TITLE: Dark Lord's Little Helper, Chapter Eight
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Draco/Ginny
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.
BETAS: Gemsbok, ShadowPhoenix
SUMMARY: Between fighting down surges of envy, attempting to unravel the secret of Harry's dream, and surviving mysterious attacks on his person, Draco must still attempt to court Ginny… He's sure Potter never had it this hard.
I Have my Pride…Hang on…Huh…I Know I've got it Here Somewhere…
Draco didn't see the girl again until they lined up to head into the castle. He did, however, have the dubious pleasure of fighting Parkinson's advances off for most of the train ride. Pansy was a shameless flirt, and was all but sitting in his lap by the time they arrived. Draco wished he could have enjoyed it more, but he mostly just found it annoying.
The worst bit was, after staring out the window in introspection for almost an hour, he turned to Pansy and asked her point blank; "Do you find Potter attractive?"
To which she 'giggled demurely,' squeaking like a demented chipmunk, and replied, "Yeah, he's kind of cute, in that idiot Gryffindor way." Of course, she may have said so only because he'd remarked, since they'd sat down, that Ginny Weasley had rather nice teeth, that Ginny Weasley threw a good curse, and that Ginny Weasley had a pleasant voice, but still! Give a bloke a break.
He resolved to ignore the two-timing redhead from then on, but hadn't counted on her extreme perseverance, nor his own apparently negligible willpower. As soon as they were walking up the steps to the castle, he felt something slide into his hand, and looked down to see her own pressing a note to his palm. She gave him a completely guileless wide, brown-eyed look, and he responded with what he was sure was an incredibly goofy grin.
She immediately pulled away to join the Gryffindors, and Draco fought to bring his face under control. Dear God, he'd practically been simpering at her! Malfoys did not simper! Next he knew, he'd be writing fluffy love poems, serenading her beneath her window, and sending her charmed chocolates. No, the madness stopped here! Taking a deep breath, he surreptitiously unfolded the note.
Meet me in the library tonight while everyone else is at the feast, it heartlessly read.
G.W.
Ha. Well, they'd just see who was stronger, wouldn't they? Some smarmy little freckle-faced girl, or the majestic heir to the Malfoy fortune—if he hadn't been formally disowned yet. However much things had changed, Draco was certain he remained the same. He was not caving to that redheaded brat. And she could take Potter to her little tryst in the library, if she needed it so badly—because Draco Malfoy wasn't coming.
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Draco arrived in the library, dressed rather finely and wearing a debonair expression. "You wanted to see me?" he inquired, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows. She whacked him with a book.
"Not for that, you louse! I wanted to see if you had any ideas about…the Harry problem. I figured we could really get some good research in, since Hogwarts has one of the best libraries in existence. Where should we start?"
Draco muttered complaints under his breath, rubbing his arm where she'd hit him as he followed her to a table. "You do know that I'm risking life and limb to be here with you tonight, don't you?" he asked. "I mean, sneaking out of my dorm, evading the many spies of Slytherin, risking the wrath of my head of house?"
Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder as she sat down. "Well, yes," she said, sounding utterly unconcerned. "That's what the good guys do for their friends—risk life and limb in order to help them."
Malfoy gave her his most imperious glare. "Potter is not my friend."
"No," she agreed, flipping a book open before her, and barely paying attention to him. "But I am."
Draco opened his mouth to parry the remark, but halted before anything came out. He thought this over, opened his mouth again, and once again clamped it shut. After repeating this several times in quick succession, he finally collapsed beside her, scowling viciously. "Bloody hell. You're right. How thoroughly irritating. And how the mighty have fallen." Ginny proceeded to ignore him, lost in the ancient tome. "Well, on the other hand, I suppose that Gryffindors are usually loyal, and you do bite. It's a bit like having man's best friend about, I suppose."
"Mmm. Diamonds are a girl's best friend," she countered in a distracted voice, licking a finger to turn the page.
"Is that a hint?"
She looked perplexed. "What?"
"Oh, never mind," he replied, airily waving his hand. "Much too soon to be talking about that, and besides; I'm probably going to have to start pawning things if I want to get you anything decent. I've been cut off from my accounts, the Headmaster told me privately, which is seriously going to put a kink in my admittedly somewhat indulgent lifestyle. Of course—"
"Draco?"
"Yes, dear?"
"What the blazes are you on about?" She stared at him, appearing absolutely flummoxed.
"Oh, just planning for the future. You can never start too young when it comes to planning for your future—or for crushing the dreams of your underlings, so my father tells me, or for—"
"Draco."
