I killed him. And he tried to rape me.
I shouldn't get myself into a tizzy over it all…
But that talk with Narcissa Black (What happened to her Malfoy surname?) really changed my perspective. I went to talk coz Mum told me to. Mum's sitting downstairs, a hopeful expression on her face as she holds a breakfast tray in the kitchen of the Burrow. The old friendly Burrow. The tray's for me. Too bad I'm still not coming down.
Merlin, the Talk. Though it occurred five hours ago, every word is still etched into my mind.
"Come in, Miss Weasley." Ginevra fisted her fingers in her new green robe, bought specially for this meeting. She was nervous. How would the matriarch of the Malfoy family treat her? Was she "dirt" anymore?
But then, what was Narcissa Malfoy herself? For the woman's haughty expression was gone, and a look of pain crossed her face. Her robes were ragged and torn. She was barefoot. Her hair was matted and messy, but she had tried to put it in the semblance of a bun. She was still quite pretty, though. Narcissa was a ghost of herself, a ghost that lived in the rubble of the Malfoy Manor, where the only rooms left standing were the front room and the parlor.
For once, little Ginny was the superior one. When she was little, she'd dreamed of one day being the one who could look down her nose at her inferiors. But now that the day was here, she felt no triumph. As well she shouldn't.
"Please, take a-a seat," Narcissa motioned hesitantly. A crooked smile graced her face. "We can sit on the floor." There were no chairs to be had.
Ginny shrugged indifferently and sat on the ground, her hands still clenched nervously. "Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry-"
"Miss Black."
"Excuse me?"
"I want nothing to do with the Malfoys." Narcissa scowled, a rare expression for her. Actually, any expression was rare.
"Oh. Sorry. Miss Black, I wanted to apologize for killing your son-"
Once again, she was interrupted. "No apologies are necessary." Ginny looked up from the floor, surprised, to see tears forming on Narcissa Black's face. Whispering to herself, Narcissa murmured softly.
"He was a good boy, a golden boy. The only side he ever showed me was caring and worried. Until he was seventeen, he kept the ugly meanness from this house. He knew that Lucius beat me. He knew that I was raped. He knew. And he tried to stop it.
"But he couldn't. He was only a young boy, and Lord Voldemort had taught Lucius every Dark curse imaginable. And some that weren't. But every hols, little Draco vowed that he would find some way to take us away from this horrid place. And I was always pleased that he'd grown up to be such a gentleman."
Ginny snorted with disgust. How cleverly he'd concealed the fact that he was a twisted boy. Part of her wondered which was the true side of him, the mean one or the caring mommy's boy?
"Then I saw the other side of him. Remember the World Cup? You were in your third year, I believe. I saw him scowling and making fun of young Potter and your family. And it burned in me. I was going to give him a whipping when we got home. How could he treat you like that? No wonder you hated him.
"But when we got home, Lucius left on an urgent mission. Draco immediately turned to me and apologized for everything. Do you know why he was so mean to all of you, all these years?"
Ginny shook her head, stunned at the wave of new information that assaulted her.
"Without my consent or knowledge, Lucius had spies attached to little Draco. Whenever Draco showed kindness and courtesy, Lucius beat him, claiming that it was weakness that needed to be expelled." A faraway look entered the woman's eyes.
"Oh." Red-headed Ginny didn't know what to say. She hadn't been expecting anything like that. She blurted out, "But if he was so "nice", than why did he try to rape me?"
"I wish I had the answer to that, child," Narcissa muttered softly. "And I have as good a guess as any."
"What is it?"
"The Dark Mark." Ginny flinched at the name of it. "It brings on the madness. Bella was alright till she was "stamped". Lucius was a handsome, nice man till he got his own. Draco was the same. It changes people."
Another burning question erupted from Ginny's mouth. "Did you get it?"
Narcissa grinned slightly. "I burned mine off a day after I got it. Malfoy assumed I had it, simply because I Apparated with him. Actually, I put a tracking spell on him, so I always knew where to go."
Ginny breathed, "Brilliant." She felt repentant for all the unkind thoughts she'd had of the Black matriarch. If she'd known this…
"Glad you approve." Another ghost of a smile greeted Ginny. "Come. I will tell you more." Ginny settled down, liking this woman more and more.
It was like she'd been completely transformed. Could a person really be that changed? And to think that she'd been secretly against Voldemort, all these years. What a help she could've been to the Order!
What a help she could've been, since Snape was murdered cruelly by Voldemort in front of all of us.
And Harry was helpless.
Harry, Harry, Harry. I love that boy with all my heart. In a way, I'm glad that I killed Draco. If I hadn't, Harry would've. I know it.
I don't know where Harry is. Nobody knows. It's been five long, terrible days since the Great War. Twenty-seven since I killed Draco.
Will I forever count the days by Draco's death? I'm sure it's not healthy.
I saw Harry three days ago. He kissed me sweetly on the lips, than Apparated away. I should've asked where he was going, and now it's much too late.
But I know Harry well. After all, it's been eight whole years since we met. He's gone off, blaming himself for Percy's death. So many died. A list of them (on the good side of things, anyway) is taped to my door, so that I don't ever forget. My eyes rove the list, seeking a special few.Parvati Patil-Finnigan
- Dean Thomas
- Andromeda TonksPercival Weasley
- Cedric Diggory (I know he died many years ago, but I count him among us)
- Albus Dumbledore
- Severus Snape
- Sirius Black
- Ernie Macmillan
The list trailed on and on, counting all people who had ever died by the hands of the Dark ones. Tears came to my eyes, forcing me to look away from that horrid list.
At least my beautiful Harry's name wasn't on that list. Still, I worry about him. He's nineteen years old, but he still hasn't learned that it's not his fault everybody died. We all sacrificed in that long, dreadful war.
Ah, well. I can spend my days worrying.
But I'm not gonna be like Harry. It's not my fault that people died. It wasn't because of me.
I didn't kill Malfoy. My wand and my voice did, but not me. He brought it upon himself. Hmpf!
I can hear Mum calling my name. I think, for once, I'll go downstairs. Sighing, but without regrets (for once), I get up and open the door, ready to face the rest of the world.
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Telwyn Dubois
