Note: Ah, we finally earn the PG-13 rating! Some coarse language (more than usual, anyway) and subtle (very subtle, actually) sexual connotations up ahead. You have been warned! Oh, and I got over of my weird dialogue habit! The format looks much better now, doesn't it? More descriptive, and whatnot. *beams proudly for a moment* Okay, enough with that. On with Chapter 16...
* * *
Chapter Sixteen: The Past, The Plan, and The Premonition
There was a long and pregnant pause. The world Hermione saw through her newly gifted eyes swirled and distorted, effectively giving her one hell of a headache. She groaned and instinctively clutched her head. "Control it," she heard Dumbledore say from somewhere far away. "Focus on the boys and Ginny. Find them." "I can't," Hermione gasped, as she felt a sharp pain shoot through her right eye. "They're not together! The rooms won't stay still it — it hurts too much..." Then suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. The feeling itself seemed to soothe her mind, but her eyes were still throbbing like mad. "Try this then," he told her calmly, making sure to say each word carefully so she'd understand. "Focus on Voldemort — concentrate on his soul." Hermione sighed, and slowly brought her hands down. She screwed her eyes tightly, focusing every ounce of her energy and might into locating Voldemort — why though, she had no clue. But there was no use arguing with the Headmaster. Slowly, the chaos of colors and images she saw began to take shape and focus. And suddenly, she was in a bedroom again. Though Harry and Ron were no where in sight. Instead, she saw a flash of a silver head, huddling close against a head of scarlet. It was as if she was watching a movie in fast forward, as she was suddenly brought down to get a very clear close-up of a familiar pale and pointy face... She gasped suddenly, as a hand flew up to cover her gaping mouth. She didn't have to say anything, for Dumbledore already knew. As surprised as he was, he could not help but smile. And so he was wrong...
* * *
"Pansy?" Harry's eyes couldn't get any bigger. At the very mention of her name, he was automatically brought back to his time spent in the dingy Potions classroom, having to spend hours listening to little Pansy's annoying tittering. But the woman who stood proudly before him was not the same Pansy Parkinson he knew. No, she was no longer little, and while there were still traces of her pug-like face visible beneath the extensive amount of make-up she wore, her body by all means compensated for it. Now Harry was never a man to go for bodily appearances, not since the Cho Chang fiasco, but as Pansy stood before him, his eyes couldn't help but trace her long white legs which were clearly visible through the slit in her black gown. The gown itself was a bit of a scandal, with it's low-cut, off-the-shoulder top, impossibly tight body that seemed to give her bosom an extra heave, and flowing rivers of black velvet that only accented the pure white of her ivory legs. He was quite certain Pansy had never looked like that when they were still in school. Harry was clearly not the only one who noticed Pansy's drastic change, as he heard Ron give out a low whistle from beside him. Pansy's face contorted into a smug grin upon seeing the goggling looks Harry and Ron were giving her. She strutted around proudly, being extra careful to sway her lips and puff out her chest as she did so. Her grin grew when she heard the choking noises Ron was making. She turned to Harry and bent down before him so her hands were on her knees, and her chest only a few inches away from Harry's nose. She mentally noted the hurried glance down her dress before Harry forced his eyes to burrow into hers. "The famous Harry Potter," she said in greeting. She shot the man beside him a contemptuous look. "Ron," she said, her voice dripping with disgust. Ron, having forgotten his earlier attraction, growled his reply. She grinned again and, having felt her job was done, turned back to Harry. "Well well," she said, her dark eyes giving her glee away. She straightened up and began to pace in front of them. "I can't say I was expecting you two to be here, but," she stopped and strode towards Harry, "now that you are, I must say how thrilled I am." "Afraid I can't say I feel the same," Harry said impassively. Pansy put on a dark grin. "You're getting rather cocky," she said, sounding slightly impressed. "Have you finally gotten yourself a backbone?" Harry didn't even blink. He'd gotten too much field practice with Malfoy to be moved by Pansy's little taunts. "Unlike you," he said, his tone even, "I'm using what's naturally mine." Pansy's anger flared. She puffed her chest out indignantly, and regarded Harry for a moment before finally breaking out into another grin. She bent down before him, conveniently positioning herself so that her bosom was in Harry's direct field of vision. She used a long and delicate finger to lift Harry's chin. Harry lowered his dark brows menacingly, though his eyes remained void of any emotion. Pansy only grinned. "I can't tell you how long I've waited for this," she said in a husky breath, and before anyone could do or say anything, she covered Harry's mouth with hers and successfully had the Boy Who Lived in a passionate liplock. And it was a horrid kiss too. Pansy literally groped Harry's mouth, using her tongue as a sort of prodding stick to examine every one of his teeth, then shoot it down his throat, as if the thought of her mouth on his was bad enough. She used her hands to pin either one of his arms against the wall, though she needn't have to as he could barely move. Try as he might to muffle out his objections to the invasion of his personal space, Pansy just couldn't take the hint. She continued to feel around his mouth, and when that area got too tedious, she settled for an area due more south. Way south. "Hey!" he intended to shout, though it ended up sounding more like a "Hmrehy!" He mustered up as much strength as he could to try and kick Pansy off of him (she had settled herself on his lap after the first few minutes of intense kissing), but all he had managed to do was thrash his legs about weakly. Pansy, having appeared to have had her fill, finally ended the liplock, and breathed out a triumphant sort of sigh. The two men who had accompanied Pansy, whom Harry now realized was Crabbe and Goyle, each made faces of sheer disgust, though neither one of their faces compared to the one Ron had, who looked like he would be sick all over Pansy's gown very soon. Pansy chuckled at their gaping looks, then shook her head. "Pardon me for my rudeness," she said silkily, giving Harry a meaningful look, "but you must understand what a school girl dream of mine that had been. Kissing the Boy Who Lived — wait 'til I tell Blaise..." She smiled sweetly, and pushed herself off of Harry's lap to come face to face with Crabbe and Goyle. (Actually, considering that both men towered over her, even with her heels on, it was more like 'face to chest'.) "Speaking of whom," she said to the men, "go run off and tell her that she can begin." Harry heard her chuckle dryly. "The potion should be taking it's full effect now, and there's no reason that I should be the only one to have a little fun..." Both Crabbe and Goyle gave her dubious looks, sending Harry meaningful looks before turning back to her. Harry heard Pansy's exasperated scoff and was quite sure she was rolling her eyes just then as she said, "I'm not going to do that again! Honestly! Just go on and tell Blaise, okay?" The last of her words came out in strained irritation. Still looking doubtful, Crabbe and Goyle slowly made their way out of the room. Once they were gone, Pansy's frustration turned to joy. She turned back to her two guests and happily jumped unto the nearby loveseat. She just smiled at them. "What do you want with us?" Harry heard Ron ask, and Pansy cackled. "Absolutely nothing," she said with utmost sincerity. Then, in a hushed, more secretive voice, she added, "It's not you we want."
