." She paused and look down at Draco in surprise. His hand was firmly placed over her own. "You're warm," he said, smiling softly and shaking under her hand. She suddenly realized the slight shade of purple his lips had taken on. "There are some blankets over there," Ginny said rather lamely, "if you're cold." She was vaguely aware that this had been the closest she'd ever been to a man — let alone Draco. Draco shook his head slightly, and slowly closed his eyes. "I like your heat." He still held her hand as he slowly drifted off into sleep. Ginny bit her lip. He was delirious, that's it. The Cruciatus Curse was taking it's toll and he was hysterical. He couldn't have meant anything from his previous words. Right? Ginny shook her head, feeling thoroughly ashamed for some odd reason. She looked around them. There were sheets and blankets at the foot of the bed, though she'd have to remove her hand from Draco if she were to get them. And as much as she hated to admit it, she liked having his hand over hers. But he was beginning to shiver. Gingerly, she replaced the hand Draco held with her other, and stretched across the bed to reach for a blanket. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, Ginny couldn't help but smile as she spread the blanket over him. Despite his battered state, he looked almost peaceful as he slept. With his hair spread around his head, looking almost like a silver halo, he strongly reminded her of those angels her mother told her about. "What have I gotten myself into?" she said softly, watching him sleep, and only heard the soft exhale of his breath as a reply. She shook her head softly, and nestled against the headboard, keeping a good distance away from him while her hand was still in his own. She sighed. She noticed the way his eyes weren't completely closed, and how every now and then they'd flicker. He must be dreaming, she thought, and smiled. She wondered what a person like Draco Malfoy dreamt about.
* * *
Harry awoke, feeling like he had been sleep for years. Gravity seemed to have a special liking to him, as he could barely lift his own eyelids. He tried to move his head, which only sent a sharp pain to shoot through it. He heard a groan from somewhere beside him. "Fuck," someone uttered. Harry knew that mouth anywhere. "Ron?" Ron made a slight gasping sound and then a low, "Harry?" Harry immediately forced open his eyes. They were in a poor lit room, but he was close enough to Ron to see him. He was sitting beside him, legs out and arms limp. There was a long cut near his ear, and dirt covered most of his clothes and face. He looked terrible. Harry figured he looked similar, if not worse. "Where are we?" groaned Ron, as he tried to straighten his back. Harry looked around. They were in an old bedroom, he could tell, from all the old furniture that surrounded them. There was a mirror on the wall across them. It was tall and circular, with a silver lining and the words 'eest onna csey etahw woh si' engraved along the edges. His Invisibility Cloak was no where in sight. "I'm guessing somewhere inside the Riddle House," he answered, somewhat gloomily. "How do you feel?" "Like my head just exploded," said Ron, and rubbed his tired eyes. "I think they drugged us or something." "Just be happy that's all they did," said Harry, frowning. He had been trying to get his fingers to move, but they were being rather stubborn. Ron groaned into his hands. "Damned Malfoy. This is all his fault." Harry smiled grimly. "Do you really think so?" "Yes!" shouted Ron. "If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't even be here — " "With a shot at rescuing your sister," interjected Harry. Ron sent him a dark look. "Are you sticking up for him?" Harry returned the look. "No, but I'm not blaming him either. I'm just saying — no one could've seen that coming. I mean, who would know that Blaise could see us?" "Well, who would you blame?" asked Ron. Harry blinked, then gave him a small smile. "The same person I always blame," he said solemnly. Ron stared. Harry was gazing up at the ceiling with an unusually calm look, his green eyes looking darker than they'd ever been, having grown dim with every passing nightmare he had to live and relive. Only then did Ron realize just how fucked up fate could be. "This had nothing to do with you," said Ron, his voice low and hoarse. Harry chuckled without much mirth. "Yeah," he said, still glancing at the ceiling. He said nothing else. Ron looked away. He hated it when Harry put the weight of the world on his shoulders, thinking every single thing was his fault. Harry was the last person who deserved to bare that kind of burden. It wasn't fair. None of it was. There was a long pause. Then, "Well, well," said a silky voice from between the doorway. The owner of the voice moved towards them, causing the flowing black gown she wore to billow behind her, while two large men stood on either side, making her look smaller than she really was. She bent down so her eyes were level to Harry's, a sharp smirk tugging at her blood-red lips and illuminating her pug-like face. "It seems as if you've finally waken up."
* * *
The fire was gone. Comfort, safety, and everything else he felt with the fire had disappeared. He felt oddly empty. Figures in black cloaks formed a circle around him, all keeping impossibly still as if there were no life underneath the hoods. A winter chill hung in the air, penetrating even the leather he wore. The figure before him had its hand outstretched expectantly. It held a dagger in its free hand, moving it in the little light that the room offered. Without thinking, Draco held out his hand. The figure cut him, and he watched as his blood flowed unto his skin, then trickle down to the floor. But he didn't care anymore. The fire was gone. Draco kept his eyes closed, even after he had awoken. He'd never had that dream before. Somehow he felt that having it now in that house meant nothing good. He finally opened his eyes, giving in to the instinctive urge. He looked around him, hoping to find himself in some other place. But life once again proves it's unfairness as his eyes took in a dim bedroom of the Riddle House. Something stirred beside him. Warily, he glanced over his shoulder and found Ginny Weasley sleeping soundlessly by his side, an arm draped over his chest with her hand clutched into his. He blinked. Like a tidal wave, it all came back to him. Goyle, Blaise, the Crutiatus Curse, Ginny... His eyes traveled back to the girl beside him. Her head was conveniently nestled between his right shoulder and chest, and her breath ruffled the collars of his shirt. She was warm. And very close. Get a grip, he told himself. She's a child — a Weasley child. You can't be lusting after a Weasley. He shut his eyes, and began counting backwards from 100. Ginny had yet to wake up. He was in the 30s when he decided that counting wouldn't take his mind off her, especially after she began to make smacking noises with her lips. Without knowing what so, he gripped her hand tightly, shutting his eyes even tighter. Ginny moaned softly (Draco nearly screamed at this point), and her eyes fluttered open. Groggily, she looked around the room. When her eyes landed on Draco, he smiled weakly. She blinked as her face began to explore the many shades of red. None of them moved — not that they wanted to. But Draco thought he had better say something before she discovered a new color. "Um..." "Er..." Ginny bit her lip. Draco desperately wished for a cold shower. "I must have fallen asleep," said Ginny, looking sheepish. "It seems that way," smiled Draco. Simultaneously, they sat up, Draco feeling cold once Ginny had let go on his hand. He began to stretch his back and neck, feeling as stiff as a board. "I wish there was a clock in here," said Ginny sadly. "Then I'd know how long I'd been in this blasted room." "Somehow," said Draco, "I doubt that would help lighten the mood." Ginny sighed heavily. She wrapped her arms around herself, and sniffed. "I want to go home." She began to sob quietly, and Draco suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Awkwardly, he pat her back, praying she'd stop. Crying girls always tore at him for some reason. "There there," he said lamely. "Um, I'm sure you'll be there in no time." Ginny choked on her laugh. "Right," she said, and wiped her tears with her sleeves. "You know you're terrible at this cheering up stuff." She smiled at him. "But thanks for trying." Draco