Better Left Unsaid
AN: Harry Potter is not mine.
I loved him, and suppose I always did. Sure, I had my crushes on other guys, and even had a few short relationships with as few, but even with them I never felt complete. Every guy that I dated gave me everything a girl could ask for: money, attention, jewelry, candy, and compliments no matter the state of my health or horrid appearance. Yet, I couldn't help but want him, the one who never gave me the time of day until he needed something, or someone to make fun of when he had a bad day. To me, he was perfect, despite his faults that ultimately forced him to be choose what he really wanted in his life. A decision, so precarious, that the entire world held their breath, and I waited beneath my favorite weeping willow, my faith in him never once flickering in the cruel wind.
The long day finally ended, and the grueling hours spent inside the dank dungeon were finally over. Her beautiful red hair whipped around her face and sent her winter robes billowing around her ankles. The rain thundered upon her petite frame, and stung her eyes. She did not care; she loved the rain, the cool droplets impaling her creamy skin helped her forget about her day and the days before that.
Contrary to the popular belief that she hung around her brother and his friends all the time, she actually spent much of her time outdoors beneath her favorite tree. She had her own friends; multitudes of them, but no one she was close with. Although a Gryffindor, many of her friends were Slytherins; they gave her a sense of comfort that they other houses did not. The one person that she allowed to be "close" to was Blaise Zabani.
Her and the seventh year Slytherin had been friends long before she entered Hogwarts. The sole reason the two were "close" was because of the obscenely long time the two had known each other. She did not trust many people. Although, she appeared to put her life in Harry Potter's hands many a times, and for the most part she was always in control of the situations and knew the best way to escape from them.
Finally, she made it to her tree; the tree she always came to when she needed to think. She muttered a quick drying spell over the place on a thick wooden branch near the bottom, and then quickly muttered a protection spell to keep her from being drenched.
She leaned back onto her tree branch, her eyes watching with fascination as the rain dripped from the crying tree onto the soggy ground around her. A twig snapped like that of a brittle bone. She quickly reached for her wand, her spidery finger tips clutching the end, as she waited for the stranger to finish their journey to her sacred refuge. She did not wait long, and the gaunt thin faced, scraggly blonde haired man approached her. His blonde hair, once sleek, now limply hung about his bony face, and his cold silver gray eyes, now seemed duller and more sadistic than they had in the prior years. This man, dangerous as he was, looked to be nothing more than a walking corpse.
She stared at him for a moment, before delicately hopping off of the tree. He stepped toward her, his papery lips grimaced into an ugly smirk.
"Where is he, Weasly?
"Where is who, Malfoy?" she demanded gruffly.
"My son, you poor, insolent, girl! Do you wish for me to make you subservient to me?" he growled, his hands disappearing into the deep folds of his robes.
"I do not know where he is, Luscious," she spit viscously, "and even if I did, I would not tell you."
Angered, he lunged at her. She side stepped him, but did not notice the shinny dagger he pulled from his robes. The dagger caught her in the chest, and she made no sound as it ripped her creamy flesh, and tore its jagged mark to her navel. Blood gushed freely from the gaping open wound, but she did not whimper or cry out. Instead she raised her wand, her paling face staring straight into the dull ones of Luscious Malfoy, as she spoke the words he never expected her to utter. The last thing he saw, before the flashing green light blinded him, were her cool, sympathetic hazel eyes, before the fiery white light licked at him. He felt his soul being dragged away from his body, which slowly fell limply to the soggy, grassy land, and though he no longer was in his body, he could feel the burn of his sins eating him.
Heavily, she collapsed against her tree branch. The protection spell broke, and the rain tumbled in and intertwined with her maroon blood. It stained the brown dirt to a dingy black. She stared fixedly at the man she just murdered, but she could feel no remorse. Darkness started to engulf her, but she refused to allow it to consume her. With great effort, she dragged her heavy limbs away from the tree. She was dying, she knew that, but she refused to allow herself to fall before the vile man who had injured her. She knew she needed to at least attempt to mutter a healing spell, but the effort was too great, and she needed her strength to battle the harrowing weather.
Upon reaching the middle of the huge stone-walled quad, she knew she was only a little ways from the grand double doors of the Great Hall. Blood continued to gush from the long slash, and finally the attempt to reach the doors became too much for her weakened body to handle, and she collapsed against she wet ground. Water splashed as her body heavily hit the floor. She closed her eyes, and hoped of all people he would not find her; he did not deserve to see her like this.
When she woke, she found herself in the pristine white qualms of the hospital wing. Her chest and stomach ached, and burned when she moved. Disappointed, she groaned. She expected to see the pearly gates of the greater beyond, not still be trapped in this desolate plane.
"Did you honestly expect Heaven to welcome a murder with open arms?" a lilting voice questioned dryly.
She cracked her hazel eyes open bit, and found herself staring into the slate gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes churned with relief and concern, and quickly he adverted his gaze.