* * *
He was hugging her. Ginny's eyes, if possible, widened even more. She thought for sure he would be kissing her. She'd heard her share of rumors when she was in school. Draco "Trigger Lips" Malfoy. If the rumors were true, they'd already be in a compromising position, with their bodies radiating the kind of passionate heat she'd only read about in those Muggle romance novels. But no. Draco was hugging her. Actually and genuinely hugging her. He didn't even try to unhook her bra strap, which was a mere two inches from where his hands lay. He wasn't pulling a move on her or anything. He was just hugging her. And it wasn't even one of those intense hugs, where he would hold on to her like their very lives depended on their bodies together. No... He just held her. Like a mother would her baby — like he was protecting her. Confused and slightly disappointed, she wrapped her arms around Draco and hugged him back. They sat there on the bed of a candle-lit room, holding each other as gently as they could, with their bodies radiating a different kind of heat; a sort of comforting warmth that made her feel safe, that nothing bad could ever happen as long as he held her. She had felt this warmth before, in the cold hands of Tom Riddle. But the security he gave her was illusionary. He'd spun her lies and promised her dreams he never planned on fulfilling. Draco was the honest truth, as brutal as the truth can be. Tom had been cold and vicious, years of evil ahead of his age. Charm and wisdom were his weapons. Vulnerability was nonexistent. Draco, on the other hand, had to grow up in the worst of ways. Beneath his cold and blank exterior screamed a child needing to be loved. Tom lied and cheated for power. Draco lied and cheated for recognition and hope. Tom was poised and determined. Draco was just lost and confused. No, Ginny thought as she pulled Draco closer. He was nothing like Tom. Because, unlike the handsome, raven-haired bastard she now oh-so-affectionately called 'the handsome, raven-haired bastard', her feelings for Draco were stronger, if not foggier and more complex. Then came the tears. She was no stranger to tears, and normaly she'd use all of her energy to resist. But now she welcomed them with open arms. Tears cleansed the soul, she'd heard, though she doubted any whirlpool of tears would cleanse a soul such as her's. No, she'd gone too far, done too many evils. And yet... Her eyes strayed towards the man who was soundlessly holding her. Compared to Draco, her soul must've looked spotless. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. She shouldn't be thinking of him that way. Sure, Draco's done his share of evils, but he's changed. ... Hasn't he? Her eyes unwillingly opened and she found herself glancing at Draco again. The tears had stopped flowing moments ago, so she no longer had to blink to be able to focus her line of vision. But of course, she could only see the top of his head, as he was nestling his forehead on the crook of her neck. She suddenly felt the hot release of his breath on her chest, and she wondered just how long he had been doing that without her knowing so. She would certainly have remembered the little chill her spine would get whenever he did so. She shook her head again, making sure she didn't knock Draco's head when she did so. Stop thinking that way, she told herself forcefully. Great Godric, here she was, in possibly one of the most terrifying situations of her life, and all she could think about was how hot the room was suddenly getting? She sighed. She really needed to get her priorities straight. But who could blame her, really? She was seventeen afterall... She shook her head again, this time out of pure shame. Biting the bottom of her lip, she gingerly rotated her neck as she felt the not-so-welcome cramp advancing. That's when she realized that Draco was no longer hugging her. Or holding her for that matter. Sure, he still had his arms wrapped around her, but he was more like leaning on her. Then, as if one cue, came the muffled noises of Draco's snores — though they were too soft and elegant to be called 'snores'. She pursed her lips in irritation and wondered how long he had been sleeping. She didn't bother to take too much time to think on it for the weight of the older, much larger boy was quickly getting to her, and she greatly feared the kind of cramps her neck would encounter if she let the man drape his arms over her any longer. With her left hand, she gently pushed him off of her, effectively catching him with her other arm. She squirmed around underneath him, so that his head was laying peacefully atop her lap. She gingerly crossed her legs beside her, and leaned on her left arm while she absentmindedly twirled around a few strands of Draco's hair with her other hand. She noticed almost immediately the sudden change in his appearance. His pallor had definitely increased since she last laid eyes on him — and she highly doubted it had been that long — so much so that he looked nearly translucent. There were dark circles around his eyes — nothing too worrying, as he'd had those circles for a long while now, but their depth and color seemed to heighten. He was sweating as well, which was odd considering the vibe she got from Draco was no longer warmth, but sheer coldness. Ginny's worry seemed to sky rocket as she took a closer look at him. He looked so skinny — so unhealthy. He certainly didn't look like this a few moments ago. What could've happened in such a short time to make his appearance look not only battered, but near death as well? Frowning, she stopped playing with his hair to feel his forehead. Then she felt it — traveling through his veins like a serpent, working and weaving its way in and out of his heart. The freezing aura it sent off was so strong, that if Ginny hadn't known better, she would've thought it was slithering inside herself. The horrible truth had already hit her, but she simply refused to believe it. Though it was all in vain. She'd been training under Snape long enough to know... Pallor, low temperature, perspiration — all common side-effects of a powerful poison. Her bottom lip quivered as she sent the man snoozing on her lap a pleading look. "Oh, Merlin, no," she gasped, struggling to fight the tears that she no longer welcomed. "No... You can't," she whispered, her voice wavering as she struggled to push past her sobs. But there was no use denying it. Draco was dying. She knew this, deep down, but she refused to allow herself to believe it, because if he was dying, she would never be able to tell him how she felt. Because it was at that moment, of all times, that she truly realized — as illogical as it sounded. She didn't even feel the regret she initially thought she would when she finally spoke the words. "I... love you..." Suddenly there was a loud choking noise. Ginny's eyes snapped open at the foreign sound, and she stared wide-eyed at the man laying on her lap, only to be met with even wider gray eyes. Ginny's mind seemed to explode with panic. How long had he been awake?! From the astonished look he was giving her, she figured long enough to hear her effectively shoving her large foot into her even larger mouth. Her breathing quickened as Draco's wide eyes continued to stare up at her, searching her face for sincerity. She had to do something — anything! So she swore. With a passion, too. She practically flung out every swear word she knew, and some she didn't. If it had been another, less serious time, she would've been impressed with her vivid imagery. When she ended her little tirade, Draco just blinked. Probably too stunned to even comprehend the things she had just said. Slowly, his mouth formed an 'O' shape and his brows blended together — all of which Ginny had no doubt were the beginnings of a question. "What?" he finally got out. Ginny inwardly groaned. She hated being right. She took a deep breath, and prompt ignored his question. "You're alive," she said, feigning innocence. Draco didn't seem to be very impressed by this, as he sent her an impatient, withering look. "Why wouldn't I be alive?" he asked pompously, forcing Ginny to roll her eyes. He sounded too much like Percy for his own good. "Because you've been drugged, you idiot," she said hotly, muttering the last part under her breath. Unfortunately for her, Draco still heard it. He scowled — though not as sternly as he usually did, something Ginny found a bit odd — and huffed angrilly. "I have not been drugged," he said with conviction, though he could not suppress the shiver that passed through his body as he did so. Ginny saw right through it, and, in case Draco did not catch her dubious look, rolled her eyes for better effect. Then something inside Draco snapped — though not literally. He suddenly turned to Ginny, and said, in the accusing manner of a five-year old, "Hey! You dodged my question!" Ginny sent him an innocent smile. "What question?" she asked. Draco actually growled, giving Ginny a not-so pleasant view of his upper canines. Her smile faltered just a tad, but nevertheless, she stood her ground. "You said something just as I woke up," he enunciated every syllable, so Ginny wouldn't have any excuse like she didn't understand. Ginny sighed. She just decided to just flow with it — what else could she do? "I love you," she said, plastering a sweet smile across her face. Her straight-forwardness obviously came as a shock to Draco, as his brows shot up a few notches. She watched his eyelids flutter open drop shut with such speed that she wondered if he was doing it intentionally or not. Draco seemed to have a difficulty processing this new information, so Ginny decided to stay quiet and wait. It would apparently be a long wait, as Draco's struggling didn't seem to falter. "Why?" he practically shouted, so suddenly that Ginny nearly jumped in surprise. "Why what?" she asked him as she inwardly cooed her heartbeat to slow down. Draco seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "Why do you — you know..." Ginny tilted her head to the side, clearly not comprehending. Draco sighed in exasperation. "You know!" he said, wishing he could gesture with his hands (but then again, what sort of gesture could he do?). Ginny still hadn't gotten it, so Draco rolled his eyes. "The 'L' word," he said, in barely a whisper. Ginny frowned. He acted like even mentioning the word was something forbidden. Then she found herself shrugging. Who knows? she thought idly, perhaps for a Malfoy, it is. She shook her head at his childish behavior anyway, and said, in a loud and clear voice, "You mean love?" Draco glared at her, looking scandalous. Ginny rolled her eyes and frowned down at him. "Goodness, Draco!" she said, putting her hands on her hips — which was really a lot more difficult to do, as Draco was still laying on her lap. But she did it anyways, for added effect of her frustration with him. "You act like it's something bad!" Draco's eyes immediately darkened, and his expression grew grave. "It can be," he said, in such a serious voice that he surprised Ginny. "It's not something you take lightly. Love's a strong word, Ginny. It's heavy with strings of promise and obligation. When you love somebody, you let your guard down and openly welcome that person into your heart. That's how pain arises." Ginny gaped at him. She had never heard anyone — let alone Draco Malfoy — talk about love with such... hatred and regret. She found herself fighting the urge to hug the man, for she felt he was in serious need of one. His childhood must've been really fucked up. "You're right," she told him firmly, intentionally staring deep into his dark, gray eyes. Draco looked up at her with a slight hint of surprise. "Love does bring pain. But without the pain, Draco, you'd never know what true happiness is..." Draco gave her a long, calculating look. Then he turned away, half-closing his eyelids as he said, in a low and hollow voice, "I still don't." Ginny frowned, but not out of frustration or anger, but pure sadness and empathy for Draco. "Then let me show you," she said softly, looking down at him with pleading eyes. Draco looked up at her, his eyes slightly widened, and looked as if he didn't know what to say. After a few tense moments, he opened his mouth to say something, then the door of the room swung open. Draco shut his mouth almost immediately, and followed Ginny's gaze towards the doorway. Rosa