grinned without mirth. "Well, what would you expect from someone like me?" Ginny gave him a stubborn look. "Why do you keep putting yourself down?" she asked, turning towards him. "I'm not," said Draco seriously. "I don't need to. I'm already 'down'. Hell, I'm the king of down." Ginny's expression softened. "I don't think you are." "And you're some sort of expert on me," said Draco, arching a brow. Ginny shook her head, sending her auburn tresses into the air. "I don't need to be," she said softly. "I know bad, Draco, and you're not it." Something foreign flashed through Draco's eyes as he stared back into her's. "Since when do you call me Draco?" he asked, in the same soft voice she used on him. Ginny grinned, and said, with the same air he used when he first said it that one night in the kitchens, "I'd like to think that one day, a Weasley and a Malfoy can be civil toward one another." Draco actually laughed. The action caused a sharp pain to shoot through his chest. Before he could stop himself, he clutched his chest and winced. Ginny's light attitude turned into concern. She raised a hand, as if to comfort him but she immediately stopped herself. It was best if she made the least amount of physical contact with him as possible. Instead, she asked if he was okay. He nodded his reply, though not without another wince. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling like she would cry again. "For what?" Draco asked, looking amused. "For this," replied Ginny, gesturing around her. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so careless, I wouldn't have been kidnapped, and you wouldn't be here, and have had to suffer, and — " Draco shook his head. "None of this is your fault," he said with conviction. "No," said Ginny in a low voice, "it is. It always is." Draco was suddenly brought back to his second year, back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. While the staff did their best to hide the truth, Draco had always known that it was Ginny who opened it. But he never thought that she actually blamed herself for it. If anyone was to blame, it was his damned Father for giving her that diary. "You're being too hard on yourself," said Draco. "This has nothing to do with you." Whether or not that was a lie, he did not know. But something told him it was the right thing to say. Ginny sniffed. "You don't know that," she said sadly. "I do," he said sharply, then in a softer voice he added, "if anything, it's me." Ginny blinked her growing tears at him, confused. "You?" Draco nodded, and leaned back against the headboard to stare up at the ceiling. "When you were kidnapped, Blaise sent me a letter. She told me to come here for you." Ginny couldn't comprehend it. "Why?" Apparently, Draco couldn't either. "Beats me. All I know is that she wanted me and me alone to come here, using you as bait — that bitch," he added with harsh malice. "So really, it's my fault you're even here." Ginny's brows blended together as she absorbed this new information. "You came here," she said slowly, trying to understand, "just because of me?" An odd expression blanketed Draco's face — like he was trying to hide whatever it was he was feeling. The overall effect just made him look like he was constipated. Ginny tried her hardest not to laugh and ruin such a serious moment. "I didn't come alone," Draco finally answered. Ginny frowned slightly, as he didn't really answer her question. "Potter and Weasley are in another room." The mention of her brother and friend quickly diminished whatever disappointment she felt. She suddenly felt hopeful. "Ron and Harry's here? Where are they? What happened?" Draco nodded. "Knocked out." Boy, was he blunt. "So why are you the one here with me?" Draco thought about this. In truth, he really didn't know. But he wasn't about to let Ginny know that. With heavy sincerity he answered, "I'm prettier." Ginny sputtered her laughter. "What does that have to do with anything?" "Everything," said Draco, looking hurt. "It's a universal rule: the pretty ones get the girls." Ginny smirked. Draco found himself loving the way a tiny dimple appeared just over the corner of her mouth when she did so. "I thought it was the heros who got the girls," she said, and Draco scoffed. "If that were true," said Draco derisively, "then Potter'd be the one in here." Ginny chose to ignore the tinge of bitterness in his voice. "It's not like you have any competition," she said lightly. "Ron's my brother, and Harry's... Well, Harry's Harry." Draco looked unfazed. "So?" "So that means you aren't necessarily the prettiest or the best choice if you consider the other pickings." Draco thought about that. He scrunched up his brows in thought, causing the corners of Ginny's lips to quirk up. She couldn't help but admit how cute he looked when he was thinking. She nearly giggled at the way he'd chew on his bottom lip. Suddenly his eyes lit up. With a snap of his fingers, he said, triumphantly, "You said necessarily. There's doubt. You think I'm pretty." That made her giggle. She didn't admit it, but she didn't deny it either. Victory was his. "Admit it," he teased, "I'm the prettiest." "Yes," she smiled, "you're the prettiest boy in this room." Draco put on a satisfied grin. At least it was something. The aftereffects of the Crutiatus Curse was slowly, but surely, going away, and he was able to move around a lot quicker. In experiment, he sat up and sat cross-legged. Ginny made a sort of choking noise, and he looked up to see that she was suppressing a smile. "What?" he asked her, brow arched. "Nothing," she said, smiling furtively. Draco continued to eye her suspiciously when she burst into giggles. Now he was just annoyed. "What?" Ginny placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself. It didn't work. "It's just," she tittered, "you — sitting — like that!" Draco looked down at himself and frowned. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing!" she said, though she was still giggling. "I just never imagined Draco Malfoy to sit in such a...," she searched for the appropriate word, "common manner." Draco's frown grew. "I'm not that much of a twit, am I?" "You were," said Ginny smugly, after having finally finished her giggle fit. "People change," he said indignantly. "You did," Ginny smiled. Draco gave her a satisfied nod. Her warm smile grew sly. "I guess miracles do happen." "Ha, ha." Ginny grinned. "Although I should've known something was fishy since that one night in the kitchens. I mean, Draco Malfoy in flannel pajamas?" "Cotton-polyester," Draco muttered darkly. "And pink bunny slippers," sneered Ginny. Draco glared. She was getting too cocky. "You know you talk an awful lot," said Draco, looking stern. Ginny blushed, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I know," she said, chuckling a bit. "My brothers are always complaining about what a big mouth I have." Draco's left eye twitched. Oh come on, his mind reasoned with him, she's practically asking for it! His eyes twinkled mischievously. "I think your mouth is fine." Then he leaned forward. Ginny blinked at him. She was leaning back, with wide eyes and an open mouth. His lips were so close to her's that one more nudge and he would've been kissing her. But he saw her eyes. Large and brown, like the shade of chocolate. So full of youth and innocence. Something inside Draco churned. She still had her innocence. Draco had been so void of his for so long, he wondered if he ever had innocence to begin with. But she still had her's. She was still a child. Fragile like a flower that could wilt at the touch of something as grave as himself, whose hands had been stained with the blood of his own father. He couldn't bare to stain her hands as well. Draco sighed. He felt so very tired. Slowly, he lowered his head, causing his hair to fall over his eyes like a waterfall of silver. Ginny watched him curiously. Within the span of 20 seconds she had seen Draco's face twist into different emotions, each new expression contradicting the latter. It was, quite possibly, the most open she had ever seen him be. "Draco?" came her small and uncertain voice. When he didn't reply, her hand impulsively landed on his shoulder, and she called him with uncertainty. "Draco?" she tried again, wondering why he was acting so strangely. Then — without so much as a signal or hint — Draco crept closer, filled the tiny space between them, and held her, letting the silence and warmth be his only answer.
