Here is the only one-shot I have ever written (and, hence, the only fic I have ever completed). Enjoy!
Disclaimer—Everything is JKR's, except the OOCness and the plot.
The Pitfalls of Sacrifice
She stood completely still save for the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for air. Her arm was extended, her wand pointed straight towards the man lying on the floor in front of her. What had she done? She had no idea; at the moment she was having a hard time recalling anything of the past hour of her life.
"Ginny," a voice said gently and she whirled around, terrified and guilty. But it was only Draco. The emotionless mask he usually shaped his face into was gone; he looked worried.
"I-I…" she couldn't even begin to form a sentence, and she began hyperventilating. Draco reached out a hand and slowly lowered her arm, then gripped her shoulders firmly to help her control her shaking.
"Ginny, breathe," he implored. "C'mon, breathe. Shh." Eventually she calmed down and he tried to take her in his arms but she jumped around. Blaise Zabini lay there still, and she shut her eyes. It was too awful to look at. "I'm going to go look at him—stay calm." She nodded, keeping her eyes clenched, and felt him move away, heard him kneel by Blaise's body. There was silence for a few moments, and she opened her eyes as she felt him standing next to her. His pale face was almost white. "What happened?" he asked in a low, empty voice. She shook her head.
"I don't know," she whispered. " I don't know, I don't know. He—he—" she was breathing dangerously again, and Draco grabbed her wrist.
"Stop it. Tell me what happened." The fierceness of his voice spurred her back into coherency, and she related the entire incident. By the time she had finished Draco's face had schooled itself into that iron mask again; only his pressed-together lips betrayed his despair.
But 'betrayed' was a word Ginny couldn't bear to think about.
"Alright, listen. Here's what we'll do." He worked out an entire plan—they would Transfigure the body into a rock and then toss it to the bottom of the river. In a couple of days they would report his disappearance, and would behave as the worried friends they ought to be.
They never got the chance.
Before Draco could even draw his wand someone was pounding at the front door, and they heard voices from the back entrance as well. Ginny could feel the unwilling tears sliding down her face.
"Azkaban, then," she uttered, and her wand clattered to the floor.
"No," he hissed, grabbing her upper arm. "You can't—we'll tell them I did it."
"Are you mad!" she demanded, shocked out of her stupor. "Shut up!"
Meanwhile the pounding at the doors grew louder. "This is the M.L.E.S! Mr. Malfoy, we'd like to have a word with you!" Ginny was surprised that they had called his name—why? In a split second she realized what they must have assumed, and a glance at Draco's face told her he understood, too. She could see, through his eyes, something in his mind solidifying.
"No," she said weakly, not quite knowing what she was protesting. But before she could do a thing he had shoved her, hard, in a direction away from Blaise; he snatched Blaise's wand from the body, aimed it at her, and ignoring her shaking head, said softly, "Stupefy!"
Ginny slowly opened her eyes. A wand was pointed directly at her—Draco?
But no, she saw it wasn't him; a mediwizard and mediwitch stood over her, and she was lying on the floor.
"Miss Weasley, how do you feel?"
"What?" she cried, moving to sit up. Someone held her down; she looked left and saw Remus Lupin, dressed in his Auror robes and looking very grim.
"Stay still, Ginny, we want to make sure you've nothing damaged." Inexplicably, she burst into tears.
"I-I've—I've n-nothing—I'm f-fine—what's going on?"
"We've taken Draco into custody," Remus said heavily. "He killed the young Zabini, the one who attacked you."
"No!" She screamed, with all her might, struggling to sit up against Remus' hands. "No—"
"Help me here!" he said, and the mediwitch and wizard knelt down to hold her, too.
"Stop it! Let me go! Draco didn't kill anyone!"
"Do something to calm her, would you!"
"Get off me! Draco wasn't even here! I—"
"Pacify," the mediwitch aimed her wand at Ginny, and everything went black for the second time that night.
