Summary: Draco makes a promise to Ginny, and is forced to hold true to it; but he finds that it becomes less and less of a chore to respond.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except for the American hunk that will appear eventually. J.K. Rowling owns them; I just mess around with them for a bit.
Rating: R for violence, language, and attempted rape.
A/N: Welcome one and all to my first fic ever. I've beta'd before, but never written anything fic-related for myself. So, here goes.
Draco Malfoy was a boy of eight, walking along the street quietly, hands in his pockets, his hair slicked back just the way his father had done it for him. He loved his mother and father, and he loved being their son—it meant he always got what he wanted, including the toy wand that resided in his pocket. Already the wooden carving was shiny with wear around the makeshift handle, he had loved it so much.
His shirt was tucked in, his jumper rolled—just so—at the sleeves so it was the right length, his shoes shiny from polish, his pants brandishing their creases like weapons. He was very proud of the way he looked, and took great joy in being as beautiful as his parents.
He had, of course, been taught much by his father already. He knew a good bit of magic, some of it Dark, some of it not, and he'd been practicing it with his father's wand in the safety of their home. He knew all of the purebloods, especially his relatives, by name and face, because his father had insisted he study them for hours on end. And "Purebloods, unfortunately," his father said, "do include some...mistakes." Draco wasn't quite sure what his father meant, but he knew which ones were the mistakes, all right.
He lifted his head as he heard some kind of fuss going on in an alley off to one side. Curious, and unable to resist a possible chance to show off his knowledge, he took a detour and headed down into the semi-darkness of the alley. His ears listened as unfamiliar voices muttered things he wasn't sure he wanted to hear. But eventually he could see what was going on, and he sneered. "Filthy Muggles," he said, pulling the toy wand from his pocket and pointing it at them when he saw they were fawning over a young girl who, apparently, did not want to be fawned over. The Muggle boys, at least a few years older than him and in much shabbier clothes, looked at the wand and laughed. And then Draco Malfoy gave them a surprise. This wasn't such a toy wand, after all. His parents wouldn't dream of giving him a toy that didn't suffice. He muttered a spell and shifted the wand slightly. A large orb of yellow light hit a brick wall and bounced off, ricocheting off the walls until it reached the sky, where it mingled with the brightness of the sun.
He looked back down at the girl with the bright red hair, who was looking up at him with big brown eyes. Draco put his "toy" wand away, and took her hand, helping her up. As he was a few years older, obviously he was taller. He smiled down at her and she smiled back at him, a gap-toothed smile that showed her to be missing at least two teeth. "Thank you," she said softly to him, and he shrugged.
"Have to help other wizards, you know. Father says it's my job. Especially purebloods. Even...mistakes...like you, Ginny Weasley." He only knew he name because his father had made him study so hard, but he felt good knowing that it was the kind of knowledge he could count on. "Look...if you're, you know...ever in trouble again," he said after a bit of hesitation, "just give this a squeeze." He held out a necklace to her, a pendant dully shining silver hanging from a fine silver chain. The pendant was in the form of an owl, a rather dull-looking one, at that. But it was pretty enough, in its way. Ginny nodded and dropped the chain around her neck, so that the pendant hung about halfway down her torso. She smiled that gap- toothed smile again, turned, and left.
--- --- ---
I Disapparated into a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, sighing with relief that the meeting was, at last, over. Now satisfied that it was safe, I removed my mask and tucked it away into a pocket of my robes, feeling nothing more than drained. I had only become a Death Eater because father had...asked me to become one, and he certainly had some...persuasive methods. Not that I would ever dare to complain about the methods; after all, my silence was what had saved my life so many times.
I walked quietly through the forest, merely glad that I didn't have to wait through any more disturbing scenes. I had seen more than enough torture in my eighteen years, and tonight had been just one more display among many. Unfortunately, in many cases, I shuddered to recall the subject was, in fact, myself rather than someone else.