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Chapter Sixteen; In which secrets are revealed, Blaise gets vicious, and Dumbledore's actually WRONG?!
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Credits, thank you's, and excuses...
*makes a face* Does anyone else notice how much dialogue I use? @_#; Oy, I'm going to have to work on that... Anyhoo, the little diddy Draco said to Blaise somewhere in the beginning ("b-otch") was a quote from a trailer of an anime show I saw called 'GTO' or... something like that. Um, the "gravity" comment Draco said to Ginny is from the outstanding HP fic called "The Draco Trilogy"; if you haven't read those yet, I highly recommend that you do! 'Tis bloody brilliant. Oh, and five chocolate frogs to the person who can guess what the engravement on the Mirror says. =P And before anyone goes flaming me in the reviews, I realize that Ginny connecting Draco with "someone she used to love" (i.e. TOM), is a bit overdone. It'll all be resolved in the next chapter, so keep your shirt on. (Unless you happen to be Tom Felton, so in that case, disregard what I just said and take pictures. =^^=) Also, can't forget to gives thanks to my reviewers! I'd get all corny here and say how much you guys brighten my day with your words of encouragement, but I've got chapters to finish writing! And FYI, I've got summer school and a vacation coming up so I want to apologize before hand if Ch. 16 takes longer than usual, kidok? ^^; Joya (you can expect the bugs and the leather pants to return soon! ;D), Eiko (awe, 'Ko, it's okay; I know how much you LOVE Draco *grins*), Robyn Maddison (I'm so thrilled by your words, honestly I am! I hope the fic turns out worthy of your praise), Beth (yes, I haven't given up, and never will, unless I were to suddely be hit in the head by a large boulder and lost all sense of writing; as it's not likely, then you'll know this fic will end sooner or later), ThePixieDustPoet ('course I'd mention you! I can never have enough love for my reviewers, and I'll see what I can do about those sexy descriptions. ;D), and dracos-gurl (you're much too kind! I can't tell you what an ego-boost that was! *hugs*) Much Love,
Jonah (bad-faith.net) Ahah! I see your mouse hovering over that review button! What are you waiting for? Click, I say! Click!
Well, this turned up (and took) longer than I expected. Yeesh, you have no idea how many rewrites this chapter had! *dies* But all for the good, I hope! Anyways, one of the main reasons the story's progressing so slowly was because of final exams -- yes, those wretched, evil little things. But no more, for summer has officially started! Hooray for me! Though I won't exactly have as much time as I normally would for this summer, considering my taking a self-enrichment class for summer school (blasted math!) and I've got a wedding to attend to in NY, meaning I will most probably be void of a computer for a full three weeks. But hey! At least it doesn't take me months to shell out a chapter, right? 'Sides, even amateur authors need a little sabatical to "recharge one's battaries". Btw, I'll admit right now what a review whore I am (-- but in a totally nice way!). So if you've got any sort of comment in mind while reading, please don't hesitate to click that review button! Authors like me thrive on it! o_o
Chapter Fifteen: Heart, Body, and Mind
Hermione had never felt so useless. Here she was, a Head Girl graduate, sitting around in an office while her friends were off risking their lives. She was the top of her class! The cleverest witch of her time! Surely she was more useful than this. She sighed audibly, fingering the crystal paperweight on Dumbledore's desk. She had been in his office before, and she would've sworn that with every visit, more and more little gadgets filled it's space. Dumbledore himself was currently engrossed in getting all of the colors of a little cube on one side — a fascinating Muggle device, Dumbledore had told her in awe. Hermione noticed that the cube did not look any different than it had an hour ago. "Ahh!" said Dumbledore softly, his eyes lighting up as he held the cube in his hand triumphantly. He had managed to piece three purple blocks together. A slight twitch crept into Hermione's mouth, and before she knew it, she was smiling. She just had to smile. Possibly the greatest wizard of all time was sitting in front of her, feeling deathly proud of himself at the moment, all because he had managed to get the hang of a Muggle game. It was probably one of the many aspects of Dumbledore she admired. He was such a simple man, yet so powerful and wise. She secretly hoped that Dumbledore was right about sending her boys off with Draco. Not that she didn't trust the man, but she found the whole scene curious. The letter screamed of a trap, yet Dumbledore was so certain. Perhaps there was something he wasn't letting on... Hermione's eyes traced the lines on Dumbledore's forehead, which deepened due to his deep concentration on the cube. They seemed to have doubled since she saw him last. He looked so old, she thought, even with the Muggle game in hand. So old and tired. As if Dumbledore could detect her stare — which, considering that he is Dumbledore, he probably could — , turned to her and said, "You're doing the most you could right now." "How?" Her reply came out derisive, despite her better judgement. "How is sitting around, worrying like a mother helping them?" Dumbledore smiled softly. "For now, I'm afraid that's all you can do." Hermione shook her head, feeling greatly frustrated. "I'm tired Headmaster," she said softly. "Then perhaps you should retreat to the dorms," he added helpfully, but Hermione just shook her head again. "Not like that," she said, sighing. Her eyes suddenly glazed over, and her nose began to turn pink. "I'm tired of feeling so useless. I want to help them so much but..." She shook her head again, sniffling softly. "Nothing makes sense anymore." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at her, which she found oddly reassuring. "Have faith, Hermione," he said gently. "The time will come when all questions will be answered." "You wouldn't happen to know when that would be, would you?" asked Hermione, smiling weakly. "Ahh, well," said Dumbledore, looking sheepish, "as inconceivable as it sounds, I'm afraid that not even I know everything." "Please, sir," said Hermione desperately. If she had to stay in his office for another minute, she'd explode. "There has to be something we could do." Dumbledore smiled softly. "I have a few ideas," he said heavily, "but I dare not act upon them until I am certain of what is going on." "I thought you knew," said Hermione slowly. "Snape, he — " "Informed me of rumors," interrupted Dumbledore. He sighed. "Remember that during the War, Miss Granger, Severus was discovered to be the spy. His sources are no longer as stable as they used to be." Hermioned shook her head. "I can't keep waiting around like this, Professor. I just have to be there!" Dumbledore smiled at the young witch. It was not so long ago that she had been off searching for trouble with her friends. They had always been a unit, Dumbledore thought. They leaned on one another — finding strength in each other. So much like the Marauders, he thought with a nostalgic smile. Looking determined, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "There is something," he said, and straightened his back against his chair. Hermione looked at him hopefully. "But I'm afraid I'm too old to perform it," he added hastily, eyeing Hermione. Hermione's brows shot up a notch at his hinting. "Oh!" she gasped, feeling oddly sheepish. "Oh, of course!" Dumbledore's face broke into a smile. "Wonderful," he said, and began waving about his wand. "Don't you worry, Miss Granger," he said reassuringly, "I assure you — the pain is not that bad." Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief at the micheivious twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. But before she could say anything, an odd, burning feeling began to sprout behind her eyes. Instinctively, she shut them. Her eyes watered as the burning pain increased. Her hands flew up to her eyes, rubbing them with all her might in hopes to make the pain stop. It was like her eyes were on fire! There was an unusual, twisting feeling right behind her retinas, like someone was carving on them. "Don't fight it," came Dumbledore's gentle voice. But Hermione hardly heard him. Her eyes felt like they would disintegrate at any moment! A cry unwillingly escaped her lips as Hermione doubled over in the pain. Then suddenly it stopped. The pain was gone. Hermione opened her tear-soaked eyes, wide from the experience. She blinked up at Dumbledore, only to see him smiling proudly at her. And then he was gone. Her line of vision blurred and contorted, twisting about like it were water disturbed. The swirling colors went on for what felt like minutes when they began to swirl back in place. But she was no longer in Dumbledore's office. She was in a room. A dark room where the only light was supplied by a few sticks of candle carelessly placed about. Then she saw them. Sitting with their backs against a wall, just past the large and dusty bed that the room held. "What do you see?" came Dumbledore's voice, soft and muffled. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but found a voice not of her own answering back. "I see them," she said, in a voice that sounded neither man nor women. The misty air she spoke in vaguely reminded her of the droning tone Professor Trelawney always used to use. "Where are they?" coaxed Dumbledore. "In the House," she answered, without thinking. She blinked. How did she know that? "Are they alone?" Dumbledore continued. "Yes," she was going to say, but stopped. The lighting in the room only gave her a glance at her boys, but a loud thump in the pit of her gut told her the truth. "No," she answered, her tone low and hollow. "No, they're not."
Rosa, still in her Draco guise, regarded Ginny with curiosity. The little girl had completely broken down, and was sobbing soundly into her hands. She had never seen anyone quite so... open. It was greatly disturbing. "Stop your wailing," she ordered, the words blanketed with Draco Malfoy's voice. Ginny sniffled. Sheepishly she glanced over her fingers, bloodshot eyes eyeing her with something that looked a lot like fear. "I didn't realize Draco Malfoy brought out that kind of reaction from you," said Rosa, fashioning a half-smile in Draco's lips. Ginny hiccoughed. She dropped her hands to her lap, and lowered her head in hopes to hide her puffy face. Her wrists were red and bleeding from all of her attempts to break through the ropes, but nothing hurt her more than having to look at Draco. "Change back," she said, then added a soft, "please." Rosa/Draco looked unfazed. "Why does the sight of this boy hurt you so?" she asked, thoroughly intrigued. Ginny gave her a dry look. "He called me Weasel." Rosa/Draco narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're crying because he called you names?" "Well, they were really foul names." "Are you being smart with me?" asked Rosa, perfecting the Draco glare. Ginny suppressed a shudder at its uncanniness. "I'm not ever going to tell you, so you might as well stop your interrogating." She paused. Rosa was staring at her with an excited look in Draco's eyes. "What?" she asked, frowning. "You care for him." It was not a question. Ginny stiffened her back. "I care for a lot of people." "Yes, but you care for him," said Rosa. She giggled — or Draco did. Either way, it sent chills down Ginny's spine. "You love this boy!" "I do not!" Ginny shouted, and began to wriggle her hands free from the rope. "You probably don't even know what love is!" Rosa/Draco grinned darkly. "I've been around for a long time, little girl. I know love when I see it." "Right," said Ginny, concentrating more on the ropes than on Rosa. Rosa rolled Draco's eyes. "Don't bother," she said, "this room's been charmed. Anyone else can come in and out besides you." Ginny growled under her breath. "So then what was the rope for? Added effect?" Rosa shrugged. "Even us bad guys like to do our share of dramatics." Ginny uttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "witch". Rosa was unfazed. "How can you love this boy?" said Rosa thoughtfully. "I've been watching him — you two have barely had a moment alone. Love can't possibly bloom from your trivial meetings." Ginny grinned without mirth. "Then you obviously don't know that much about love as you lead on." Rosa shook Draco's head stubbornly. "It makes no sense. You can't possibly love him." "Accept it already," said Ginny darkly. "I have." There was a long silence. Ginny had given up on her ropes and was currently absorbed in watching an ant crawl across the bed. She simply refused to look back at Rosa, not while she was still in Draco garb. "You're careless with your heart," said Rosa. There was a soft whooshing sound and Rosa was once again back to her smutty self. Ginny ventured a glance at her. With much resignation, she nodded her agreement. There was a foreign look in Rosa's face that looked as if she understood. Ginny highly doubted it. "That will be your end someday," said Rosa softly. Slowly, she got up and sat at the foot of the bed, lowering her head so her eyes were level with Ginny's. And she saw it. There, hidden behind the innocent shimmer of Ginny's brown eyes, was a love — so strong, yet so uncertain. "Why do you love him so much?" Ginny sniffled. She really didn't want to talk about Draco right then. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. She hesitated. "I think," she said, her voice soft and full of regret, "that he reminds me of someone I used to love..."