When she woke up she knew immediately she was in St. Mungo's. She also realized that she was strapped to the bed. No use squirming; these were magical bonds.
"Ginny!" a relieved voice cried, and she turned her head to see Ron hurrying towards her. "You're awake!"
"How long has it been? Where's Draco? You've got to let me out of this, Ron—"
"Hey, Gin, calm down. Please, I'll tell you everything if you just relax—"
"You don't know everything, Ron, so how can you tell it to me? Now where is Draco?"
"Ginny…he's in Azkaban." Ginny felt her entire body go cold, and she let out one huge, uncontrollable shiver. "Are you alright?"
"No, no, Ron, you've got to listen to me—Draco didn't do it. I killed Blaise."
"Gin. Come on. I know you love Malfoy, but—"
"I'm not covering for him! You've got to believe me! Draco covered for me!"
"And why didn't you say this last night?"
"I did! I tried to, but they put me under!"
"Remus said they put you under because you were screaming for Malfoy, not because you were proclaiming your guilt."
"Ron, please," she begged, and now she was crying again. "You've got to listen to me—I killed him, I killed Blaise." But Ron only looked nervous and uncomfortable.
"Gin, I'm going to call the nurse—"
"No! They'll Pacify me again—Ron, PLEASE, if you love me then listen to me! You've got to get me to see the Aurors. Please."
"Not if you're going to tell them that barmy story." Ginny stuffed her fist in her mouth and bit, hard, to stifle the scream she felt coming on. She only stopped biting when she tasted blood. She was falling apart. "That's it, I'm getting the nurse."
"No, no, please, no," she moaned helplessly, tears still flowing. But Ron was gone. In a minute the mediwitch came in.
"Now, now, Ginny, dear. Your brother tells me you've been upsetting yourself again. What's wrong?" She took Ginny's wrist as she spoke and counted her pulse. Her touch was vaguely familiar.
"D-do I kn-know you?" she hiccupped through tears. The witch smiled.
"Yes, dear. I was here nine years ago, the first time you came to St. Mungo's." Ginny began shaking even harder—this had been her nurse back when she was recovering from Tom's possession. She had never wanted to think about that period in her life, and here standing next to her was one huge reminder. Just to add to the nightmare of this all.
"But—wait—if you knew me th-then, you kn-know what I'm capab-ble of. Please, l-listen. I killed B-Blaise Zabini. It w-wasn't Draco, it was me!" The nurse's eyes seemed to soften and harden at the same time.
"Oh, yes, just like you Petrified those students years ago. Did that Malfoy tell you to say this?"
"No! No, I'm guilty—"
"The only thing you're guilty of, dear, is making poor choices in whom you befriend. And then blaming yourself for what they do—"
"No, no—"
"Hush now, dear. Pacify."
It was a week later when Ginny finally got out of St. Mungo's. Her parents escorted her to the office to get her things.
"Where's my wand?" she asked the hospital worker. He checked the list of her belongings.
"No wand brought in."
"What do you mean? It was lying on the floor near me in my house. Don't mediwizards usually bring in a person's wand?"
"Ye-es," the man said, "but it's not on the list."
"Gin," her father said before she could get angry. "The Aurors might have taken it if it was lying near Blaise." Ginny shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the image of Blaise's dead body. She nodded. "Let's go, sweetheart."
But when they got to the Burrow Ginny seized upon the first moment her parents left her alone, raced to the fireplace, tossed in some Floo Powder, and said clearly "Ministry of Magic." The twisting of floo travel made her feel nauseated and dizzy, as she hadn't been eating or exercising much. When she reached the Ministry she stumbled out of the fire and fell to the floor.
"Are you alright?" some worried wizards asked, helping her up.
"Is that Ginevra Weasley!" one exclaimed, and Ginny hurried off to the lifts. She took it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Once there, though, she hesitated. The problem was she knew most of the Aurors. She had to find someone who wouldn't already be prejudiced by the belief that Draco was more likely to kill someone than she, innocent little Ginny Weasley.