stood there, completely oblivious that she had just ruined such an important moment. Ginny noticed right away the change in Rosa's attire. She wore velvet robes of burgundy and a matching cloak which was wrapped around her shoulders and fastened just above her chest with a silver emblem. The emblem itself was fascinating, with it's lush quality and design of a very realistic-looking serpent, wrapping around a crystal 'M', but the thing that fascinated Ginny most was that Rosa actually looked decent. She displayed no cleavage what-so-ever, not even a little bit of leg. Her whole body was covered, save for her collar area and neck. But perhaps the most surprising to Ginny was the look Draco was giving the intruder. A mix of recognition and utter confusion, almost as if he knew her. Though the little gasping noises he was making gave Ginny the impression that he had trouble believing himself. Rosa's expression, on the other hand, looked downright pretentious. "Mademoiselle Gwyn?" Draco choked out, after finally getting up off of Ginny's lap to look at the woman square in the eye. Rosa grinned, tilting her head from side-to-side with such vigor that the river of raven-black hair she possessed swayed behind her. "Oui, Monsieur Malfoy," she replied, in flawless French. Draco visably paled. Ginny just frowned. Since when was Rosa French? Or "Mademoiselle Gwyn" for that matter? And was it just her, or was Rosa acting a tad bit more mature? Draco made even more noises, which sounded like they were originating from somewhere behind his throat. He was obviously struggling with Rosa's sudden appearance. Ginny's frown only grew as she looked from Draco, who finally seemed to have stopped the choking noises, and settled for flat-out gawking instead, to Rosa, who looked as calm and cool as ever. "Draco?" Ginny asked tentatively, as he began to look as if he had just seen a ghost. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, eventually snapping him out of his daze. He blinked at her a few times, before turning back to Rosa. "I don't understand...," Draco said slowly, shaking his head. "You died." Ginny's brows jumped up in surprise as Rosa threw her head back in laughter. The very vibe of it sent chills running down Ginny's spine. "It was rather brilliant, wasn't it?" Rosa said between chuckles, not one hint of a French accent in her tone. She was grinning like mad. "It was your father's idea, really. Count it as a life's lesson. And you, of all people, needed to be taught dearly." Ginny looked at Draco to see his reaction to this. Surprisingly, he said nothing. Save for a few spots of pink donning his cheeks, he looked unruffled. "Draco?" Ginny asked again, tugging on his shirt sleeve and moving closer. Draco shook his head roughly, looking every bit of confused. "Mademoiselle Gwyn was my au paire," Draco said, crinkling his brows thoughtfully. Ginny was rather rusty on her French customs, but she knew enough to know what an au paire was. That's what Rosa meant when she said she knew more about Draco than Ginny did, she thought listlessly. Draco shook his head once more. "My father killed you," he said to Rosa, who only continued to grin. Ginny looked at Draco. The look in his face was of nothing but bewilderment, though there was something in his eyes... Pain? But before Ginny could voice her assumptions, Rosa had begun to speak again. "That," she said carefully, "is where you are wrong. Your father never killed me, Draco. I was barely even an au paire." Her grin grew triumphant and proud. "It was all a scam — all of it." Draco seemed to be dreading the answer of his next question. "Why?" "You needed to be taught what pain felt like," she said simply, her grin no longer around. Instead, she looked void of any emotion. "The heart is the weakest part of the human, Draco. You had to be taught to rise above it's desires. You needed to be stronger." Draco didn't answer. He displayed nothing to suggest it, but Ginny could just tell that Rosa's last statement hurt him, whether he knew it or not. So Rosa had been Draco's au paire, he'd gotten close to her, then somewhere down the line, his father had her "killed". Just to show Draco that caring for someone is weak. If Lucius Malfoy were still alive, Ginny would've killed him herself. That rotten bastard. "You should've seen the way you'd look at me, with those wide and admiring gray eyes of yours," Rosa continued, looking vindictive. "You trusted me so much — you'd tell me everything. Your secrets. Your fears... Your dreams." She scoffed, giving Draco one of the dirtiest looks Ginny had ever seen. "And what idiotic dreams you had." Draco visibly stiffened as Rosa stepped closer, neither one of them taking their eyes off the other. "Poor child," Rosa said acidly. "You'll never be Minister of Magic, or Seeker of the Chudley Cannons. You'll never grow up with the respect your father had. And no one will ever truly love you." Ginny blanched. No wonder he didn't believe her, she thought sadly. No wonder... "How did you do it?" he asked her finally. Ginny saw that he was clenching and unclenching his fists on either side of him. She held one his hands in what she hoped he would take as a comforting gesture. He looked back at her in surprise, but Ginny was looking at Rosa expectantly. "Faking a death is not very hard," Rosa answered. "Your father had it planned all along. He's a master of Dark Arts, so pulling it off was nothing short of a magic trick." Draco shook his head again. "But you look just as you did when I was seven..." Rosa's face brightened. "That's where my many talents came in handy." She looked at Ginny gleefully. "I had already explained to Ginny, here, but I suppose I could do with a bit of a demonstration." And before anyone could blink, her face began to contort into a new face — that of the old lady Rosa, complete with the horrid purple and green floral disaster she wore when she had kidnapped Ginny. "Bitch," Draco growled, as realization dawned on him. It came a lot quicker to him than it had to Ginny, as he had practically memorized all of his Hogwarts texts. "You mean you'd been spying on me since I left?" he asked angrilly, catching Ginny off guard. She had never heard him speak so vehemently — not even to Harry. The old Rosa nodded, looking so innocent with her old-lady smile. "I had to," she replied, in an old and shaky voice. "Someone had to keep tabs on you, what with you moving out of the Manor and everything. I gotta tell you, though," Rosa added, snickering slightly as she quickly transformed back to her real — or what Ginny was pretty sure was her real — form, "you are one hell of a flirt." Draco growled deeper, and he unknowingly tightened his grip on Ginny's hand. "'Keep tabs on me'?" he echoed. "What the hell for?" At this, Rosa smiled innocently (as innocently as a wench like her could, anyway). "That's for me to know, and for you to find out." She made her way out the door, when she turned around suddenly to stare pointedly at Draco. "But I will tell you this," she said, almost eagerly. "Not all dreams are idiotic." And then she left. Silence. Ginny turned to Draco, only to see that he was staring at the door with a murderous look on his face. She wanted to say something — anything to make him feel better. But what could she say? What could anyone say? But he needed to know, she told herself. He needed to know that she truly did love him. "Draco, I — " But she never got to finish her sentence, for the door had swung open once again. But it wasn't Rosa this time. It was Blaise, wearing a very pretty emerald gown and one of the deadliest looks Ginny had ever seen.
* * *
The atmosphere in the office only seemed to have tensed since he had been there last, and that was saying something, considering he'd just been there the day before. He supposed he should've known something was up, as the Granger girl was still in the office, despite the fact that it was early Sunday morning and that she no longer lived at the school. That and the odd look in her eyes, like she was staring at something far away, without really looking at anything all. Something was definitely up. "Ah, Severus," the Headmaster greeted. He looked unnaturaly upbeat, but then again, he almost often did. "So glad you could join us on such short notice." He motioned for Snape to have a seat while he fumbled with something in one of his desk drawers. With a boyish grin on his face, he pulled out a small bowl of colorful licorice and held it out to Snape in offering. When Shape said nothing, Dumbledore shrugged and happily began to nibble on one. Snape's patience grew thin. "Headmaster, I imagine there's a reason you've called me here," he said quickly, hiding the frustration in his tone while he rubbed at his arm. He shot the girl beside him a weird look. "And why is she staring at me?" Dumbledore smiled, giving Hermione a fond look before answering Snape's question. "You're right on one of your assumptions, Severus, there is a reason you're here." He paused to bite off a large piece of the licorice in his hands, then replied thickly, "but Miss Granger is not staring at you." Snape was quite used to the Headmaster's obscurities, so his patience hadn't left him entirely. But he could very well argue with the older man's last statement, as Granger was clearly gawking at him. She occupied the only other seat in the office, though she was barely sitting on it as her bum looked to be right on the edge. She was hunching over and breathing rather rapidly. She was sweating as well — so much, in fact, that Snape wondered why he never noticed it before. Her eyes were open wide, though they had a hollow sort of look to them. He gave the man before him an uncertain look. Surely someone as wise and experienced as Dumbledore would've noticed the suffering Granger was going through. But Dumbledore seemed quite content on devouring the licorice in his hand to notice. "Headmaster — " Snape began, but was cut off as the Granger girl spoke up. "The shape-shifter left but now there's someone else with them..." Or, at least he thought it was Granger. The words came out of her mouth without a doubt as her lips moved to the syllables. But the voice she spoke with was not of her own. It hardly sounded human to Snape. With a questioning brow quirked up, Snape turned back to the Headmaster, who seemed to have finally finished with his licorice and was now staring at Hermione with interest. "Do you know who it is?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Hermione shook her head. "No," she said, frowning in disappointment. "The image is too blurry, but she's got red hair. She's doing something with her wand..." Slowly, Snape began to piece it all together. The blank look, the perspiration, the unsteady breathing, the weird, unhuman voice — she was using the Sight. But how? Snape wondered, and was met with a small, secretive smile from Dumbledore. Snape's brows shot straight up into his greasy hair. Dumbledore had given her the Sight! While the magic itself was not permanent, it was still powerful enough to drain the energy right out of you. Snape had known Dumbledore enough to know that the old man would never intentionally put another life at risk for any reason, so why was he willingly risking putting the Granger girl into a coma? Snape turned back to the man before him and instantly tensed. Dumbledore's face no longer housed his small smile, or any smile for that matter. Instead he looked grave, downright regretful. The little hairs on Snape's arm stood up as he began to get that feeling in his stomach. The same feeling he had many years ago, when Dumbledore had asked him to go back to the Death Eaters. The feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Almost hesitantly, he spoke up. "Headmaster?" he croaked, as if it was the first time he'd ever used his voice. Dumbledore slowly brought his eyes down to stare at a black inkspot on his desk. No words were needed — Snape already knew. He knew the instant he stepped into the office, when his arm began to burn. A loud, sobbing scream suddenly filled the room. Hermione fell off the chair as she struggled to keep her weeping in control while she relayed the events. The two men in the room immediately stood up. It was hard to make out what she was saying, but they had managed to make out enough words to draw up an assumption. The critical words being "Draco", "Ginny", and "torture".