Ow. Pain, pain, and more pain. That was basically all Draco could think of. And it wasn't like the kind of pain he felt when he fell off his broom during Quidditch, because it bruised his ego more than it did his body. This pain was the kind that made you wish your were dead. It was pain unlike anything he had ever felt before, because contrary to popular belief, his father never exposed him to the Crutiatus Curse. Sure, there were your standard beatings or exposure to deadly bugs every now and then, but Lucius never used Dark Curses against his own son — possibly one of the only traits Draco admired him for. Every inch of his body continued to ache, even after he realized that the Curse had ended. He opened his eyes, never knowing he was even closing them. The blurry image of Blaise Zabini grew into focus as she bent over to observe him. The firm concrete he felt behind his back and head led him to conclude that he had fallen on the ground. For how long he had been on the ground, however, he did not know. Though it felt like an eternity for his body. Blaise's face split into a toothy grin once she realized that Draco was awake. "Rise and shine!" she sang, not knowing that her words pounded in Draco's head. Or maybe she did and that was the whole point. "Urgh," was all Draco could say. He really wanted to say more, preferably all profanity, but it hurt to even breathe. Blaise began to click her tongue. "Poor baby," she said, pretending to look sympathetic while her eyes were full of glee. She held Draco by the sides and propped him up against the wall that was behind him. Even with his winter cloak on, he could still feel her cold hands against his skin. She smiled when he shivered. "Yes, it is a bit drafty in here," she said casually. "Though your friends weren't complaining much." Draco's eyes trailed over to the opposite wall. Harry and Ron were sitting against the wall, much like he was, with their heads sagging to the side slightly. They looked slightly battered and unconscious. The Invisibility Cloak was no where in sight. Blaise shook her pretty little head. "Gryffindors, Draco?" she asked in criticism. "You're much of a traitor than I thought you were." Draco managed a sneer. "You know there's a word for people like you," he croaked. "It starts with a 'b' and it ends with an 'otch'." While the look he got from her was highly entertaining, the long sentence left him out of breath and panting. "You fancy yourself funny, don't you?" growled Blaise. "We'll see how funny you are once I'm done with you." Draco managed to make a rude gesture with his hands, making Blaise's eyes flash. "Take him away," she ordered and walked over to the other side of the room to examine Harry and Ron. Goyle, who had been standing by the door on Draco's right, grunted and lifted Draco up by his collars, as simply as a child would a doll. "You chose the wrong side, Malfoy," Goyle glared, lifting Draco high enough that his feet no longer made contact with the ground. "Now there's something I don't often hear," said Draco, not being able to resist. Aggravating people was like second nature to him. Goyle contorted his face into a sneer so distorted that Draco couldn't help but think, "amateur". "I wouldn't be so smart right now," he warned, "you're already getting on the Master's nerves." Draco mustered up all of his energy to smile proudly. Goyle scowled and tightened his grip around Draco's collars. "Goyle!" shouted Blaise, from her spot beside Ron. "I said 'take him away'!" Goyle certainly looked like he was battling some sort of internal conflict when he lowered Draco and began to drag him out of the room. What a way to travel, Draco thought, as Goyle purposely hit his head against the door frame for the second time. He vaguely heard the sound of doors opening when Goyle suddenly threw him — effortlessly too! — a great distance away. He hit the wall with a sickening crunch and fell to the floor for the second time that day. It wasn't all that bad, considering he was already starting numb thanks to the Cruciatus Curse. He heard a cry from somewhere above him and a lot of feet movement going on around him. His eyes were starting to dilate from the darkness of the room he was put in, and he was hardly aware of the little redhead that was currently struggling to get to his side. "Draco!" came a muffled voice. He felt rough taps against his cheeks. Two large brown eyes soon came into focus and he dreamily blinked at them, not really knowing what was going on. Suddenly, the eyes disappeared, and he was forced to look up at a tall, curvy woman with hair as dark as Harry's. The woman was currently engaged in a conversation with Goyle, who was holding the owner of the brown eyes around the waist. "Aren't they going to preform it already?" came the woman's sultry voice. Goyle shook his large head. "They said the potion's not ready yet," he explained. "It's nearly midnight," growled the woman, sounding very impatient. "How long before the potion's done?" Goyle shrugged. "Blaise said — " "And what about the others?" interrupted the woman. She sounded very grumpy. "What are they planning to do with them?" "Leave 'em to the Dark Lord, I guess," Goyle replied, not without a hint of amusement. The woman nodded, then looked at Draco, who just blinked at her. "Should I tie him up?" "Nah," said Goyle, chuckling. "He won't be able to do anything for a long while." He tossed the girl he held in his hands to the side, effectively aiming her towards the bed beside Draco, and walked out. The woman lingered around for a while to give Draco a measuring sort of look, before leaving herself. Draco allowed himself to let out the groan he had been struggling to keep in once the door was shut. Almost immediately, a squeal came from the bed beside him, and, within the span of a millisecond, something heavy thrust itself towards him. "Oof!" he gasped, feeling whatever wind he had left knocked out of him. "Oh, Draco!" said the something that was currently squeezing the life out of him. He could just imagine his face turning a lovely shade of blue. "Uh..." "I was so worried!" it continued, sobbing its words into his shoulder. "Blaise — what she said!" "Uh," he said again, and panicked when he heard something that sounded an awful lot like a bone snap. "Dammit, Weasley, let go of me!" he shouted, using his lungs to its full extent. Immediately, Ginny let go, and air was once again able to fill up his lungs. "Sorry," said Ginny in a tiny voice. The red tint on her face suggested that she was feeling very stupid. Draco groaned. Slowly, he tried to adjust his sitting position so his spine wasn't so crooked. Doing this left him completely breathless. Dammit, he thought, and wondered how long Blaise had put that blasted curse on him. "Draco," said Ginny again, her eyes wide and frightened. She was currently kneeling beside him. Her hair was tousled and sticking out in odd directions while her skin was dirty with dust. A small red line just above her right eye shined against the candlelight and her wrists were red and bloody. Yet, all in all, she was more breathtaking than any sort of physical exercise would ever be. Well, he thought with a sly grin, maybe not all. "You," Ginny breathed, brows crinkling, "look terrible." Draco blinked. He figured he must have, after being thrown around as much as he was. He fixed on a dark look and quickly looked away, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself. His hair must've looked terrible. "What happened?" Ginny wondered, inching closer towards him. "I fell." Ginny staggered, thrown. She gave him a calculating look. "You... fell." "Gravity is a cruel mistress," said Draco solemnly. Ginny glared. Draco smiled. He was glad to know that under his weak state he was still able to annoy people. "You're impossible," said Ginny, and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Oh no," assured Draco, grinning slyly, "I'm quite possible." Ginny pulled a face. "Is that all you guys ever think about?" Draco chuckled weakly — laughing hurt his chest too much. "Only when a game's not on." "Guys are disgusting," pouted Ginny. She looked highly disappointed. Draco tried to make his position more comfortable — which was a tad bit hard considering he was surrounded by concrete. The bed, while reaking of dust and mold, looked a lot cozier than the floor. Ginny caught the look in his eyes and sighed resignedly. "Do you