She peeked into the Auror Headquarters and read the listing of employees on the wall. She found a couple of names she hadn't ever heard her father mention, and located one of the cubicles. A short man with blonde hair—nowhere near as pale as Draco's—sat at the desk scribbling furiously. Ginny knocked tentatively on the wall and he looked up with a frown. He looked at her curiously.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, please," she said in a soft voice, going further into the cubicle.
"Please, sit down." He flicked his wand and Conjured a chair, in which Ginny sat and clasped her hands. "You look familiar," he said hesitantly, and she nodded.
"Mr. Macarthur, my name is Ginevra Weasley and I've come to confess to a crime." He jumped in his seat twice in surprise; first at her name and then at her statement.
"Erm—ah, alright. Er, go ahead." He had set his wand to record.
"I assume you know my name from Draco Malfoy's recent trial?" He nodded. "Mr. Macarthur, he's innocent. I killed Blaise Zabini." His eyes widened in shock.
"But—but why? No—wait—Draco Malfoy confessed to the crime. What are you on about?"
"Listen to me very carefully, please. I will tell you exactly what happened that night, up to the moment I was Stunned."
"Alright—but hang on, let me get the file for this case. I believe Kingsley headed it up—"
"Shacklebolt?" she demanded.
"Yes. Why?"
"Don't you bring him or anyone else over here. I'm confessing to you alone or I'm not doing it at all." Kingsley would never let her get a word out. He'd floo her parents and send her straight home.
"A-alright, wait right here, I'll be right back." He disappeared for a few moments and came back with a rather thin file.
'That's it?"
"Well, it was—or rather, we thought it was an open and shut case. So, go ahead, tell me what happened that night."
"I was at home by myself. Draco, if I recall correctly, was off meeting with Harry. Potter, that is."
"Yes, that's what it says here. Go on."
"I was home alone, and Blaise stopped by. I thought he was there to visit, but he wasn't. He was there to brag, and to get me." Here her voice hardened, and she felt her eyes glaze over. "He had found out something about Draco—oh," she snapped out of her trance, "I can't tell you. I'll tell Kingsley, if it comes to that, but just know that Blaise came and told me he had found out about Draco and was going to tell—well, the person he was going to tell would have killed Draco. He told me Draco was going down and then he asked me to run off with him. Blaise…he always loved me, any one of our friends can tell you that." Her voice began shaking, but she took a deep breath, hardened her heart, and went on. "He said that if I didn't go with him, I'd go down with Draco. I—I had to kill him." The tears came, now, and she didn't even bother trying to stop them. "They would've come after Draco, and all we had worked for would have been ruined. I—I told Blaise I would never go with him, and I drew my wand and he drew his, only I got him first, with a slashing hex—b-but it hit his chest, and his heart, and….oh," her sobs overcame her now, and she gratefully noticed that Mr. Macarthur cast silencing charms around his cubicle. "I d-don't know h-how long I stood there, just in shock, but Draco came home at some point and then the Aurors arrived, and he said he would take the blame for the crime and I told him not to even think about it, b-but then he shoved me and Stupefied me. When I woke up no one would listen to me and they all kept me in St. Mungo's f-for a week, while Draco went to Azkaban!" Reliving the entire story had her crying for a few minutes more, while Mr. Macarthur took her hand and patted it comfortingly.
As soon as she could she swallowed the sobs and wiped her face—he handed her a handkerchief—and sat up tall, to look at him again.
"I'm so sorry, but don't you see? Draco shouldn't have to suffer for what I did. He's innocent."
"Well," he said, rubbing his hair dazedly. "Well, now we've got two confessions for this crime, and I'm afraid I don't know what to think. We never doubted Mr. Malfoy's story, you see. There was no need for a trial—"
"What? You sent him to jail without a trial! No wonder! You've got to look at the evidence!"