* * *
"Can't you people just leave me alone?!" Draco shouted, throwing his hands into the air. He was giving Blaise a frustrated look, hoping she'd take the hint and leave. Unfortunately for him, Blaise was never really that bright. She gave him a withering look, and held up a delicate hand to deliver a rude gesture. Draco had no problem returning it. He watched her with hawk-like eyes as she began to sashay her way towards the bed, though every second or so his eyes would unfocus. But his eyes were the least of his worries — Blaise was already bending over the edge of the bed. "Lovely seeing you again," Blaise said casually as she propped her elbows on the foot of the bed, elegantly holding her chin with her hands. Her sickeningly sweet smile flipped downward into a playful pout. "I'm only sorry it had to be at such a horrid time." "I'm sure," Draco replied, his tone practically redefining the word 'sarcasm'. Blaise giggled childishly. "Oh, Draco," she said playfully, "you're such the charmer." Then suddenly she got serious — as serious as Blaise could get, anyway. "I suppose you're thrilled to know your charms have worked again," she said, staring pointedly at Ginny, who did her best to look unmoved. Draco snarled. "Leave her out of it," he said defensively, and thrust out an arm between the two girls. "You got me already — she doesn't need to be here anymore." Ginny looked at him. He and Blaise were having some sort of staring showdown, and neither one looked like they'd be backing down anytime soon. But he was thinking of her — protecting her. Knowing that was enough to make her feel safe. Blaise, on the other hand, wasn't buying his act of heroism. "Don't be stupid, Draco," she said dryly. She seemed to be running out of patience. "Do you honestly think we'd have her here if we didn't need her?" "Yes," Draco answered simply, his expression impassive. Slowly, he lowered his arm until his hand fell unto Ginny's. He did not grasp her hand, though. He just left his hand there, sitting calmly on top of hers. Ginny tried not to let this simple gesture affect her so much, but there was no arguing with her accelerating heartbeat. Blaise actually snorted. "Spare me your sentimental crap," she snapped bitterly, pointedly avoiding Ginny's eyes. "Not everything is about you, Draco — as hard as that is for you to believe. We need her just as much as we need you." Draco changed tactics as quicker than either of them could blink. "What do you want with us?" At this, Blaise scoffed. "You'd have to be dumber than I thought if you think I'd tell you," she replied viciously. Draco rolled his eyes. "Then what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, feeling his patience run thin. "You'll know soon enough," Blaise answered evenly. She was staring at him, waiting. Then she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Honestly, Draco, where's your sense of adventure? Can't you just play along?" "Play along?" Draco shouted, looking hysterical. "Are you out of your mind, Blaise?! You've committed a felony — times four!" He paused, suddenly looking serious. "If somebody dies, it's lifetime in Azkaban for you." But Blaise just rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Azkaban doesn't scare me," she said honestly. She stared at Draco intently, almost disbelievingly. "Azkaban and death are the least of my problems." She shook her head at Draco's curious cocked brow. "Draco, don't you know? Can't you feel it?" "Feel what?" Draco asked slowly, almost dreading the answer. "The Dark Lord," she answered, without any hint of hesitation or struggle. "He's coming..." Now Draco knew she was mad. He felt Ginny shiver beside him, and he unconsciously wrapped his hand around hers. He shook his head at Blaise, though he never tore his eye away from her. "Blaise, you need help. Voldemort is dead — " Blaise winced as he spoke this " — and he's not coming back. He can't save your neck for this, Blaise. Don't do this. You can still get away." Ginny looked at him in surprise. After all that Blaise had done, he was still willing to let the woman go? Feeling slightly dejected, Ginny glanced from one to the other; they were staring at each other with such intensity that Ginny might as well have not been there. Draco looked determined, almost pleading while Blaise simply looked exasperated and miffed. "You don't understand," Blaise said throatily. She finally looked away from Draco to stare at the ground instead. "I can't believe you don't understand..." Draco sighed. "What don't I understand?" Blaise jerked her head up to look at him. Once again, Ginny felt she was invisible. Draco still held her hand protectively, but Blaise was in his mind — not herself. In the back of her mind, Ginny wondered if it'd always be like that with him... Blaise's eyes glistened with unwept tears. "The Dark Lord may be dead physically," she said, in barely a whisper, "but not spiritually." She let out a sad chuckle. "You've had Divination, Draco, you know how death works. The body never leaves the physical world, it's their soul that travels — " "The soul wanders, searching for their purpose now lost, and waiting for deliverance," Draco interjected, quoting one of his Divination texts. He shook his head at the other woman's lunacy. "Yes, yes, but what does that to do with Voldemort's return?" Blaise smiled; it was a sad smile. "The Dark Lord's soul never found deliverance," she said softly. "He made sure of that." She suddenly looked proud, like a mother would after their child overcomes stage fright. "He's a genius, really. Before the final battle against Potter, he cast a spell on himself; it was tricky little thing, and many of us are still not quite clear on the details of it, but we do know that the spell would harness his soul — should he die — and keep it from moving on." "Okay," Draco said absently; it was obvious he wasn't really processing it by the lack of shock in his voice. Blaise frowned, slightly put off by Draco's behavior. He acted as if he didn't care at all what happened to the world, though Blaise would never put it past him to think so. She cleared her throat haughtily. "To do that," she continued, as if Draco had never replied, "his soul needed a vessel — a temporary home until the day of his release would come; which is conveniently a day away. After a simple little ceremony, his soul will be awakened and he'll take his place as our leader once again." She paused, suddenly looking chipper. "Do you know who he chose, Draco?" There was no answer. Blaise smiled spitefully at his silence. Draco was not stupid, she knew he already knew so saying it was pointless. Though that didn't stop her from actually saying it; she wouldn't dare strip herself away from such fun. "He chose you," she said softly, almost in disbelieving awe. "Of all people, you were the one he wanted." She chuckled slightly, and dipped her hand into an inner pocket of her gown. "I thought for sure you knew. We left you hints and everything." Slowly, she drew her hand out. There was a sharp intake of breath; Draco kept unusually calm but Ginny was shaking like a leaf. In Blaise's hand was Tom Riddle's diary; still old and battered with a large hole in the middle and red stains enveloping the leather bound cover. Almost immediately had she laid eyes on the book was Ginny subjected to visions of her time in the Chamber. Draco felt her draw back in fear and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Blaise giggled. She looked absolutely joyous. "The Dark Lord lives in you," she said to Draco, grinning like a maniac. "Isn't that wonderful?" Draco gave her a dry look. "Wonderful, indeed," he replied without the slightest hint of enthusiasm. "I had always dreamed of having a mad man's soul rejuvenating inside me, and now I can finally die happy." "What happens to Draco's soul?" Ginny asked, speaking up for the first time. Blaise looked at her like she had just noticed her presence in the room. Ginny frowned angrilly at this, but she kept her mouth shut for Blaise's reply. She shrugged offhandedly, not really paying attention to the question. "I suppose it takes the place of the Dark Lord's soul and moves on." Draco let out an exasperated sound and looked deadpan. "That's just great. I mean, isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?" Blaise frowned, once again put off by Draco's childish ignorance. "I don't think you quite understand the gravity of the situation here, Draco." She was begining to wonder about the Dark Lord's choice of host. "You're body's host to the Dark Lord's very soul! You should at least act honored. He chose you out of hundreds. I mean, your father was practically jumping for joy." Draco snorted. "I doubt it. My father does not jump." He glowered, staring intently at a spot on the bed spread in front of him. "And like his opinion means anything to me," he said in an empty tone, "I literally killed him for it." Both Blaise and Ginny winced. It would've been fine if he had made that comment if his tone was laced with malice or even bitterness, but instead it was void of any sort of emotion. Overall, it was very chilling to hear someone be so empty. "Draco," Blaise said with a hint of uncertainty. She was looking at him with sympathy, and the last thing he needed was her pity. "Fuck off, Blaise," he said. He was tired and really did not want to have to deal with her antics. "Go fuck a grindylow or something." Blaise's compassion for Draco vanished immediately. She scowled at him, holding her hands at her sides and shaking her arms with controlled anger. "You're a bastard, Draco," she said with so much hatred that Ginny nearly gasped. "You deserve what's coming to you." "What? Being kicked out of my own body by a self-loving bigot with a snake fetish?" Blaise clicked her tongue, and shook her head slowly. "For now, that's the least of your problems." By then, Draco had had enough with her obscure way of answering and was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about when he lost sight of her. It was like someone screwed with the colors of the spectrum, and everything turned a grungy sort of gray. He saw two dark blotches around him and figured they were Ginny and Blaise. Blinking proved to be pointless, as all it did was make everything foggier. Then suddenly it wasn't just his eyes that was bothering him when his chest gave a curious jolt. There was a shallow, twisting feeling near his heart like someone was literally tugging and wrenching it about. He wasn't even aware he was falling til his back made contact with the mattress. He heard Ginny scream and tried to call out to her when his vocal chords refused to function. Panicked, he tried to reach out for her but felt nothing but air. When everything began to go dark, an odd feeling of serenity washed over him, and all he could think about was his father, and how right he was. There isn't a tunnel of light, Draco finally agreed, but an endless path of darkness.
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Ooooh, I'm evil. >D I was planning on adding more but I'm totally jet-lagged and my mind hasn't left New York yet. Anyhoo, I'm sure everyone's over the OotP shock already, hmm? I must admit; I was highly disappointed with Draco's staticness. Poor Draco! There're only two more books left, if he doesn't show a teensy bit of goodness in the next book, I'm afraid there'll be no more hope! *continues to sob and rant about the injustice of Draco's staticness for seven more hours* @_@; Oh well... There's always fandom, isn't there? ^^
Teribly sorry for the long wait: Joya, Headmaster Cromwell, Eiko, Alila, Madussa, Beth, and Hipogriff11. Thanks for being so patient with me. ^^ You guys rock!