"Yes, dear," he replied, sounding far more henpecked than the first time around. "And would you please stop interrupting me?"
"Yes, of course, so long as you do one little thing for me." She smiled charmingly at him, and he scooted his chair closer.
"Absolutely!" he responded with a wide smile.
"Good. Then shut the bloody hell up and help me go through these books. I've a list here of all the books containing animals, reptiles or otherwise, and it's a very long one, so we'd best get started."
Draco heaved a frustrated sigh, tugging a musty volume across the table. "Has anyone ever told you what a romantic you are?" he asked peevishly, flipping through the fragile pages.
"Don't be stupid."
"Thought not." He drummed his fingers on the desk for a bit, his mind elsewhere. Finally he said, "Ginny?" in a rather suspicious tone. "What did you tell your brother? About the feast and everything, I mean. After all, I hardly expect you to have chirped, 'Oh, sorry I can't make it, but Draco Malfoy—the world's greatest lover—and I will be necking in the library! Have a nice evening!'"
"My voice is not that high, nor is it that obnoxiously cheerful," she pointed out with annoyance.
Draco shrugged. "Is this the cunning art of avoidance I see being performed before me?"
The redhead slammed the book in front of her shut. "I just told him I wasn't feeling well, and that maybe I'd be down later."
"Ah. I see."
"Don't be like that," she said desperately. "I couldn't tell him I was meeting with you; he hates you. And we have enough on our plates without having my homicidal brother around."
"Yes, of course," Draco replied coolly, undoing a scroll so he could make a list of likely sources. "And Potter, of course, would go into some sort of melodramatic torment overload if he saw us together." His lips were pinched together tightly, and he very carefully did not look in her direction.
"Is that what's bothering you?" she responded, sounding genuinely surprised. "Because Harry kissed me earlier?"
Draco sniffed, tossing his bangs back with a pale hand. "Don't be ludicrous," he retorted. "I'm sure I, along with the rest of the insipid morons that comprise the wizarding world, am just waiting anxiously for your idyllic white wedding and saccharine swoonfest. Take it easy on the groom, would you? Word in Ravenclaw has it that he's frightfully inept with his lips, and Parvati says he's an absolute clod on the dance floor. Resign yourself to a life of having to lead, then. No doubt his money and fame well make up for his lack of prowess in other areas, but—"
"Draco!" she snapped, and he fell into a sullen silence. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone more blatantly jealous in all my life. Well, apart from Ron in fourth year, but that was entirely his fault."
"I am not jealous! I am happy for you," he spat, as though each word was more disgusting than the last. "I can hardly wait to greet your diminutive, freckled, nearsighted children into this world!"
Ginny couldn't help it. She laughed. "Oh, stop it." Seeing that he was still seething quietly, she reached a tentative hand out and took it with her own. "Harry's…nice," she admitted. "But he's kind of a loose cannon right now, and…he lacks your rather unique sense of humour." Draco seemed to relax a bit at this, shoulders falling into a more natural set. "Besides," she added softly, "You really are a much better kisser."
He perked up considerably at this. "Er. Am I really? Of course, that might not be saying much…I get the impression that the giant squid would be a better kisser than Potter." He grinned when she rolled her eyes. "All right, I'll behave. Um. You wouldn't care to…um. Since you supposedly enjoyed it so much, and everything…"
Ginny fixed him with a hard look. "Not until we've made some headway in the books," she told him firmly. "We're not going to get all distracted first and lose track of time."
"Ah! I distract you, do I? Yes, that is a common complaint of the women round me. I can hardly help it if my irresistible charisma—"
"Draco! Books!"
He heaved a great sigh and plunged into the non-fiction world of monstrous reptiles. "Oh, all right."
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They went on like that at least once a week, pretending to be studying, avoiding their friends and peers. Draco was less than satisfied with the arrangement. "I suppose I can understand not wanting to scream from the rooftops that we're having a relationship," he said one evening after they'd met in their usual nook. "I mean, after all, my death is highly sought after by both the Death Eaters and most of your brothers, but it really is rather chafing that we can't tell anyone. I can't help but feel that you're ashamed of me—though I know that's impossible. Who wouldn't want to brag about dating the dashing, dapper, clever, cultured, and devilishly divine Draco Malfoy?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, smiling a little. "Well, if nothing else, you've convinced me that there's a fine line between aggravation and love. I can't tell the difference anymore. At any rate, do you think we're getting anywhere at all? We've been at this for weeks."
"Mmm," he responded noncommittally. He pulled over the piece of parchment they were using to write down possible leads. "Listen to this; 'The Red-bellied black snake'…blah blah…'somewhat less venomous than'…so forth and so on…'coagulaopathy'…uh-huh…nope. Doesn't even cause death. Fuck. I'm beginning to think you're right—this is a complete waste of time." He swiftly shut the book.