"Of all the people to murder my father, I never thought it would have been a Weasel."
"I.." she never finished her sentence as she burst into a coughing fit.
Draco handed her a small glass of water and instructed, "Drink slowly."
She obliged, and he took the cup from her. "I do not wish to hear why you did it; I know if I was in your position I would have done the same. As far as I am concerned, my father died of natural causes, and please do not seek me."
With his piece spoken, he exited the Infirmary. Ginny rested her head against the fluffy pillow, confused as to why he was not angry with her. Madame Pomfrey bustled to her only ward, a beaming smile fixed onto her face.
"Oh, Miss Weasly, welcome back. We thought we had lost you for a while. Had Mr.Malfoy not have found you when he did, oh the aftermath would have been simply dreadful."
"Ah, Poppy, I see our young hero decided to come back to us," Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes twinkling a bit.
Poppy quickly agreed, and left the headmaster and his student alone.
Ginny said in a scratchy voice, "I am no hero. I murdered a man."
"So you did, but you murdered a man whom you thought was to kill you; a sadistic man, who if was not stopped, your death would not have been the only tragedy Hogwarts would have mourned."
The meaning was not lost on Ginny as her eyes hardened, she said, "I see. I suppose that war leaves no body unchanged."
"Often times our personal wars are the greatest wars of all, and they change the least likely of people."
As the Headmaster left Ginny, he turned and stared at the frail girl, who was as strong-willed as the boy he had come to think of as his son. Sadly, he knew the future of the young girl, even if she was unsure if it herself.
When I look back on that day, I remember how naive I was. I didn't understand why Draco did not hate me, yet I knew that nothing really changed him. After I was finally released from the Hospital Wing, he was just as nasty as he always was. He spared me no mercy with his silver tongue, and still ignored me like I was yesterday's news. The threat of Voldermort was closer to us than before, and as the days passed to weeks, the Golden Trio grew more apprehensive. Months later, I believe, is when I finally approached Draco with the question that would change the course of history. With Blaise at my side, I found him, and needless to say, he was quite surprised at my request.
"Where do I go to receive my mark?" Ginny asked quietly, yet firmly. She stood tall as she approached Draco, who silently raised a pale eyebrow at the curly dark brown haired boy who stood by her side. It was common knowledge Blaise stood with the light in the war, something that caused many Slytherins to despise the handsome boy. Blaise shrugged his shoulders and glanced away from him, knowing that if Draco stared long enough he'd read him like an open book.
"And why would the Gryffie kitten want to know this?"
"I am anything but a 'kitten'," she responded quietly, "I am a bigger part of the dark than you know."
He barked a dry laugh and said, "So you proved earlier in the year. You made even the Slytherin Prince proud."
"I am glad I have pleased him so, however, I have also come to make a second request."
"And what would that be?"
"That my joining the ranks be kept a secret between the three of us."
"Does the fool of a headmaster know what you are doing?"
"No," she answered truthfully.
"I see," after a moments thought he said, " Then meet me in the dungeons tonight."
That night I received my dark mark. Voldermort claimed me as his 'special pet.' I was given special assignments to prove my loyalty to him and his cause. Years of being the youngest child and practically ignored made my task a little easier. After all, who better to kill the Dark Lord, than some one who already has a part of him inside them? No one knew, aside from Blaise, and to this day I regret telling him. Ultimately, his actions proved only to help me, although at the time, I thought he ruined me. Draco stood by my side the entire time I was a slave to my "Lord". We grew closer through some of the "missions" we had together, and it was those I actually had to kill innocents. I think he knew better than any of the fools in both orders what my plans were. So, when I requested one last thing from him, he was not shocked by it. He knew. He always did.
"Draco, will you do me one last favor?" she asked quietly as they stared at the midnight blue sky and watched the twinkling stars be obscured from the gray-black smoke from the burning house beside them.
He grunted, and did not turn to look at her. His stomach flip-flopped and his heart accelerated. He knew what her request was; he had been anticipating it for years. Fumbling with a package of cigarettes, he lit one, but did not place it in his mouth.
"Blaise finally told the Order I have 'double crossed' them," she began, her eyes never leaving the sky. "Dumbledore, though a fool, knows what I am about to do. What I want to know is, will you join the Order?"
He took a long drag from his cigarette, and glanced over at her form. She did not look at him and instead continued to gaze at the stars.
"I don't know. I will be killed if our "Lord" finds out what you plan to do."
"He will not be alive long enough to kill you," she replied evenly.
He sighed, knowing if her plan failed, she would be dead, along with the entire Order. He also knew he was fighting for the cause he did not believe in, and never had believed in.
"I do not know," he repeated stonily.
"When you figure it out, I'll be waiting for you. You'll know where to find me," Ginny replied, as she stood and walked away from him. He watched her leave, his eyes never leaving her backside.
