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
"We've saved her." Ron cut in, indignant. "She was possessed."
"You've DESTROYED her."
"Like hell we have! She was being possessed!"
"So? WHO ARE YOU TO DECIDE WHO LIVES AND DIES?" Blaise's angry roar cut through the group. Hermione, ever practical, cast a silencing charm on the room, locking the door so Madame Pomfrey couldn't come bustling in at an inopportune moment.
Draco stood up. "SHE'S NOT DEAD." He roared.
"Oh," Blaise said in a knife-edge tone. "Really? Then why isn't she awake? Why is she lying in that bed, looking like she's about to die any second?"
Blaise's description was horribly accurate.
The entire group froze. Before this incident, they had always been thorough. They had always known, deep down, that what they were doing was exactly right. And now the trio were swamped with a paralysing doubt.
They reacted the only way they could.
"We had to do it. She was being possessed."
"She could have died, Blaise." Hermione's voice implored him for reassurance.
He gave them none. "She could still die. Fucking Gryffindors. Idiots. You never think things through, do you?" He sighed wearily. "I should have expected no less. And you," he sneered at Draco. "I would have expected better of you." He cut short their protests. "God, why can't any of you ever accept that you're wrong? You all walk around acting like you know everything, but you don't! High and mighty, never wrong! Well this time you are."
"She's alive, Blaise. Our Virginia. You should be thanking us." Draco's announcement was said bolder than he felt.
"For what? For destroying yet another sister of mine?" Blaise took a few deep breaths. "If what you say it true – if you really did save her – I will be the first to thank you, you know that. However, at the moment, all I see is a little girl who was betrayed by those she loved. A little girl who has yet to wake up. And I can't forgive you all for that, yet. I just can't." Blaise turned and started to leave.
"Blaise!" Draco called at his retreating back. "She's alive. She'll wake up. I can feel it."
Blaise paused in midstep. Without turning around, he replied. "I'm glad you can, Draco. Because I can't. Our Virginia is gone."
She hadn't woken up. Three weeks, and she hadn't woken up. Blaise still hadn't spoken to him, and the Trio were barely seen these days. All of them were racked by the guilt they faced.
They'd taken a chance, and they'd lost. They'd paid the forfeit, were still paying. The Weasley parents wouldn't speak to their son, their eyes reflecting a hidden anger from within their disappointment and grief. Mrs. Weasley had gone mute with grief for two days, while Mr. Weasley has simply cried.
Draco had yet to cry. He couldn't believe in his heart that she was gone, not when she lay there so peacefully undisturbed. She needed time, was all. She had to know it was safe. Had to know that she needed to wake up and love them all again.
Sooner or later she would realise that, and then she'd wake up.
He had to believe that.
This was a test of faith. He had to believe in her, had to ignore the hatred coming from the Weasleys, the animosity radiating from Blaise, had to ignore the contempt from the Gryffindors and the cold shoulders from the Slytherins. He had to ignore Snape's nastiness. Most importantly, he had to ignore his own despair and just believe. She would wake up, and then she would know that he had waited for her and her alone.
And then they would be together – properly together. They would have time to linger over their love. She just had to wake up.
His head sank down to rest in his hands, and Draco felt another cold wave of despair rolling over him. She would wake up, he told himself, of course she would wake up.
Was she climbing, or just floating? The sliver of logic that still existed in the dark place noted that it was lighter here. Had she risen? Why would she rise? Virginia was there, wasn't she? Virginia would have kept her down, like a comforting blanket of warmth to keep her safe from the world. She floated higher, further away from the dark place, and the lack of warmth – the absence of Virginia – made her consciousness wake up with a rush. Slowly and with a certainty that only emphasised her fear, she searched around for any trace of the soul that had lived there with her for so long.
Nothing.
Slowly, so as not to shock her body, she made the climb towards herself. She slipped into place with all the ease of sliding into a warm bath, and then allowed her already exhausted mind to rest. She needed time before she faced the world again.
Draco looked at the precious little redhead sleeping in the bed. One long finger stroked her hand, and he bit his lip, ignoring the guilt that was pressing down upon him.
For a second, there seemed to be a infinitesimal pause, then Virginia sighed. He stared for a second. Leaning down, he positioned his ear just near her mouth, listening intently. He shot bolt upright; her breathing pattern had changed, had grown less restive and more alive. Virginia was alive! He let out a cry of triumph, and the sound jerked the sleeping girl awake.