need help?" she asked, voice dripping of sympathy. He gave her a blank, uncomprehending look. "Help?" "To get on the bed," she said. Draco grinned. "I didn't know you were that kind of girl." Ginny glared. Whatever sympathy she felt for Draco quickly vanished. She stood up quickly, her hands on her hips and looking murderous. "Nevermind. I don't know what I was thinking." She stomped off towards the bed herself, and sank into it, pouting like a child. Draco set his jaw. Gingerly, he raised his left arm and began to examine it, turning it over slightly. In experiment, he began to stretch out his fingers and curl them in. At least his wand hand was still usable. He began to do the same with his right hand and legs, eventually getting enough strength to crawl around. With a large amount of difficulty, he stood up, using the wall as support and stumbled towards the bed where Ginny sat, back against the headboard and arms folded across her chest. "Move over," grunted Draco, and plopped down on the spot beside her. He let out a loud and relieved sigh as he finally felt something other than solid rock hit his head. A loud "hmph!" came from the side where Ginny sat, but Draco quickly learned to ignore it. He was far too busy taking in the comfort from the soft pillows around him. "If you really did fall, it was incredibly stupid in your part," said Ginny suddenly. She was obviously refusing to let it go. Draco tightly shut his eyes. Couldn't she tell he was exhausted? "Yes — I am incredibly stupid." He shifted around so that his back was facing her. Ginny seemed unfazed. "And does everything you say have to drip with sarcasm?" "Would you prefer soft malice?" he asked lightly. "I would prefer sincerity," said Ginny, sounding hurt. Draco opened his eyes and sighed. He shifted around so his back was flat against the mattress and his eyes were staring straight up at the ceiling. "Have you ever heard of the Cruciatus Curse?" The memory of the tiny spider writhing in her lap flashed through Ginny's mind. She held up a hand to her mouth and stared at Draco. "They put the Cruciatus Curse on you?" she gasped, looking near tears. Draco shrugged. Actually, it was more like a twitch in his right shoulder. "It wasn't that bad," he lied. Truthfully, he was surprised he could even talk. He'd heard horrible stories about people who had been put on the Cruciatus Curse, Neville Longbottom's parents being one of them. It was not something he was ever fond of hearing about. Suddenly, he felt something soft and warm touch his cheek. He blinked in surprise upon realizing that it was Ginny's hand. "What are you doing?" he asked, somewhat panicked, as she put her other hand on his chest. "I'm checking your heartbeat," she said softly, concentrating on the soft thumps beneath his chest. They were growing rapid with every minute her hands were on him. "Why?" he asked, though he was not at all complaining to her touch. She was gentler and warmer than Blaise had ever been. "I'd learned it from Hermione," she answered. "You're supposed to check a victims heartbeat after they've been hit with that curse. See, the Cruciatus Curse doesn't just do physical damage, but internal damage as well. If it's been put on long enough, it stops the heart from giving out the right amount of blood." She paused and look down at Draco in surprise. His hand was firmly placed over her own. "You're warm," he said, smiling softly and shaking under her hand. She suddenly realized the slight shade of purple his lips had taken on. "There are some blankets over there," Ginny said rather lamely, "if you're cold." She was vaguely aware that this had been the closest she'd ever been to a man — let alone Draco. Draco shook his head slightly, and slowly closed his eyes. "I like your heat." He still held her hand as he slowly drifted off into sleep. Ginny bit her lip. He was delirious, that's it. The Cruciatus Curse was taking it's toll and he was hysterical. He couldn't have meant anything from his previous words. Right? Ginny shook her head, feeling thoroughly ashamed for some odd reason. She looked around them. There were sheets and blankets at the foot of the bed, though she'd have to remove her hand from Draco if she were to get them. And as much as she hated to admit it, she liked having his hand over hers. But he was beginning to shiver. Gingerly, she replaced the hand Draco held with her other, and stretched across the bed to reach for a blanket. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, Ginny couldn't help but smile as she spread the blanket over him. Despite his battered state, he looked almost peaceful as he slept. With his hair spread around his head, looking almost like a silver halo, he strongly reminded her of those angels her mother told her about. "What have I gotten myself into?" she said softly, watching him sleep, and only heard the soft exhale of his breath as a reply. She shook her head softly, and nestled against the headboard, keeping a good distance away from him while her hand was still in his own. She sighed. She noticed the way his eyes weren't completely closed, and how every now and then they'd flicker. He must be dreaming, she thought, and smiled. She wondered what a person like Draco Malfoy dreamt about.
Harry awoke, feeling like he had been sleep for years. Gravity seemed to have a special liking to him, as he could barely lift his own eyelids. He tried to move his head, which only sent a sharp pain to shoot through it. He heard a groan from somewhere beside him. "Fuck," someone uttered. Harry knew that mouth anywhere. "Ron?" Ron made a slight gasping sound and then a low, "Harry?" Harry immediately forced open his eyes. They were in a poor lit room, but he was close enough to Ron to see him. He was sitting beside him, legs out and arms limp. There was a long cut near his ear, and dirt covered most of his clothes and face. He looked terrible. Harry figured he looked similar, if not worse. "Where are we?" groaned Ron, as he tried to straighten his back. Harry looked around. They were in an old bedroom, he could tell, from all the old furniture that surrounded them. There was a mirror on the wall across them. It was tall and circular, with a silver lining and the words 'eest onna csey etahw woh si' engraved along the edges. His Invisibility Cloak was no where in sight. "I'm guessing somewhere inside the Riddle House," he answered, somewhat gloomily. "How do you feel?" "Like my head just exploded," said Ron, and rubbed his tired eyes. "I think they drugged us or something." "Just be happy that's all they did," said Harry, frowning. He had been trying to get his fingers to move, but they were being rather stubborn. Ron groaned into his hands. "Damned Malfoy. This is all his fault." Harry smiled grimly. "Do you really think so?" "Yes!" shouted Ron. "If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't even be here — " "With a shot at rescuing your sister," interjected Harry. Ron sent him a dark look. "Are you sticking up for him?" Harry returned the look. "No, but I'm not blaming him either. I'm just saying — no one could've seen that coming. I mean, who would know that Blaise could see us?" "Well, who would you blame?" asked Ron. Harry blinked, then gave him a small smile. "The same person I always blame," he said solemnly. Ron stared. Harry was gazing up at the ceiling with an unusually calm look, his green eyes looking darker than they'd ever been, having grown dim with every passing nightmare he had to live and relive. Only then did Ron realize just how fucked up fate could be. "This had nothing to do with you," said Ron, his voice low and hoarse. Harry chuckled without much mirth. "Yeah," he said, still glancing at the ceiling. He said nothing else. Ron looked away. He hated it when Harry put the weight of the world on his shoulders, thinking every single thing was his fault. Harry was the last person who deserved to bare that kind of burden. It wasn't fair. None of it was. There was a long pause. Then, "Well, well," said a silky voice from between the doorway. The owner of the voice moved towards them, causing the flowing black gown she wore to billow behind her, while two large men stood on either side, making her look smaller than she really was. She bent down so her eyes were level to Harry's, a sharp smirk tugging at her blood-red lips and illuminating her pug-like face. "It seems as if you've finally waken up."