Someone else. Oh, damn. There was someone else. Someone was calling, and I knew, of course, who it was. Damn you, Ginny Weasley, for robbing me of the closest thing I have to peace. I growled slightly but felt myself running along anyway, the mental "red light" flashing her location, steering me toward her. I felt it flashing more rapidly as I wove through the trees, my robes not serving to help or hinder me in any way as I bounded along through the forest. I finally slid to a stop, and growled again at what I saw. There was another man in the robes of a Death Eater, his mask discarded, struggling with Ginny, trying to get her to hold still long enough for him to take her shirt off. He actually succeeded, but he tore the shirt into several pieces doing so before I was upon him in a running tackle, sending the man tumbling to the ground. I straddled his chest and laid repeated blows to his face with my fist until I was satisfied the man wouldn't be causing any more problems. Shaking my hand out, I noticed Ginny's state of undress and took off my robes, passing them to her, leaving myself in a thin white button-down shirt and black trousers. Although the air was a bit chilly, I didn't really mind.
"I can't go around saving you all the time, you know, Ginny," I said, standing up straighter as we headed back towards Hogwarts, my hand still stinging a bit from all the punches I had laid to the other Death Eater.
Ginny looked at me silently, hugging my robes tightly around her small frame. "I know you can't, Draco, but you're all I've got that I can count on to come when I need it," she replied, sticking her chin out in a rather Gryffindor sort of way.
Typical Gryffindor. Always trying to make anyone and everyone believe they're the coolest cats out there. And we both knew that I was by far the more experience wizard, and the one that had the brawn needed to save her. Over, and over, and over again. "Dammit, Ginny, how do you manage to get into so much trouble?" I asked in exasperation, glad that the castle was looming closer. Sometimes she really just ticked me off, and the worst part about it was that she didn't seem to realize she was doing it.
"I dunno. Same way you manage to get yourself hurt, I suppose," she said smoothly, and I froze for an instant as I looked icily at her. That one really stung, as I recall—especially considering how many times I'd managed to sustain wounds from creatures like hippogriffs.
I said nothing in reply, and just picked up my pace, walking quicker towards the castle. But then I stopped, when I realized that I would need those robes again. I wouldn't need this shirt, but I would damn well need those robes she was wearing. "Ginny. Trade," I said, unbuttoning the shirt quickly and holding it out to her even as I turned my back. I found the robes tossed over my arm, and I put them back on over my bare chest, picking up right where I'd left off. I kept on towards the castle, extremely glad that I was Head Boy this year, and thus allowed my own chambers.
I bid goodnight to Ginny at the door, and continued down the stairs towards the dungeons, stopping to access my rooms. Once inside, I immediately cast aside the robes and trousers, flopping down onto my bed and closing my eyes with the hope that maybe, just maybe, I would get a bit of sleep tonight.
I hadn't really slept in two days, and it was starting to take its toll on me. Each night I'd fallen asleep easily enough, only to be haunted by that nightmare...from which I would awake and be unable to return to sleep. I hated being my father's son; it meant that not only did I inherit his money, his blood, his powers, and his looks, but that I also inherited a certain inability to rest at night. Damn me for taking after him. And damn my father for being an insomniac.
And then, all of a sudden, there it went again. That damned signal in my head, like a beacon, screaming, "Come and get a fresh dose of fatigue! Ginny Weasley's in trouble again!" With a groan, I rolled out of my warm, comfortable bed. I pulled on the trousers I'd discarded and a fresh shirt from my closet before I grabbed my wand and ran down the corridors, following the signal.
It led me straight to the library, and I could hear the sounds of the struggle even before I'd gotten a good ways down the hall. I burst through the door, only to see someone looming over a very tied-down Ginny, who had clearly tugged on the pendant before she'd been secured. I whipped out my wand, ready for anything—
Or so I'd thought.
A/N: Mmm nasty cliffies yay! There is more on the way. Believe it or not, I've got a whole outline to help. And many thanks to my lovely beta Herbie, who kindly helped me decide on many of the fic's...adornments, shall we say. Much love for you.