Joy rushed through him, engulfing him so completely that is washed away the guilt and pain of the last few weeks. He leant over next to her, kissing her gently, his hands running up and down her throat, hesitating at her pulse, reassuring himself that she was there. She was alive.
Her hands came up, hands resting on his chest, and he knew, he just knew that she was going to kiss him back. Any second, she would... Her hands shoved at him. Hit him. Her fingernails sank into his chest and her legs were kicking out, trying to find something, anything to hit. He let got of her and sat back, his face a confused mask.
"Oh God, Malfoy," she sobbed. "Oh, God, please don't hurt me. Please." Tears were running down her cheeks, and Draco felt himself turn to stone. The girl was staring up at him with pure terror, not the scorn or humour that resided in Virginia's eyes.
"Ginny?" Draco asked, thunderstruck. Throughout the entire ordeal, he had never, ever thought about Ginny, the original inhabitant of the body. He felt all his joy wash away again, to be replaced by a bleak despair. Virginia had told him that if Ginny were present, then Virginia would be gone...because Ginny had voluntarily become dormant.
Ginny was sobbing with fear, her breath coming in short and fast gasps. Draco knew it wouldn't be long before Madame Pomfrey would burst in. He had to shut her up now. He clamped a hand over her mouth. "Listen to me," he whispered. "I won't hurt you. I just want to explain something. If I let you go, do you promise on your status as a witch not to scream?"
She nodded slowly, eyes wide. Draco could felt her hot tears dripping down onto his hand, and all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms and comfort her. He slowly removed his hand, staring into her baby-doe brown eyes. He couldn't see it. When it had been Adaline, he could see the difference, but now? He couldn't say that it wasn't Virginia.
And that killed him.
"I'm a friend of Virginia's. I...I need to know. Is she there?" He was more that a friend, dammit. He loved her.
She took a long time before speaking, and then her eyes were wide with fear. "I'm sorry Draco," she whispered, hot tears ones again spilling down her face, this time with loss. "She's not here. No one is here but me."
He nodded slowly, strangely calm despite his inner emotions. "Thank you, Ginny."
He walked out, meeting Madame Pomfrey along the way. "She's awake," he said in a slightly shaking voice.
"Are you okay, Mr. Malfoy?"
Without answering, he turned and walked out.
She continued life as if nothing had happened. After two weeks of exhausting tests, Madame Pomfrey allowed Ginny to leave the Hospital Wing and return to her Gryffindor quarters. She did, reluctantly, unready to face the barrage of questions and negative attention that was given to her by her housemates.
Two days later, she arranged a meeting that lunchtime with Professor McGonagall, to discuss her career options and her life at the present moment.
Professor McGonagall looked at her sternly, peering over her glasses at the youngest Weasley. "I understand that you wish to discuss something with me, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny nodded slowly, almost wishing that she were back in the dark place. She didn't like it. She didn't like the attention that she got from the other students, didn't like the way they made her felt like she had done something wrong. She didn't like apologising for Virginia's actions, and she didn't like the nasty looks she got from the Seventh Year Gryffindors during Potions. She no longer struggled in Potions, true; it seemed the Virginia's memory had somehow become hers, because she understood everything Snape was talking about. However, generally, Ginny just wanted to be left alone by the outside world, to try to come to grips with the loss of Virginia.
"Yes, Professor. I no longer feel capable of continuing with Seventh Year Potions, and as such feel it would be wise of me to remove myself from the class." She'd rehearsed that line for half an hour, and it came out so smoothly. She'd never been able to lie before now. Perhaps Virginia had rubbed off on her.
Professor McGonagall set down her pen and took off her glasses. "I must ask, Miss Weasley, if perhaps there is not another reason for wishing to leave Professor Snape's Potion's class. Recent rumours seem to have had a large amount to do with your relationship with a certain Slytherin, and I wonder if perhaps that is the reason for your lack of self-confidence?"
A blush flamed up through Ginny's cheeks, and she knew by the heat on her chest it had run down there, too. For a second she cursed her complexion, but at least her clothes covered her blush. "No Professor," she replied with a calm that belied her inner turmoil. How many people knew? "I simply feel that it would be best for me to continue in a class with my fellow year-mates."