Chapter Seventeen: Draco's past, Blaise's potion, and Ginny's sacrifice.
Chapter Sixteen: The Past, The Plan, and The Premonition
There was a long and pregnant pause. The world Hermione saw through her newly gifted eyes swirled and distorted, effectively giving her one hell of a headache. She groaned and instinctively clutched her head. "Control it," she heard Dumbledore say from somewhere far away. "Focus on the boys and Ginny. Find them." "I can't," Hermione gasped, as she felt a sharp pain shoot through her right eye. "They're not together! The rooms won't stay still it — it hurts too much..." Then suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. The feeling itself seemed to soothe her mind, but her eyes were still throbbing like mad. "Try this then," he told her calmly, making sure to say each word carefully so she'd understand. "Focus on Voldemort — concentrate on his soul." Hermione sighed, and slowly brought her hands down. She screwed her eyes tightly, focusing every ounce of her energy and might into locating Voldemort — why though, she had no clue. But there was no use arguing with the Headmaster. Slowly, the chaos of colors and images she saw began to take shape and focus. And suddenly, she was in a bedroom again. Though Harry and Ron were no where in sight. Instead, she saw a flash of a silver head, huddling close against a head of scarlet. It was as if she was watching a movie in fast forward, as she was suddenly brought down to get a very clear close-up of a familiar pale and pointy face... She gasped suddenly, as a hand flew up to cover her gaping mouth. She didn't have to say anything, for Dumbledore already knew. As surprised as he was, he could not help but smile. And so he was wrong...
"Pansy?" Harry's eyes couldn't get any bigger. At the very mention of her name, he was automatically brought back to his time spent in the dingy Potions classroom, having to spend hours listening to little Pansy's annoying tittering. But the woman who stood proudly before him was not the same Pansy Parkinson he knew. No, she was no longer little, and while there were still traces of her pug-like face visible beneath the extensive amount of make-up she wore, her body by all means compensated for it. Now Harry was never a man to go for bodily appearances, not since the Cho Chang fiasco, but as Pansy stood before him, his eyes couldn't help but trace her long white legs which were clearly visible through the slit in her black gown. The gown itself was a bit of a scandal, with it's low-cut, off-the-shoulder top, impossibly tight body that seemed to give her bosom an extra heave, and flowing rivers of black velvet that only accented the pure white of her ivory legs. He was quite certain Pansy had never looked like that when they were still in school. Harry was clearly not the only one who noticed Pansy's drastic change, as he heard Ron give out a low whistle from beside him. Pansy's face contorted into a smug grin upon seeing the goggling looks Harry and Ron were giving her. She strutted around proudly, being extra careful to sway her lips and puff out her chest as she did so. Her grin grew when she heard the choking noises Ron was making. She turned to Harry and bent down before him so her hands were on her knees, and her chest only a few inches away from Harry's nose. She mentally noted the hurried glance down her dress before Harry forced his eyes to burrow into hers. "The famous Harry Potter," she said in greeting. She shot the man beside him a contemptuous look. "Ron," she said, her voice dripping with disgust. Ron, having forgotten his earlier attraction, growled his reply. She grinned again and, having felt her job was done, turned back to Harry. "Well well," she said, her dark eyes giving her glee away. She straightened up and began to pace in front of them. "I can't say I was expecting you two to be here, but," she stopped and strode towards Harry, "now that you are, I must say how thrilled I am." "Afraid I can't say I feel the same," Harry said impassively. Pansy put on a dark grin. "You're getting rather cocky," she said, sounding slightly impressed. "Have you finally gotten yourself a backbone?" Harry didn't even blink. He'd gotten too much field practice with Malfoy to be moved by Pansy's little taunts. "Unlike you," he said, his tone even, "I'm using what's naturally mine." Pansy's anger flared. She puffed her chest out indignantly, and regarded Harry for a moment before finally breaking out into another grin. She bent down before him, conveniently positioning herself so that her bosom was in Harry's direct field of vision. She used a long and delicate finger to lift Harry's chin. Harry lowered his dark brows menacingly, though his eyes remained void of any emotion. Pansy only grinned. "I can't tell you how long I've waited for this," she said in a husky breath, and before anyone could do or say anything, she covered Harry's mouth with hers and successfully had the Boy Who Lived in a passionate liplock. And it was a horrid kiss too. Pansy literally groped Harry's mouth, using her tongue as a sort of prodding stick to examine every one of his teeth, then shoot it down his throat, as if the thought of her mouth on his was bad enough. She used her hands to pin either one of his arms against the wall, though she needn't have to as he could barely move. Try as he might to muffle out his objections to the invasion of his personal space, Pansy just couldn't take the hint. She continued to feel around his mouth, and when that area got too tedious, she settled for an area due more south. Way south. "Hey!" he intended to shout, though it ended up sounding more like a "Hmrehy!" He mustered up as much strength as he could to try and kick Pansy off of him (she had settled herself on his lap after the first few minutes of intense kissing), but all he had managed to do was thrash his legs about weakly. Pansy, having appeared to have had her fill, finally ended the liplock, and breathed out a triumphant sort of sigh. The two men who had accompanied Pansy, whom Harry now realized was Crabbe and Goyle, each made faces of sheer disgust, though neither one of their faces compared to the one Ron had, who looked like he would be sick all over Pansy's gown very soon. Pansy chuckled at their gaping looks, then shook her head. "Pardon me for my rudeness," she said silkily, giving Harry a meaningful look, "but you must understand what a school girl dream of mine that had been. Kissing the Boy Who Lived — wait 'til I tell Blaise..." She smiled sweetly, and pushed herself off of Harry's lap to come face to face with Crabbe and Goyle. (Actually, considering that both men towered over her, even with her heels on, it was more like 'face to chest'.) "Speaking of whom," she said to the men, "go run off and tell her that she can begin." Harry heard her chuckle dryly. "The potion should be taking it's full effect now, and there's no reason that I should be the only one to have a little fun..." Both Crabbe and Goyle gave her dubious looks, sending Harry meaningful looks before turning back to her. Harry heard Pansy's exasperated scoff and was quite sure she was rolling her eyes just then as she said, "I'm not going to do that again! Honestly! Just go on and tell Blaise, okay?" The last of her words came out in strained irritation. Still looking doubtful, Crabbe and Goyle slowly made their way out of the room. Once they were gone, Pansy's frustration turned to joy. She turned back to her two guests and happily jumped unto the nearby loveseat. She just smiled at them. "What do you want with us?" Harry heard Ron ask, and Pansy cackled. "Absolutely nothing," she said with utmost sincerity. Then, in a hushed, more secretive voice, she added, "It's not you we want."