The fire was gone. Comfort, safety, and everything else he felt with the fire had disappeared. He felt oddly empty. Figures in black cloaks formed a circle around him, all keeping impossibly still as if there were no life underneath the hoods. A winter chill hung in the air, penetrating even the leather he wore. The figure before him had its hand outstretched expectantly. It held a dagger in its free hand, moving it in the little light that the room offered. Without thinking, Draco held out his hand. The figure cut him, and he watched as his blood flowed unto his skin, then trickle down to the floor. But he didn't care anymore. The fire was gone. Draco kept his eyes closed, even after he had awoken. He'd never had that dream before. Somehow he felt that having it now in that house meant nothing good. He finally opened his eyes, giving in to the instinctive urge. He looked around him, hoping to find himself in some other place. But life once again proves it's unfairness as his eyes took in a dim bedroom of the Riddle House. Something stirred beside him. Warily, he glanced over his shoulder and found Ginny Weasley sleeping soundlessly by his side, an arm draped over his chest with her hand clutched into his. He blinked. Like a tidal wave, it all came back to him. Goyle, Blaise, the Crutiatus Curse, Ginny... His eyes traveled back to the girl beside him. Her head was conveniently nestled between his right shoulder and chest, and her breath ruffled the collars of his shirt. She was warm. And very close. Get a grip, he told himself. She's a child — a Weasley child. You can't be lusting after a Weasley. He shut his eyes, and began counting backwards from 100. Ginny had yet to wake up. He was in the 30s when he decided that counting wouldn't take his mind off her, especially after she began to make smacking noises with her lips. Without knowing what so, he gripped her hand tightly, shutting his eyes even tighter. Ginny moaned softly (Draco nearly screamed at this point), and her eyes fluttered open. Groggily, she looked around the room. When her eyes landed on Draco, he smiled weakly. She blinked as her face began to explore the many shades of red. None of them moved — not that they wanted to. But Draco thought he had better say something before she discovered a new color. "Um..." "Er..." Ginny bit her lip. Draco desperately wished for a cold shower. "I must have fallen asleep," said Ginny, looking sheepish. "It seems that way," smiled Draco. Simultaneously, they sat up, Draco feeling cold once Ginny had let go on his hand. He began to stretch his back and neck, feeling as stiff as a board. "I wish there was a clock in here," said Ginny sadly. "Then I'd know how long I'd been in this blasted room." "Somehow," said Draco, "I doubt that would help lighten the mood." Ginny sighed heavily. She wrapped her arms around herself, and sniffed. "I want to go home." She began to sob quietly, and Draco suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Awkwardly, he pat her back, praying she'd stop. Crying girls always tore at him for some reason. "There there," he said lamely. "Um, I'm sure you'll be there in no time." Ginny choked on her laugh. "Right," she said, and wiped her tears with her sleeves. "You know you're terrible at this cheering up stuff." She smiled at him. "But thanks for trying." Draco grinned without mirth. "Well, what would you expect from someone like me?" Ginny gave him a stubborn look. "Why do you keep putting yourself down?" she asked, turning towards him. "I'm not," said Draco seriously. "I don't need to. I'm already 'down'. Hell, I'm the king of down." Ginny's expression softened. "I don't think you are." "And you're some sort of expert on me," said Draco, arching a brow. Ginny shook her head, sending her auburn tresses into the air. "I don't need to be," she said softly. "I know bad, Draco, and you're not it." Something foreign flashed through Draco's eyes as he stared back into her's. "Since when do you call me Draco?" he asked, in the same soft voice she used on him. Ginny grinned, and said, with the same air he used when he first said it that one night in the kitchens, "I'd like to think that one day, a Weasley and a Malfoy can be civil toward one another." Draco actually laughed. The action caused a sharp pain to shoot through his chest. Before he could stop himself, he clutched his chest and winced. Ginny's light attitude turned into concern. She raised a hand, as if to comfort him but she immediately stopped herself. It was best if she made the least amount of physical contact with him as possible. Instead, she asked if he was okay. He nodded his reply, though not without another wince. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling like she would cry again. "For what?" Draco asked, looking amused. "For this," replied Ginny, gesturing around her. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so careless, I wouldn't have been kidnapped, and you wouldn't be here, and have had to suffer, and — " Draco shook his head. "None of this is your fault," he said with conviction. "No," said Ginny in a low voice, "it is. It always is." Draco was suddenly brought back to his second year, back when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. While the staff did their best to hide the truth, Draco had always known that it was Ginny who opened it. But he never thought that she actually blamed herself for it. If anyone was to blame, it was his damned Father for giving her that diary. "You're being too hard on yourself," said Draco. "This has nothing to do with you." Whether or not that was a lie, he did not know. But something told him it was the right thing to say. Ginny sniffed. "You don't know that," she said sadly. "I do," he said sharply, then in a softer voice he added, "if anything, it's me." Ginny blinked her growing tears at him, confused. "You?" Draco nodded, and leaned back against the headboard to stare up at the ceiling. "When you were kidnapped, Blaise sent me a letter. She told me to come here for you." Ginny couldn't comprehend it. "Why?" Apparently, Draco couldn't either. "Beats me. All I know is that she wanted me and me alone to come here, using you as bait — that bitch," he added with harsh malice. "So really, it's my fault you're even here." Ginny's brows blended together as she absorbed this new information. "You came here," she said slowly, trying to understand, "just because of me?" An odd expression blanketed Draco's face — like he was trying to hide whatever it was he was feeling. The overall effect just made him look like he was constipated. Ginny tried her hardest not to laugh and ruin such a serious moment. "I didn't come alone," Draco finally answered. Ginny frowned slightly, as he didn't really answer her question. "Potter and Weasley are in another room." The mention of her brother and friend quickly diminished whatever disappointment she felt. She suddenly felt hopeful. "Ron and Harry's here? Where