"Well, Mr. Malfoy didn't want a trial, you see. He made a deal with the prosecutor, and that was it. Twelve years in Azkaban. It wasn't any worse because he was defending you, or so we thought, and because he hadn't actually used an Unforgivable."
"Of course he didn't want a trial, damn it! If you Aurors had actually investigated you would have seen that his story can't hold up!"
"Actually, Miss Weasley, from what we could tell, it did. Have a look." He opened the case file and showed her some of the general facts—Ginny being stunned on the floor, by Blaise's wand, the appearance of a struggle in the general area of the bodies, and Draco's wand having cast the Slashing spell.
"That's impossible," Ginny hissed immediately, jumping up. "Impossible! I used my own wand to do it! That's ridiculous. Where was Draco's wand?"
"Well, the one that cast the hex was lying on the floor—"
"Argh! Let me see the description of the wand." The flipped to the last page, and there, listed as the murder weapon, was a ten inch maple dragon's heartstring wand, identified by the owner, one Draco Malfoy. "That's MY wand!" Ginny screeched. "He lied! It's mine!"
"A ten inch wand? If you don't mind my saying so, that seems a bit long for someone of your stature. Usually wands are somewhat proportional—"
"Oh, shut up, I know that! Mr. Ollivander mentioned how unusual it was when I bought the damn thing. But it's my wand."
"Miss Weasley, it was the only wand found on Mr. Malfoy. If he had just Apparated home, then where was his?"
"I don't know! He must have destroyed it. And I never said he Apparated."
"It's rather difficult to destroy a wand, you must know—"
"I don't know how he did it, but he did! Unless…did the Aurors search the house?"
"They did a routine crime scene investigation, of course. If he had hidden it in the time between stunning you and answering the door, they should have been able to find it." Ginny growled in frustration, then suddenly slapped the desk in excitement.
"Wait! Of course! Mr. Ollivander!"
"What's that?"
"Didn't you buy your wand from him? Don't you know that he remembers every wand he's ever sold? I'm sure he'll remember me, as my wand is so unique!"
"If you can get Ollivander's testimony that the wand belongs to you, that would help in proving your story. But Miss Weasley, if you don't mind, I'd like to go with you. I'll be honest with you, I'm not convinced you're not doing this just to help your boyfriend."
"I'm not. I'm going to see Ollivander this instant. Come if you want." She put on her cloak again, and he picked up his wand and nodded.
"Yes, let's go."
They flooed to Diagon Alley and Ginny raced out of the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Macarthur speed-walking beside her to keep up. Just as they reached the door of Ollivander's, however, Ginny saw a familiar back walking away down the street.
"Pansy!" she called, running to catch up to her friend. "Pansy!" Pansy Parkinson turned around and smiled rather weakly as Ginny walked up.
"Oh, Ginny, it's so awful," she said sympathetically, giving the woman a hug. Ginny bore it for a moment but was too worked up to do so for long.
"No, Pansy, don't worry. I'm going to get Draco's name cleared—he didn't do it."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Pansy asked in extreme shock. "He confessed! Draco confessed!"
"He did it to cover up for me. I killed Blaise, Pansy, I'm so sorry. It was in defense of Draco, though."
"Ginny, don't say such a thing! What if someone takes you seriously? We all want to help Draco, but—"
"Look, I don't have time for this. I've got an Auror waiting for me; I'm bringing him to Ollivander's so I can prove it."
"What!" Pansy cried, sounding rather dismayed. "Ginny, you can't! What would Draco think—"
"Pansy, I've got to go. I'll stop by to see you later tonight, alright? I've got to go." With that she ran back to Ollivander's and, nodding at Mr. Macarthur they entered the store together. It was thankfully empty, and Mr. Ollivander stood at the front desk, gazing off into space rather dazedly. He looked very surprised to see her.
"Why, hello, Miss…Weasley, is it?" he asked in that eery voice of his. Ginny nodded and stepped forward.
"Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I've come to ask of you a favor. I've brought someone with me who needs you to verify what kind of wand I bought from you." Mr. Ollivander looked keenly at Mr. Macarthur, then back at her. He nodded.
"Yes, of course I remember, my dear. It was an eight-inch ash wand, dragon heartstring, flexible and good for—"
"WHAT? Mr. Ollivander!" But Mr. Macarthur stepped forward and cut her off.
"Look, Miss Weasley, I don't know just what you're trying to pull—"
"No, no! Mr. Ollivander, try to remember! I bought a maple wand." He shook his head in confusion.
"Not at all. Not from me, anyhow." Ginny nearly screamed in outrage, and saw Mr. Macarthur glance at his watch in annoyance. At that moment she realized precisely what had happened.
"Don't you go anywhere, Mr. Macarthur," she growled fiercely. "I know what's going on here—Mr. Ollivander, I hope you know you're doing the wrong thing. I will be right back." She raced out of the store. Pansy couldn't be far—no, there she was, on the far end of the alley. "PANSY!" Ginny screamed, loud enough for everyone on the street to stop and gawk at her. Pansy turned around and when she saw her, took a step back. Ginny ran to meet her. "How dare you!" she cried, shoving the woman. "What did you tell him? What did you tell Ollivander!"
"Ginny, you're making a scene—"
"I don't care! Did Draco tell you to do this? Is that what—" But Pansy grabbed her arm and dragged her forcibly into a nearby alleyway.
"Keep your damn voice down, Ginny," she said angrily. "I didn't just obstruct justice to have you announce it to the whole world."
"You did do it! You told Ollivander to lie about my wand!"
"Of course, and you should be thanking me. Draco told me you would try something like this, to try and clear him."
"But Pansy, Draco doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban! He didn't kill anyone!"
"If Draco doesn't care," she said simply, "then neither do I. Draco wants to protect you, so I'm going to help him, in spite of you. And that's that."
"But…Pansy. He'll suffer."
"I gave you my answer, Ginny. I won't help you, and neither will Mr. Ollivander. He likes you much more than he liked Draco, and once I explained the situation…well, he was hardly reluctant. We care for you, Ginny, don't you see?"
That was it, then. No one would believe her, and no one would back her up. She shook her head, tears falling again, and turned her back on Pansy. She slowly made her way back to Ollivander's, where Mr. Macarthur was waiting for her outside.
"Mr. Macarthur, I don't know what to tell you. I've given you what information I could."
"What do you mean? Where did you run off to?"
"Pansy Parkinson. We saw her right before entering, remember? She told Ollivander to lie. Draco told her to do it. It's over. I don't know how else to prove it to you."
"This has been a thorough waste of my time. Next time you feel like lying to protect someone you love, Miss Weasley…don't." And with that, he Disapparated. Ginny fell to the ground, crying. Twelve years in Azkaban that should have been hers. She didn't deserve this. Neither did he. But she would wait for him.
Twelve years later
A significantly older Ginny, thinner, with shorter hair and a tired-looking face, stood completely still save for the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for air. She was nervous beyond all imagination, having no idea what this moment would hold for her. In a few minutes her Draco would be led down that hallway, past the cells in the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic building, to see daylight shining through these tall windows for the first time in twelve years.
During his entire sentence Ginny had tortured herself imagining what he was going through; reliving his worst memories at the hands of the Dementors, perhaps facing near-starvation, lying all day in a tiny, dirty, empty cell. However she imagined it, though, she knew it must be a thousand times worse. It was unfathomable. And he had done it for her, for the love of her.
So much had happened in those twelve years—Voldemort had fallen about a year after Draco's imprisonment, and then followed a few years of hunting down all the Death Eaters; a time of extreme paranoia that neared what Ginny had studied of witch-hunting crazes in Muggle history. Old enemies accused one another, people were detained with little cause, protests were constantly staged in Diagon Alley, half of the true Death Eaters claimed they were under the Imperius curse… and on it went.