He was hugging her. Ginny's eyes, if possible, widened even more. She thought for sure he would be kissing her. She'd heard her share of rumors when she was in school. Draco "Trigger Lips" Malfoy. If the rumors were true, they'd already be in a compromising position, with their bodies radiating the kind of passionate heat she'd only read about in those Muggle romance novels. But no. Draco was hugging her. Actually and genuinely hugging her. He didn't even try to unhook her bra strap, which was a mere two inches from where his hands lay. He wasn't pulling a move on her or anything. He was just hugging her. And it wasn't even one of those intense hugs, where he would hold on to her like their very lives depended on their bodies together. No... He just held her. Like a mother would her baby — like he was protecting her. Confused and slightly disappointed, she wrapped her arms around Draco and hugged him back. They sat there on the bed of a candle-lit room, holding each other as gently as they could, with their bodies radiating a different kind of heat; a sort of comforting warmth that made her feel safe, that nothing bad could ever happen as long as he held her. She had felt this warmth before, in the cold hands of Tom Riddle. But the security he gave her was illusionary. He'd spun her lies and promised her dreams he never planned on fulfilling. Draco was the honest truth, as brutal as the truth can be. Tom had been cold and vicious, years of evil ahead of his age. Charm and wisdom were his weapons. Vulnerability was nonexistent. Draco, on the other hand, had to grow up in the worst of ways. Beneath his cold and blank exterior screamed a child needing to be loved. Tom lied and cheated for power. Draco lied and cheated for recognition and hope. Tom was poised and determined. Draco was just lost and confused. No, Ginny thought as she pulled Draco closer. He was nothing like Tom. Because, unlike the handsome, raven-haired bastard she now oh-so-affectionately called 'the handsome, raven-haired bastard', her feelings for Draco were stronger, if not foggier and more complex. Then came the tears. She was no stranger to tears, and normaly she'd use all of her energy to resist. But now she welcomed them with open arms. Tears cleansed the soul, she'd heard, though she doubted any whirlpool of tears would cleanse a soul such as her's. No, she'd gone too far, done too many evils. And yet... Her eyes strayed towards the man who was soundlessly holding her. Compared to Draco, her soul must've looked spotless. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. She shouldn't be thinking of him that way. Sure, Draco's done his share of evils, but he's changed. ... Hasn't he? Her eyes unwillingly opened and she found herself glancing at Draco again. The tears had stopped flowing moments ago, so she no longer had to blink to be able to focus her line of vision. But of course, she could only see the top of his head, as he was nestling his forehead on the crook of her neck. She suddenly felt the hot release of his breath on her chest, and she wondered just how long he had been doing that without her knowing so. She would certainly have remembered the little chill her spine would get whenever he did so. She shook her head again, making sure she didn't knock Draco's head when she did so. Stop thinking that way, she told herself forcefully. Great Godric, here she was, in possibly one of the most terrifying situations of her life, and all she could think about was how hot the room was suddenly getting? She sighed. She really needed to get her priorities straight. But who could blame her, really? She was seventeen afterall... She shook her head again, this time out of pure shame. Biting the bottom of her lip, she gingerly rotated her neck as she felt the not-so-welcome cramp advancing. That's when she realized that Draco was no longer hugging her. Or holding her for that matter. Sure, he still had his arms wrapped around her, but he was more like leaning on her. Then, as if one cue, came the muffled noises of Draco's snores — though they were too soft and elegant to be called 'snores'. She pursed her lips in irritation and wondered how long he had been sleeping. She didn't bother to take too much time to think on it for the weight of the older, much larger boy was quickly getting to her, and she greatly feared the kind of cramps her neck would encounter if she let the man drape his arms over her any longer. With her left hand, she gently pushed him off of her, effectively catching him with her other arm. She squirmed around underneath him, so that his head was laying peacefully atop her lap. She gingerly crossed her legs beside her, and leaned on her left arm while she absentmindedly twirled around a few strands of Draco's hair with her other hand. She noticed almost immediately the sudden change in his appearance. His pallor had definitely increased since she last laid eyes on him — and she highly doubted it had been that long — so much so that he looked nearly translucent. There were dark circles around his eyes — nothing too worrying, as he'd had those circles for a long while now, but their depth and color seemed to heighten. He was sweating as well, which was odd considering the vibe she got from Draco was no longer warmth, but sheer coldness. Ginny's worry seemed to sky rocket as she took a closer look at him. He looked so skinny — so unhealthy. He certainly didn't look like this a few moments ago. What could've happened in such a short time to make his appearance look not only battered, but near death as well? Frowning, she stopped playing with his hair to feel his forehead. Then she felt it — traveling through his veins like a serpent, working and weaving its way in and out of his heart. The freezing aura it sent off was so strong, that if Ginny hadn't known better, she would've thought it was slithering inside herself. The horrible truth had already hit her, but she simply refused to believe it. Though it was all in vain. She'd been training under Snape long enough to know... Pallor, low temperature, perspiration — all common side-effects of a powerful poison. Her bottom lip quivered as she sent the man snoozing on her lap a pleading look. "Oh, Merlin, no," she gasped, struggling to fight the tears that she no longer welcomed. "No... You can't," she whispered, her voice wavering as she struggled to push past her sobs. But there was no use denying it. Draco was dying. She knew this, deep down, but she refused to allow herself to believe it, because if he was dying, she would never be able to tell him how she felt. Because it was at that moment, of all times, that she truly realized — as illogical as it sounded. She didn't even feel the regret she initially thought she would when she finally spoke the words. "I... love you..." Suddenly there was a loud choking noise. Ginny's eyes snapped open at the foreign sound, and she stared wide-eyed at the man laying on her lap, only to be met with even wider gray eyes. Ginny's mind seemed to explode with panic. How long had he been awake?! From the astonished look he was giving her, she figured long enough to hear her effectively shoving her large foot into her even larger mouth. Her breathing quickened as Draco's wide eyes continued to stare up at her, searching her face for sincerity. She had to do something — anything! So she swore. With a passion, too. She practically flung out every swear word she knew, and some she didn't. If it had been another, less serious time, she would've been impressed with her vivid imagery. When she ended her little tirade, Draco just blinked. Probably too stunned to even comprehend the things she had just said. Slowly, his mouth formed an 'O' shape and his brows blended together — all of which Ginny had no doubt were the beginnings of a question. "What?" he finally got out. Ginny inwardly groaned. She hated being right. She took a deep breath, and prompt ignored his question. "You're alive," she said, feigning innocence. Draco didn't seem to be very impressed by this, as he sent her an impatient, withering look. "Why wouldn't I be alive?" he asked pompously, forcing Ginny to roll her eyes. He sounded too much like Percy for his own good. "Because you've been drugged, you idiot," she said hotly, muttering the last part under her breath. Unfortunately for her, Draco still heard it. He scowled — though not as sternly as he usually did, something Ginny found a bit odd — and huffed angrilly. "I have not been drugged," he said with conviction, though he could not suppress the shiver that passed through his body as he did so. Ginny saw right through it, and, in case Draco did not catch her dubious look, rolled her eyes for better effect. Then something inside Draco snapped — though not literally. He suddenly turned to Ginny, and said, in the accusing manner of a five-year old, "Hey! You dodged my question!" Ginny sent him an innocent smile. "What question?" she asked. Draco actually growled, giving Ginny a not-so pleasant view of his upper canines. Her smile faltered just a tad, but nevertheless, she stood her ground. "You said something just as I woke up," he enunciated every syllable, so Ginny wouldn't have any excuse like she didn't understand. Ginny sighed. She just decided to just flow with it — what else could she do? "I love you," she said, plastering a sweet smile across her face. Her straight-forwardness obviously came as a shock to Draco, as his brows shot up a few notches. She watched his eyelids flutter open drop shut with such speed that she wondered if he was doing it intentionally or not. Draco seemed to have a difficulty processing this new information, so Ginny decided to stay quiet and wait. It would apparently be a long wait, as Draco's struggling didn't seem to falter. "Why?" he practically shouted, so suddenly that Ginny nearly jumped in surprise. "Why what?" she asked him as she inwardly cooed her heartbeat to slow down. Draco seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "Why do you — you know..." Ginny tilted her head to the side, clearly not comprehending. Draco sighed in exasperation. "You know!" he said, wishing he could gesture with his hands (but then again, what sort of gesture could he do?). Ginny still hadn't gotten it, so Draco rolled his eyes. "The 'L' word," he said, in barely a whisper. Ginny frowned. He acted like even mentioning the word was something forbidden. Then she found herself shrugging. Who knows? she thought idly, perhaps for a Malfoy, it is. She shook her head at his childish behavior anyway, and said, in a loud and clear voice, "You mean love?" Draco glared at her, looking scandalous. Ginny rolled her eyes and frowned down at him. "Goodness, Draco!" she said, putting her hands on her hips — which was really a lot more difficult to do, as Draco was still laying on her lap. But she did it anyways, for added effect of her frustration with him. "You act like it's something bad!" Draco's eyes immediately darkened, and his expression grew grave. "It can be," he said, in such a serious voice that he surprised Ginny. "It's not something you take lightly. Love's a strong word, Ginny. It's heavy with strings of promise and obligation. When you love somebody, you let your guard down and openly welcome that person into your heart. That's how pain arises." Ginny gaped at him. She had never heard anyone — let alone Draco Malfoy — talk about love with such... hatred and regret. She found herself fighting the urge to hug the man, for she felt he was in serious need of one. His childhood must've been really fucked up. "You're right," she told him firmly, intentionally staring deep into his dark, gray eyes. Draco looked up at her with a slight hint of surprise. "Love does bring pain. But without the pain, Draco, you'd never know what true happiness is..." Draco gave her a long, calculating look. Then he turned away, half-closing his eyelids as he said, in a low and hollow voice, "I still don't." Ginny frowned, but not out of frustration or anger, but pure sadness and empathy for Draco. "Then let me show you," she said softly, looking down at him with pleading eyes. Draco looked up at her, his eyes slightly widened, and looked as if he didn't know what to say. After a few tense moments, he opened his mouth to say something, then the door of the room swung open. Draco shut his mouth almost immediately, and followed Ginny's gaze towards the doorway. Rosa