are they? What happened?" Draco nodded. "Knocked out." Boy, was he blunt. "So why are you the one here with me?" Draco thought about this. In truth, he really didn't know. But he wasn't about to let Ginny know that. With heavy sincerity he answered, "I'm prettier." Ginny sputtered her laughter. "What does that have to do with anything?" "Everything," said Draco, looking hurt. "It's a universal rule: the pretty ones get the girls." Ginny smirked. Draco found himself loving the way a tiny dimple appeared just over the corner of her mouth when she did so. "I thought it was the heros who got the girls," she said, and Draco scoffed. "If that were true," said Draco derisively, "then Potter'd be the one in here." Ginny chose to ignore the tinge of bitterness in his voice. "It's not like you have any competition," she said lightly. "Ron's my brother, and Harry's... Well, Harry's Harry." Draco looked unfazed. "So?" "So that means you aren't necessarily the prettiest or the best choice if you consider the other pickings." Draco thought about that. He scrunched up his brows in thought, causing the corners of Ginny's lips to quirk up. She couldn't help but admit how cute he looked when he was thinking. She nearly giggled at the way he'd chew on his bottom lip. Suddenly his eyes lit up. With a snap of his fingers, he said, triumphantly, "You said necessarily. There's doubt. You think I'm pretty." That made her giggle. She didn't admit it, but she didn't deny it either. Victory was his. "Admit it," he teased, "I'm the prettiest." "Yes," she smiled, "you're the prettiest boy in this room." Draco put on a satisfied grin. At least it was something. The aftereffects of the Crutiatus Curse was slowly, but surely, going away, and he was able to move around a lot quicker. In experiment, he sat up and sat cross-legged. Ginny made a sort of choking noise, and he looked up to see that she was suppressing a smile. "What?" he asked her, brow arched. "Nothing," she said, smiling furtively. Draco continued to eye her suspiciously when she burst into giggles. Now he was just annoyed. "What?" Ginny placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself. It didn't work. "It's just," she tittered, "you — sitting — like that!" Draco looked down at himself and frowned. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing!" she said, though she was still giggling. "I just never imagined Draco Malfoy to sit in such a...," she searched for the appropriate word, "common manner." Draco's frown grew. "I'm not that much of a twit, am I?" "You were," said Ginny smugly, after having finally finished her giggle fit. "People change," he said indignantly. "You did," Ginny smiled. Draco gave her a satisfied nod. Her warm smile grew sly. "I guess miracles do happen." "Ha, ha." Ginny grinned. "Although I should've known something was fishy since that one night in the kitchens. I mean, Draco Malfoy in flannel pajamas?" "Cotton-polyester," Draco muttered darkly. "And pink bunny slippers," sneered Ginny. Draco glared. She was getting too cocky. "You know you talk an awful lot," said Draco, looking stern. Ginny blushed, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I know," she said, chuckling a bit. "My brothers are always complaining about what a big mouth I have." Draco's left eye twitched. Oh come on, his mind reasoned with him, she's practically asking for it! His eyes twinkled mischievously. "I think your mouth is fine." Then he leaned forward. Ginny blinked at him. She was leaning back, with wide eyes and an open mouth. His lips were so close to her's that one more nudge and he would've been kissing her. But he saw her eyes. Large and brown, like the shade of chocolate. So full of youth and innocence. Something inside Draco churned. She still had her innocence. Draco had been so void of his for so long, he wondered if he ever had innocence to begin with. But she still had her's. She was still a child. Fragile like a flower that could wilt at the touch of something as grave as himself, whose hands had been stained with the blood of his own father. He couldn't bare to stain her hands as well. Draco sighed. He felt so very tired. Slowly, he lowered his head, causing his hair to fall over his eyes like a waterfall of silver. Ginny watched him curiously. Within the span of 20 seconds she had seen Draco's face twist into different emotions, each new expression contradicting the latter. It was, quite possibly, the most open she had ever seen him be. "Draco?" came her small and uncertain voice. When he didn't reply, her hand impulsively landed on his shoulder, and she called him with uncertainty. "Draco?" she tried again, wondering why he was acting so strangely. Then — without so much as a signal or hint — Draco crept closer, filled the tiny space between them, and held her, letting the silence and warmth be his only answer.
Credits, thank you's, and excuses...
*makes a face* Does anyone else notice how much dialogue I use? @_#; Oy, I'm going to have to work on that... Anyhoo, the little diddy Draco said to Blaise somewhere in the beginning ("b-otch") was a quote from a trailer of an anime show I saw called 'GTO' or... something like that. Um, the "gravity" comment Draco said to Ginny is from the outstanding HP fic called "The Draco Trilogy"; if you haven't read those yet, I highly recommend that you do! 'Tis bloody brilliant. Oh, and five chocolate frogs to the person who can guess what the engravement on the Mirror says. =P And before anyone goes flaming me in the reviews, I realize that Ginny connecting Draco with "someone she used to love" (i.e. TOM), is a bit overdone. It'll all be resolved in the next chapter, so keep your shirt on. (Unless you happen to be Tom Felton, so in that case, disregard what I just said and take pictures. =^^=) Also, can't forget to gives thanks to my reviewers! I'd get all corny here and say how much you guys brighten my day with your words of encouragement, but I've got chapters to finish writing! And FYI, I've got summer school and a vacation coming up so I want to apologize before hand if Ch. 16 takes longer than usual, kidok? ^^; Joya (you can expect the bugs and the leather pants to return soon! ;D), Eiko (awe, 'Ko, it's okay; I know how much you LOVE Draco *grins*), Robyn Maddison (I'm so thrilled by your words, honestly I am! I hope the fic turns out worthy of your praise), Beth (yes, I haven't given up, and never will, unless I were to suddely be hit in the head by a large boulder and lost all sense of writing; as it's not likely, then you'll know this fic will end sooner or later), ThePixieDustPoet ('course I'd mention you! I can never have enough love for my reviewers, and I'll see what I can do about those sexy descriptions. ;D), and dracos-gurl (you're much too kind! I can't tell you what an ego-boost that was! *hugs*) Much Love,
Jonah (bad-faith.net) Ahah! I see your mouse hovering over that review button! What are you waiting for? Click, I say! Click!