Title: The Myth of Innocence
Author: Catalina Royce
Disclaimer: These stories are based on characters and situations created
and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made
and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Rating: R
"Dammit, Blaise, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Blaise lowered his book – Criminal Curses – and stared calmly at Draco. Draco's hair was mussed, his expression was cold, and his eyes were flinty. It was obvious by his steely whisper that Draco had been preparing himself for this talk since potions. "Believe it or not, Draco, I'm reading."
Draco glared at him, then down at the sleeping Virginia, whose head was resting on Blaise's thigh. "You know I don't mean that. I mean," he made a furious gesture toward her, "that."
Blaise laid a protective hand on her head, stroking her soft hair. "I'm currently letting her use me as a pillow." There was a certain fondness in his voice. He stared down at her. "Doesn't she look like an angel?"
Draco's eyes flickered from a strange silver-grey, to a darker gunmetal colour. Only Blaise and several close friends knew what that colour meant. Draco was afraid. "What's wrong?"
"You. You haven't sounded like that since Gypsy died. You can't get emotionally involved – in any way – with a Weasley. We need to stay neutral. It's the only way we're going to survive this war. Getting involved with Weasleys is not staying neutral. They're strong supporters of the Resistance."
"I could protect her."
"No. No one can protect us. We can only look after ourselves." Draco ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more. "If we let her join us – if you consort with her – then she will die. Now I hate the Weasleys as much as any Slytherin, if not more so, but I am not going to have her life hanging over my head. So choose, Blaise. Her, or her life."
Blaise thought for a minute. He didn't truly believe that she'd die. She was strong, healthy. And he was completely taken with her. "I choose her. We could bring her in. I've seen the way the Gryffindors treat her. We could make her one of us."
Draco slowly nodded. "Fine. If she agrees. If she doesn't, you know what you have to do."
Blaise nodded, his attentions already back to Virginia. "Doesn't she remind you of Gypsy?" His voice, and expression, showed an almost violent longing. "Not physically, but just...the way she is a spitfire when she's awake, and such an angel asleep..."
Draco sat down on the couch opposite Blaise. All the other Slytherins had gone to sleep, after shooting puzzled glances at the Gryffindor in their midst. They'd said nothing. Pansy was ill and at the infirmary – she was the only troublemaker. He sighed, and leaned in. "I suppose she does, in an odd kind of way. But you have to remember that she isn't your little sister. If she joins, she has to look after herself. Where are you putting her?"
"She can sleep with me." She wasn't his little sister, though. Virginia was healthy. She was alive.
After sending Blaise a sharp look, Draco asked him, "Do you think that's wise?"
"I won't touch her. She is a friend."
The blonde nodded, and flicked a withering glance at the sleeping girl, then walked off to the seventh year boy's dormitory.
Virginia's eyelids wavered between opening and staying closed, much like her state of consciousness. Someone was talking to her. Groaning, she rolled over, encountered warm flesh, buried her head in a pillow, and tried to ignore the insistent voice. When that failed, she began plotting the unseemly demise of this unknown person. Finally, it registered that the warm flesh she'd encountered wasn't hers, and did, in fact, belong to the speaker. The revelation that a bed mate would be rude enough to wake her up gave her enough strength to wrench her head out from underneath the pillow, scream "Fuck off!" and replace the pillow to its former position before going back to sleep.
Unfortunately, this person didn't understand her command, or wishes, and persisted in trying to bring her back to reality. She whimpered, rolled over, and tried to open her eyes. It was so hard. Four nights lack of sleep meant that all her meager energy reserves had been burnt up like floo powder. The back of a hand slapped itself lightly against her cheek, and then lifted her up into a sitting position. "Come on, wake up. Wake up."
"Can't," she slurred, her brain about to shut down by using its 'fainting of exhaustion' method. It had just gotten a taste of relaxation, and it wasn't about to give that up. "Tired. Four nights sleep…none. Leave me alone..."