stood there, completely oblivious that she had just ruined such an important moment. Ginny noticed right away the change in Rosa's attire. She wore velvet robes of burgundy and a matching cloak which was wrapped around her shoulders and fastened just above her chest with a silver emblem. The emblem itself was fascinating, with it's lush quality and design of a very realistic-looking serpent, wrapping around a crystal 'M', but the thing that fascinated Ginny most was that Rosa actually looked decent. She displayed no cleavage what-so-ever, not even a little bit of leg. Her whole body was covered, save for her collar area and neck. But perhaps the most surprising to Ginny was the look Draco was giving the intruder. A mix of recognition and utter confusion, almost as if he knew her. Though the little gasping noises he was making gave Ginny the impression that he had trouble believing himself. Rosa's expression, on the other hand, looked downright pretentious. "Mademoiselle Gwyn?" Draco choked out, after finally getting up off of Ginny's lap to look at the woman square in the eye. Rosa grinned, tilting her head from side-to-side with such vigor that the river of raven-black hair she possessed swayed behind her. "Oui, Monsieur Malfoy," she replied, in flawless French. Draco visably paled. Ginny just frowned. Since when was Rosa French? Or "Mademoiselle Gwyn" for that matter? And was it just her, or was Rosa acting a tad bit more mature? Draco made even more noises, which sounded like they were originating from somewhere behind his throat. He was obviously struggling with Rosa's sudden appearance. Ginny's frown only grew as she looked from Draco, who finally seemed to have stopped the choking noises, and settled for flat-out gawking instead, to Rosa, who looked as calm and cool as ever. "Draco?" Ginny asked tentatively, as he began to look as if he had just seen a ghost. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, eventually snapping him out of his daze. He blinked at her a few times, before turning back to Rosa. "I don't understand...," Draco said slowly, shaking his head. "You died." Ginny's brows jumped up in surprise as Rosa threw her head back in laughter. The very vibe of it sent chills running down Ginny's spine. "It was rather brilliant, wasn't it?" Rosa said between chuckles, not one hint of a French accent in her tone. She was grinning like mad. "It was your father's idea, really. Count it as a life's lesson. And you, of all people, needed to be taught dearly." Ginny looked at Draco to see his reaction to this. Surprisingly, he said nothing. Save for a few spots of pink donning his cheeks, he looked unruffled. "Draco?" Ginny asked again, tugging on his shirt sleeve and moving closer. Draco shook his head roughly, looking every bit of confused. "Mademoiselle Gwyn was my au paire," Draco said, crinkling his brows thoughtfully. Ginny was rather rusty on her French customs, but she knew enough to know what an au paire was. That's what Rosa meant when she said she knew more about Draco than Ginny did, she thought listlessly. Draco shook his head once more. "My father killed you," he said to Rosa, who only continued to grin. Ginny looked at Draco. The look in his face was of nothing but bewilderment, though there was something in his eyes... Pain? But before Ginny could voice her assumptions, Rosa had begun to speak again. "That," she said carefully, "is where you are wrong. Your father never killed me, Draco. I was barely even an au paire." Her grin grew triumphant and proud. "It was all a scam — all of it." Draco seemed to be dreading the answer of his next question. "Why?" "You needed to be taught what pain felt like," she said simply, her grin no longer around. Instead, she looked void of any emotion. "The heart is the weakest part of the human, Draco. You had to be taught to rise above it's desires. You needed to be stronger." Draco didn't answer. He displayed nothing to suggest it, but Ginny could just tell that Rosa's last statement hurt him, whether he knew it or not. So Rosa had been Draco's au paire, he'd gotten close to her, then somewhere down the line, his father had her "killed". Just to show Draco that caring for someone is weak. If Lucius Malfoy were still alive, Ginny would've killed him herself. That rotten bastard. "You should've seen the way you'd look at me, with those wide and admiring gray eyes of yours," Rosa continued, looking vindictive. "You trusted me so much — you'd tell me everything. Your secrets. Your fears... Your dreams." She scoffed, giving Draco one of the dirtiest looks Ginny had ever seen. "And what idiotic dreams you had." Draco visibly stiffened as Rosa stepped closer, neither one of them taking their eyes off the other. "Poor child," Rosa said acidly. "You'll never be Minister of Magic, or Seeker of the Chudley Cannons. You'll never grow up with the respect your father had. And no one will ever truly love you." Ginny blanched. No wonder he didn't believe her, she thought sadly. No wonder... "How did you do it?" he asked her finally. Ginny saw that he was clenching and unclenching his fists on either side of him. She held one his hands in what she hoped he would take as a comforting gesture. He looked back at her in surprise, but Ginny was looking at Rosa expectantly. "Faking a death is not very hard," Rosa answered. "Your father had it planned all along. He's a master of Dark Arts, so pulling it off was nothing short of a magic trick." Draco shook his head again. "But you look just as you did when I was seven..." Rosa's face brightened. "That's where my many talents came in handy." She looked at Ginny gleefully. "I had already explained to Ginny, here, but I suppose I could do with a bit of a demonstration." And before anyone could blink, her face began to contort into a new face — that of the old lady Rosa, complete with the horrid purple and green floral disaster she wore when she had kidnapped Ginny. "Bitch," Draco growled, as realization dawned on him. It came a lot quicker to him than it had to Ginny, as he had practically memorized all of his Hogwarts texts. "You mean you'd been spying on me since I left?" he asked angrilly, catching Ginny off guard. She had never heard him speak so vehemently — not even to Harry. The old Rosa nodded, looking so innocent with her old-lady smile. "I had to," she replied, in an old and shaky voice. "Someone had to keep tabs on you, what with you moving out of the Manor and everything. I gotta tell you, though," Rosa added, snickering slightly as she quickly transformed back to her real — or what Ginny was pretty sure was her real — form, "you are one hell of a flirt." Draco growled deeper, and he unknowingly tightened his grip on Ginny's hand. "'Keep tabs on me'?" he echoed. "What the hell for?" At this, Rosa smiled innocently (as innocently as a wench like her could, anyway). "That's for me to know, and for you to find out." She made her way out the door, when she turned around suddenly to stare pointedly at Draco. "But I will tell you this," she said, almost eagerly. "Not all dreams are idiotic." And then she left. Silence. Ginny turned to Draco, only to see that he was staring at the door with a murderous look on his face. She wanted to say something — anything to make him feel better. But what could she say? What could anyone say? But he needed to know, she told herself. He needed to know that she truly did love him. "Draco, I — " But she never got to finish her sentence, for the door had swung open once again. But it wasn't Rosa this time. It was Blaise, wearing a very pretty emerald gown and one of the deadliest looks Ginny had ever seen.
The atmosphere in the office only seemed to have tensed since he had been there last, and that was saying something, considering he'd just been there the day before. He supposed he should've known something was up, as the Granger girl was still in the office, despite the fact that it was early Sunday morning and that she no longer lived at the school. That and the odd look in her eyes, like she was staring at something far away, without really looking at anything all. Something was definitely up. "Ah, Severus," the Headmaster greeted. He looked unnaturaly upbeat, but then again, he almost often did. "So glad you could join us on such short notice." He motioned for Snape to have a seat while he fumbled with something in one of his desk drawers. With a boyish grin on his face, he pulled out a small bowl of colorful licorice and held it out to Snape in offering. When Shape said nothing, Dumbledore shrugged and happily began to nibble on one. Snape's patience grew thin. "Headmaster, I imagine there's a reason you've called me here," he said quickly, hiding the frustration in his tone while he rubbed at his arm. He shot the girl beside him a weird look. "And why is she staring at me?" Dumbledore smiled, giving Hermione a fond look before answering Snape's question. "You're right on one of your assumptions, Severus, there is a reason you're here." He paused to bite off a large piece of the licorice in his hands, then replied thickly, "but Miss Granger is not staring at you." Snape was quite used to the Headmaster's obscurities, so his patience hadn't left him entirely. But he could very well argue with the older man's last statement, as Granger was clearly gawking at him. She occupied the only other seat in the office, though she was barely sitting on it as her bum looked to be right on the edge. She was hunching over and breathing rather rapidly. She was sweating as well — so much, in fact, that Snape wondered why he never noticed it before. Her eyes were open wide, though they had a hollow sort of look to them. He gave the man before him an uncertain look. Surely someone as wise and experienced as Dumbledore would've noticed the suffering Granger was going through. But Dumbledore seemed quite content on devouring the licorice in his hand to notice. "Headmaster — " Snape began, but was cut off as the Granger girl spoke up. "The shape-shifter left but now there's someone else with them..." Or, at least he thought it was Granger. The words came out of her mouth without a doubt as her lips moved to the syllables. But the voice she spoke with was not of her own. It hardly sounded human to Snape. With a questioning brow quirked up, Snape turned back to the Headmaster, who seemed to have finally finished with his licorice and was now staring at Hermione with interest. "Do you know who it is?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Hermione shook her head. "No," she said, frowning in disappointment. "The image is too blurry, but she's got red hair. She's doing something with her wand..." Slowly, Snape began to piece it all together. The blank look, the perspiration, the unsteady breathing, the weird, unhuman voice — she was using the Sight. But how? Snape wondered, and was met with a small, secretive smile from Dumbledore. Snape's brows shot straight up into his greasy hair. Dumbledore had given her the Sight! While the magic itself was not permanent, it was still powerful enough to drain the energy right out of you. Snape had known Dumbledore enough to know that the old man would never intentionally put another life at risk for any reason, so why was he willingly risking putting the Granger girl into a coma? Snape turned back to the man before him and instantly tensed. Dumbledore's face no longer housed his small smile, or any smile for that matter. Instead he looked grave, downright regretful. The little hairs on Snape's arm stood up as he began to get that feeling in his stomach. The same feeling he had many years ago, when Dumbledore had asked him to go back to the Death Eaters. The feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Almost hesitantly, he spoke up. "Headmaster?" he croaked, as if it was the first time he'd ever used his voice. Dumbledore slowly brought his eyes down to stare at a black inkspot on his desk. No words were needed — Snape already knew. He knew the instant he stepped into the office, when his arm began to burn. A loud, sobbing scream suddenly filled the room. Hermione fell off the chair as she struggled to keep her weeping in control while she relayed the events. The two men in the room immediately stood up. It was hard to make out what she was saying, but they had managed to make out enough words to draw up an assumption. The critical words being "Draco", "Ginny", and "torture".