McGonagall looked at her sternly. "Very well, Miss Weasley. I shall see to the arrangements."
Ginny nodded and made her way to the Great Hall, sitting down next to the Trio. Two pairs of Slytherin eyes watched her. One with venom, the other with grief. Ginny glanced up at them both, uncomfortably aware of their stares. A second later, she bit her lip and her eyes returned to her plate. She picked up her fork and started to smoosh her peas with her fork in a familiar gesture that made Draco ache with pain.
Draco watched as Blaise's face tightened with anger. He sighed slightly. Draco hadn't been the only one watching Ginny the past few days. Blaise had too, only with each passing day, Blaise's anger got more intense. He and Draco hadn't spoken about it – rarely spoke about anything anymore. The entire ordeal with Virginia had severed their friendship more resolutely than if a huge knife had sliced it through the middle. As such, Draco was completely in the dark as to why Blaise was so angry.
Draco had been watching her, though. He'd watched her eat, watched her during Potions when she shied away from his touch and withered under the glare from the Gryffindors. He'd memorised the way she spoke – on the rare occasions that she did. And the entire time, he had to remind himself that it wasn't Virginia, that Virginia was gone.
She moved just like Virginia. Her mannerisms, while admittedly a lot more subdued than Virginia's, were almost identical in type and expression. Sometimes he forgot who she really was. Sometimes in Potions he started to touch her hand in affection, or to tease her like he used to. And then he'd remember and pull himself back, devastatingly aware of just how much he had lost.
He wasn't the only one contemplating their loss. Blaise sat next to him, a frown sculpting itself into his face. He'd been watching Ginny for the past two days. Before that she'd been in the Hospital Wing. He, however, had no difficulty differentiating between the two, and the way Ginny acted had made him angry.
What made him angrier was that Draco was a complete wreck, and it was all Miss Weasley's fault.
Speaking of whom...Blaise watched as Draco abruptly pushed out his chair and left the Great Hall. Concerned, but not willing to try to face Draco's vengeful emotions – Draco hated being emotional, and tended to lash out when he was – Blaise simply let him walk away. He returned his gaze to the smallest Weasley.
Once again she looked up at him. Her eyes were pleading with him; his were implacable. She was the first to break the connection; her long lashes slowly sinking to cover her eyes in the time-honoured defensive expression.
God, how much Blaise hated her meek, submissive attitude. She was nothing like Virginia. Virginia was strong and wilful; she took what she wanted and gave as good as she got. She was feminine and relied on people – trusted them with her problems and loved them unconditionally. She was harsh and fair, and she loved to rile others. Ginny was weak and passive; never leaning on anyone, never trusting them. She shied away from everyone – including her family – and she never fully gave herself in fear she would be hurt. She liked to remain passive, hated arguments, and couldn't stand criticism. They were as different as night and day, and at the same time he still held some affection for her. He hated her even more for that.
Angry with himself, Blaise left the Great Hall with long, stalking strides. He was going to talk to Draco, going to get them both some sort of closure. And as for Draco's tendency to lash out when he was feeling vulnerable? Well, Blaise was in the mood for a fight.
He encountered no one on his walk back to the Slytherin rooms. What he found when he got there, however, was incredibly surprising. The common room looked like a bomb had hit it. And in the centre of the debris sat Draco, his face in his hands, shoulders hunched and his back rocking from repressed tears.
Immediately, Blaise's anger left. He sat next to Draco and took him in his arms as if he were a child. Fuck the macho rules, Blaise barked inside his mind. Cradling him gently, Blaise started whispering useless phrases as if they really meant something. The idiocy didn't matter, though. It was the tone that mattered to Draco.
Dear God, Blaise had never seen Draco so utterly...was there even a word for the depth of emotion Draco was feeling?
Still crying, the blonde boy whispered to Blaise in a wretched tone; confessed the deepest pain within his heart. "I still love her, Blaise. She's gone, and I still love her!"
Heart almost breaking, Blaise took in the proud boy that had finally succumbed to grief. Then Draco looked Blaise in the eye, and the despair there was terrifying.
Author's Note: This chapter was really hard for me to write. That's pretty much all I have to say for this chapter. Props to Nicole, my beta reader, for reassuring me that this wasn't a terrible chapter. I actually came up with the title this time. And thanks to the readers, especially those that review. Your input is wonderful.