Blaise sighed, lay her down again and let her go back to sleep. From her scrambled speech, it seemed that she'd not slept for four days. For her, rest was more important than his cause, at least for now.
"Where is she?" It was evident in Draco's tone that he thought Virginia had refused to join their band of renegades.
Blaise moderated his voice, so that his anger over his friend's attitude wouldn't show. "Asleep. Practically passed out from exhaustion when I woke her up."
"Is she sick?"
"Hasn't slept for days. Mumbled something in her sleep to do with a man named Tom, and passages. I'd say she's been investigating the school after this change of hers."
"Change?"
"You didn't know? She went from good girl to right ol' bitch in the space of 24 hours. The entire school is talking about it. Spits on the Ravenclaws, ignores the Hufflepuffs, insults the Gryffindors." When Draco shot him a look of disbelief, he edited his story. "Well, maybe I'm exaggerating just a touch."
"I've never really taken much notice of her. When I did, I never really got past the Weasley hair and freckles."
Blaise sent a shocked glance at Draco. "You've never gotten anywhere near to overcoming prejudices, have you? She doesn't have the Weasley hair and freckles. The Weasley hair is shocking red; hers is almost brown it's so dark. The freckles on her face are non-existent. She's as pale and unblemished as you are."
There was a silence while Draco registered that information. Blaise stared at him with amusement. It appeared that old habits died hard. While Draco was now more open-minded than he used to be, it seemed that where the Weasleys were concerned, his mind was a closed book. Draco shrugged. "She's still a Weasley. I suggest, Blaise, that you stay away from her. Far away. The Weasleys cause trouble, and I wouldn't want her to get hurt."
Blaise's face closed over, eyes hardening. His voice became deadly quiet, and as hard as stone. "Are you threatening her?"
Face impassive, Draco replied. "What gave you that idea? I'm merely warning you." With that, he turned and left the common room.
Virginia sighed and rolled over onto her stomach, eyes opening for the first time in almost 23 hours. Her hand stroked the soft covers, and it registered that these were silk sheets. Green ones, if her eyes didn't deceive her. Obviously, then, she was in a Slytherin bed. Whose bed, though? Vague memories floated through her brain. Snatches of an argument between two males voiced themselves. She sighed and rubbed her face, then climbed out of the bed. There was a mirror on the far side of the room. She padded over, and peered into it. The mirror made a tsking sound. "Just got out of bed, have you? At this hour? Well, aren't we a lazy one." The feminine voice sounded somewhat petulant, and Virginia grimaced as she ran her fingers through her hair. However, it was quite fine and fell to halfway down her back, so she couldn't do much without a brush. She grimaced. Well, at least no one is here to see me.
She straightened the clothes she'd slept in. It was a man's shirt, and the thought of someone changing her without her knowledge was vaguely disquieting, but at least she wasn't in the nude. She chuckled as she imagined Ginny's reaction to this situation, and realized with a pang that Ginny was gone. Although her brain felt freer than it had in years, and she didn't have to fight to be heard, she'd gotten used to the cramped quarters of the mind. Now, it seemed empty. Alone. Her head swam and she slumped against the wall. She was hungry, having not eaten in almost as long as she'd done without sleeping. She looked outside around, realizing the darkness wasn't just the gloominess of the dungeons, but rather, also the coming of night.
Wrinkling her nose, Virginia estimated it was around 6 at night, and therefore it was most likely that the students were at dinner. It was altogether possible for her to leave without being noticed. The question was, did she really want to go back to the Gryffindors? The answer was unequivocally no. So decided, she made her way down to the common room and sat in a very comfortable armchair. She was just dosing off again as the students entered the quarters. They stared at her, then turned and sat down in their places, some of them muttering among themselves. From the trifles of conversations she heard, it seemed she'd taken someone's chair. Too bad. I honestly don't care.