It died down, however, as things tend to do. Life regained a somewhat normal pace; some of Ginny's friends and family married, started families, new careers, moved. For her, however, nothing changed. She stayed in her house and waited for the day when she would devote herself to spending the rest of her life to repaying Draco for his love. She figured he would be different after all those years locked away, but her love would remain strong. She would stand by him and help him get better; she would give him everything she had. As he had given her.
She heard footsteps from the end of the hallway, and gripping her hands nervously, strained her eyes to see into the darkness. She couldn't see him yet, but the sounds grew louder, and she heard the clanking of a chain. Her whole body began to tremble…he was coming back to her, he was free, finally. Behind her she knew Pansy Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy waited as anxiously as she did, but she would be first, he would see her first and know that he had her gratitude…no, much more than that. He had her entire soul, for what he had done.
Always she had wondered if she should have tried harder, if she shouldn't have given up after Pansy's interference. Might there have been another way? But what could she have done? Everything had seemed stacked completely against her; there was evidence, and no one wanted to believe she had done anything, anyway. So she had gone home to her parents and her family, and they were soon relieved that she had stopped her raving about Draco's innocence. They thought it meant she had gotten better. But she had never been sick.
Ginny's heart leapt into her throat—there he was, it was him, she knew it immediately! His hair was about a foot longer than before and he had a huge beard and mustache; he was dirty and skinny and weak; his eyes looked down at the floor and his hands were bound in front of him. But it was Draco. He and the three guards around him drew closer, too slowly for her and she tried to rush forward, but another guard held her back.
"Not yet, miss," he said gruffly, and she stayed where she was as they walked forward. The light from the windows hit Draco, first his feet and then it slowly rose, shrinking the shadow as it climbed to his knees, his waist, his chest, his neck…the light hit his face and the shadow was gone; he looked up towards the windows and squinted. His mouth fell open and he took a huge breath.
"Draco!" Ginny cried earnestly, unable to help herself. But he didn't look over; the guards were unlocking the chains around his hands and feet, they had him signing some scrolls (his hand shook horribly as he held the quill and Ginny wanted to hold him, squeeze him tight and never let him shake like that again), and then were stuffing the clothing he had entered the prison with in his hands; clothing that surely would be several sizes too big now.
He was free to go. Grabbing his clothes in both hands he turned in the direction of the women who were waiting for him and walked towards the low gate that separated them. Ginny was nearly screaming with impatient joy—she had him again! She waited, ready to explode, for him to look up at her, to acknowledge her and look in her eyes and reassure her that he loved her still—
Draco looked up, then, right as he entered the gate, and Ginny just barely held back her tears and worked up a smile for him. His gaze reached her eye-level, and she cried his name once more, unsteadily. This was it, this was it, but she had to control herself, she had to be strong for him, had to.
His eyes met hers, finally, but what she found there was not affection or recognition—only an expression of unshakable loathing. Ginny saw in his grey, dead eyes all the pain and the hell that he had lived through for her sake. Gone was the Draco Malfoy she had known and lost twelve years ago, and gone, too, was his love for her. He walked past without a word, and Ginny understood, in that moment, that he could never forgive her. Blaise Zabini had been named the only victim that day, but three lives had ended in her effort to protect them.
Fin
Enjoyed? Confused? Think I'm cruel? Review!
I've changed the ending, yet again, though I'm still not satisfied (especially with the last line). Does it make any more sense now?
To clarify a few things that just don't fit into the fic—Blaise was a Death Eater, and had discovered that Draco was a spy for the Order (which is why Ginny can't tell Macarthur). Blaise was going to tell Voldemort, of course, so Ginny has to stop him, and the first hex she thinks of…kills him.
Other than that, I just wanted to point out that more than one sacrifice is made in this story, which I hope the last line makes clear. Ginny sacrificed herself and Draco, even though she didn't know she was doing it. Rough luck.