"Can't you people just leave me alone?!" Draco shouted, throwing his hands into the air. He was giving Blaise a frustrated look, hoping she'd take the hint and leave. Unfortunately for him, Blaise was never really that bright. She gave him a withering look, and held up a delicate hand to deliver a rude gesture. Draco had no problem returning it. He watched her with hawk-like eyes as she began to sashay her way towards the bed, though every second or so his eyes would unfocus. But his eyes were the least of his worries — Blaise was already bending over the edge of the bed. "Lovely seeing you again," Blaise said casually as she propped her elbows on the foot of the bed, elegantly holding her chin with her hands. Her sickeningly sweet smile flipped downward into a playful pout. "I'm only sorry it had to be at such a horrid time." "I'm sure," Draco replied, his tone practically redefining the word 'sarcasm'. Blaise giggled childishly. "Oh, Draco," she said playfully, "you're such the charmer." Then suddenly she got serious — as serious as Blaise could get, anyway. "I suppose you're thrilled to know your charms have worked again," she said, staring pointedly at Ginny, who did her best to look unmoved. Draco snarled. "Leave her out of it," he said defensively, and thrust out an arm between the two girls. "You got me already — she doesn't need to be here anymore." Ginny looked at him. He and Blaise were having some sort of staring showdown, and neither one looked like they'd be backing down anytime soon. But he was thinking of her — protecting her. Knowing that was enough to make her feel safe. Blaise, on the other hand, wasn't buying his act of heroism. "Don't be stupid, Draco," she said dryly. She seemed to be running out of patience. "Do you honestly think we'd have her here if we didn't need her?" "Yes," Draco answered simply, his expression impassive. Slowly, he lowered his arm until his hand fell unto Ginny's. He did not grasp her hand, though. He just left his hand there, sitting calmly on top of hers. Ginny tried not to let this simple gesture affect her so much, but there was no arguing with her accelerating heartbeat. Blaise actually snorted. "Spare me your sentimental crap," she snapped bitterly, pointedly avoiding Ginny's eyes. "Not everything is about you, Draco — as hard as that is for you to believe. We need her just as much as we need you." Draco changed tactics as quicker than either of them could blink. "What do you want with us?" At this, Blaise scoffed. "You'd have to be dumber than I thought if you think I'd tell you," she replied viciously. Draco rolled his eyes. "Then what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, feeling his patience run thin. "You'll know soon enough," Blaise answered evenly. She was staring at him, waiting. Then she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Honestly, Draco, where's your sense of adventure? Can't you just play along?" "Play along?" Draco shouted, looking hysterical. "Are you out of your mind, Blaise?! You've committed a felony — times four!" He paused, suddenly looking serious. "If somebody dies, it's lifetime in Azkaban for you." But Blaise just rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Azkaban doesn't scare me," she said honestly. She stared at Draco intently, almost disbelievingly. "Azkaban and death are the least of my problems." She shook her head at Draco's curious cocked brow. "Draco, don't you know? Can't you feel it?" "Feel what?" Draco asked slowly, almost dreading the answer. "The Dark Lord," she answered, without any hint of hesitation or struggle. "He's coming..." Now Draco knew she was mad. He felt Ginny shiver beside him, and he unconsciously wrapped his hand around hers. He shook his head at Blaise, though he never tore his eye away from her. "Blaise, you need help. Voldemort is dead — " Blaise winced as he spoke this " — and he's not coming back. He can't save your neck for this, Blaise. Don't do this. You can still get away." Ginny looked at him in surprise. After all that Blaise had done, he was still willing to let the woman go? Feeling slightly dejected, Ginny glanced from one to the other; they were staring at each other with such intensity that Ginny might as well have not been there. Draco looked determined, almost pleading while Blaise simply looked exasperated and miffed. "You don't understand," Blaise said throatily. She finally looked away from Draco to stare at the ground instead. "I can't believe you don't understand..." Draco sighed. "What don't I understand?" Blaise jerked her head up to look at him. Once again, Ginny felt she was invisible. Draco still held her hand protectively, but Blaise was in his mind — not herself. In the back of her mind, Ginny wondered if it'd always be like that with him... Blaise's eyes glistened with unwept tears. "The Dark Lord may be dead physically," she said, in barely a whisper, "but not spiritually." She let out a sad chuckle. "You've had Divination, Draco, you know how death works. The body never leaves the physical world, it's their soul that travels — " "The soul wanders, searching for their purpose now lost, and waiting for deliverance," Draco interjected, quoting one of his Divination texts. He shook his head at the other woman's lunacy. "Yes, yes, but what does that to do with Voldemort's return?" Blaise smiled; it was a sad smile. "The Dark Lord's soul never found deliverance," she said softly. "He made sure of that." She suddenly looked proud, like a mother would after their child overcomes stage fright. "He's a genius, really. Before the final battle against Potter, he cast a spell on himself; it was tricky little thing, and many of us are still not quite clear on the details of it, but we do know that the spell would harness his soul — should he die — and keep it from moving on." "Okay," Draco said absently; it was obvious he wasn't really processing it by the lack of shock in his voice. Blaise frowned, slightly put off by Draco's behavior. He acted as if he didn't care at all what happened to the world, though Blaise would never put it past him to think so. She cleared her throat haughtily. "To do that," she continued, as if Draco had never replied, "his soul needed a vessel — a temporary home until the day of his release would come; which is conveniently a day away. After a simple little ceremony, his soul will be awakened and he'll take his place as our leader once again." She paused, suddenly looking chipper. "Do you know who he chose, Draco?" There was no answer. Blaise smiled spitefully at his silence. Draco was not stupid, she knew he already knew so saying it was pointless. Though that didn't stop her from actually saying it; she wouldn't dare strip herself away from such fun. "He chose you," she said softly, almost in disbelieving awe. "Of all people, you were the one he wanted." She chuckled slightly, and dipped her hand into an inner pocket of her gown. "I thought for sure you knew. We left you hints and everything." Slowly, she drew her hand out. There was a sharp intake of breath; Draco kept unusually calm but Ginny was shaking like a leaf. In Blaise's hand was Tom Riddle's diary; still old and battered with a large hole in the middle and red stains enveloping the leather bound cover. Almost immediately had she laid eyes on the book was Ginny subjected to visions of her time in the Chamber. Draco felt her draw back in fear and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Blaise giggled. She looked absolutely joyous. "The Dark Lord lives in you," she said to Draco, grinning like a maniac. "Isn't that wonderful?" Draco gave her a dry look. "Wonderful, indeed," he replied without the slightest hint of enthusiasm. "I had always dreamed of having a mad man's soul rejuvenating inside me, and now I can finally die happy." "What happens to Draco's soul?" Ginny asked, speaking up for the first time. Blaise looked at her like she had just noticed her presence in the room. Ginny frowned angrilly at this, but she kept her mouth shut for Blaise's reply. She shrugged offhandedly, not really paying attention to the question. "I suppose it takes the place of the Dark Lord's soul and moves on." Draco let out an exasperated sound and looked deadpan. "That's just great. I mean, isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?" Blaise frowned, once again put off by Draco's childish ignorance. "I don't think you quite understand the gravity of the situation here, Draco." She was begining to wonder about the Dark Lord's choice of host. "You're body's host to the Dark Lord's very soul! You should at least act honored. He chose you out of hundreds. I mean, your father was practically jumping for joy." Draco snorted. "I doubt it. My father does not jump." He glowered, staring intently at a spot on the bed spread in front of him. "And like his opinion means anything to me," he said in an empty tone, "I literally killed him for it." Both Blaise and Ginny winced. It would've been fine if he had made that comment if his tone was laced with malice or even bitterness, but instead it was void of any sort of emotion. Overall, it was very chilling to hear someone be so empty. "Draco," Blaise said with a hint of uncertainty. She was looking at him with sympathy, and the last thing he needed was her pity. "Fuck off, Blaise," he said. He was tired and really did not want to have to deal with her antics. "Go fuck a grindylow or something." Blaise's compassion for Draco vanished immediately. She scowled at him, holding her hands at her sides and shaking her arms with controlled anger. "You're a bastard, Draco," she said with so much hatred that Ginny nearly gasped. "You deserve what's coming to you." "What? Being kicked out of my own body by a self-loving bigot with a snake fetish?" Blaise clicked her tongue, and shook her head slowly. "For now, that's the least of your problems." By then, Draco had had enough with her obscure way of answering and was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about when he lost sight of her. It was like someone screwed with the colors of the spectrum, and everything turned a grungy sort of gray. He saw two dark blotches around him and figured they were Ginny and Blaise. Blinking proved to be pointless, as all it did was make everything foggier. Then suddenly it wasn't just his eyes that was bothering him when his chest gave a curious jolt. There was a shallow, twisting feeling near his heart like someone was literally tugging and wrenching it about. He wasn't even aware he was falling til his back made contact with the mattress. He heard Ginny scream and tried to call out to her when his vocal chords refused to function. Panicked, he tried to reach out for her but felt nothing but air. When everything began to go dark, an odd feeling of serenity washed over him, and all he could think about was his father, and how right he was. There isn't a tunnel of light, Draco finally agreed, but an endless path of darkness.
Ooooh, I'm evil. >D I was planning on adding more but I'm totally jet-lagged and my mind hasn't left New York yet. Anyhoo, I'm sure everyone's over the OotP shock already, hmm? I must admit; I was highly disappointed with Draco's staticness. Poor Draco! There're only two more books left, if he doesn't show a teensy bit of goodness in the next book, I'm afraid there'll be no more hope! *continues to sob and rant about the injustice of Draco's staticness for seven more hours* @_@; Oh well... There's always fandom, isn't there? ^^
Teribly sorry for the long wait: Joya, Headmaster Cromwell, Eiko, Alila, Madussa, Beth, and Hipogriff11. Thanks for being so patient with me. ^^ You guys rock!
Chapter Seventeen: Draco's past, Blaise's potion, and Ginny's sacrifice.