A petite blonde walked in, stopped, and stared maliciously. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the littlest Weasel," Pansy drawled, shooting looks around the room. Everyone silenced himself or herself; despite their natures, they were Slytherins, and a patriotic impulse led them to gleefully await the slaughter of a non-Slytherin.
"Pansy." Virginia nodded calmly, then paused as if thinking. "The little flower. I say, do you suppose your parents called you that as an attempt at irony?"
Apparently, she knew what that meant, and anger – an ugly look on her – flashed across her face. "I suppose they called you Virginia because they knew you'd stay one forever."
The redhead smiled. "If we follow that train of thought, they called me Arnica because I'm poisonous. And that can't be true. You aren't dead yet, much to my dismay."
Pansy snarled and started forward to attack the younger woman, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. It was long, elegant and graceful, yet lacked the maturity that Snape's hands held. Draco stood behind Pansy, sneering at Virginia. She looked back, and practically purred, her claws sheathed for now. Draco smiled down at her. He measured 6'2, and so Pansy, with a 5'4 frame, didn't even reach his shoulder. "Hello Weasel. Aren't you in the wrong house?"
"Actually, I think I'm finally in the right house."
At that point, Blaise Zabini entered, holding a plate of food. He flicked a glance at Draco, who raised an eyebrow and retreated to a nearby couch; where he pulled Pansy down to sit with him.
"I thought you might be hungry."
She sent one last vicious glare towards Malfoy, and then turned to smile up at Blaise. "You shouldn't have. But I'm glad you did."
She swallowed the food bite by tiny bite, forcing herself to eat in moderation. It wouldn't do for her to scoff down her food, and then throw it all up in front of the Slytherins. She had to have their respect, or she'd never be able to join them. The tastes were heavenly to her starved body, and she delighted in the taste of the lamb cutlets, mashed potatoes and vegetables.
Even the occasional outburst from Pansy didn't discourage her.
When she'd finished, Blaise gestured to her. She set aside her plate and followed him to his bedroom. It dawned on her that she'd slept in his bed last night. "I want to talk to you about something," he was saying.
She nodded. "Good. I would also like to talk to you about something."
He was obviously nervous, because he gestured for her to go ahead. He didn't want to say what he had to say. "Go on."
She nodded and composed her thoughts. It was hard, considering that all of a sudden, she'd remembered she was in his shirt, and practically naked beneath that. "Are you a Death Eater?" She shook her head, and then mumbled, "You're a Slytherin, and of course you're a Death Eater." She didn't give him a chance to say that he was, however unwilling. "I wish to see Voldemort. Not just that, I wish to join the Death Eaters."
He stared at her, flabbergasted. "Why?"
"Partly because I want to hurt the three nitwits as revenge for something they did to...my friend, but also because I want power. Voldemort will die soon, and if I can ingratiate myself into the fold before then, I can become their next leader. Tom will welcome me, I know it. And so, I come to you."
She stared it him intently, never once breaking eye contact. She was surprised, however, that there seemed to be a flicker of pain in his gaze. Finally, he agreed, replying coldly, "Certainly. I will take you to the next gathering.
She yawned widely. "I think it is time for me to sleep."
He watched her climb into his bed, then stroked a lock of hair away form her face. "Goodnight." He stood there timelessly, finally shedding a tear at what he'd thought he'd found. It seemed that fate still wanted to play tricks on him.
"So?" Draco asked once everyone had left the common room. "Did she agree?"
"No," Blaise replied bitterly, staring into the roaring fire. "I never got a chance to ask her. She asked me, very politely, if I could help her join the Death Eaters."
Author's Note: Arnica – Virginia's middle name – is a poisonous herb. It's used to treat wounds and bruises where the skin is not broken. It relieves swelling and bruising. However, it cannot be taken internally, although it won't kill without you taking a lot of it. It bears daisy like yellow orange flowers throughout the summer, and produces pairs of oval, hairy leaves at the base of the plant.