"Maybe I should work on finding out what I can from Harry," Ginny suggested. "After all, it was his dream, and I'm sure that with a bit of prodding on my part and sifting and sorting on his, we'd be bound to come up with some kind of clue."
"Oh, jolly good," Draco said in a chilly voice. "Let me guess, you'll put on something low-cut, invite him in for a drink, then try to seduce the information out of him before he goes Harry Haywire on you again? Brilliant plan, Rottweiler."
Ginny gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to do anything like seduction, and where on earth would I invite him in for a drink? Where would I even get a drink, Draco? I'll just…I'll just…reason with him, that's all."
Draco smirked. "Even better. May I watch? It's sure to be entertaining, especially since his angst gland is just churning it out. I can hear him now, 'Why can't you all just leave me aloooone? Stay out of my room! Stay away from my stuff! Don't look at me! You all hate me, don't you? You're keeping secrets from me, aren't you? None of you understands how hard it is to be the most whopping famous person who ever lived, have scads of cash, and have everyone think you're some sort of God. It's sooooo haaaaard!"
Ginny chucked a book at him, but missed. As it hit the floor, a sound like FWHOOOMPH reverberated from below. They stared at the book in silence for a moment. "What was that?" she finally whispered.
Draco was rather paler than normal. "I think it came from the dungeons," he told her dully.
Then she was running, pulling Draco from his chair, joining the crowd in the hallway, fighting through swarms of people, pushing and shoving down the dungeon steps, smoke billowing up from below. The Slytherin password wasn't even necessary; everything was wide open in the emergency. She could hear Malfoy's voice in her ear, insisting that whatever had happened, they were too late, they were going the wrong way, they should be getting outside with the others, that they couldn't do any good. She ignored him.
A large black shape formed in the thick smoke, striding quickly towards them, motioning them back up the stairs. "Go," the dark voice commanded.
"Professor Snape?" Ginny coughed a little. Her eyes were beginning to water. "What—what happened?"
Snape gave them a steely glance. "It appears that someone set Mister Malfoy's bed alight," he said finally. "And isn't it lucky that Mister Malfoy wasn't there?" A smirk, an arm rising, his robe over their heads, protecting them from the noxious air as he guided them out of the dungeon.
Something inside Draco was frozen. Just because a few weeks had gone by apparently didn't mean the Dark Lord had forgotten about him. In fact, it seemed Draco Malfoy was still very much on the man's—er, man in a loose sense, at any rate—mind (also in a loose sense). Dumbledore had given Draco a room of his own—for his protection. To be able to get through the wards that had been put up, someone had to have been very determined indeed. Things had abruptly progressed beyond menacing goons and empty threats. The Dark Lord wanted Draco dead. Someone was trying to kill him.
He tried to look over his shoulder at the smoke-filled lower chambers, but Snape's robe was in the way. Too bad, that—it always helped to have a visual. He wondered who it could have been. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem quite swift enough to have managed it, and Pansy seemed completely oblivious to the shifting politics of the summer. Millicent didn't strike him as the type—in fact, when you got right down to it, the only person in Slytherin house intelligent enough to break Draco's wards and torch his room was pretty much Draco himself. Well, he amended in his head, And Professor Snape, of course.
He swallowed and insinuated himself between the taller wizard and Ginny. This was an unfortunate development. He was fairly certain, because of his father's intimations, that Severus Snape was a spy for Voldemort. And he was clever. He was cunning. He was a bloody sneaky bastard, too.
After he'd gotten them out of the dungeons, Snape yanked his cloak away, standing back and glaring at them suspiciously. "Miss Weasley," he said in a coldly civil tone. "You're a bit far from your ivory tower, aren't you? And Draco," he whirled to stare down into grey eyes, holding the pause for far too long. "It almost seems as though someone might disapprove of your current choice of compatriots, does it not?" He arched a brow and spun on his heel. "Come with me. I shall let the Headmaster explain things to you."
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"My things!" Draco was moaning pitifully. "All of my marvellous, luxurious things!" He ran his fingers over a blackened bit of cloth. "My Turkish cotton bathrobe! My lovely squashy armchair upholstered in the finest Italian leather! My pants! My French silk-lined paaaants!"
"Oh, stop it, Draco," Ginny told him crossly. "It could have been far worse. It could have been you, roasting like a marshmallow in there!" They were sitting in what was left of Draco's dorm, which was no longer burning brightly, but still emitting the occasional puff of smoke, as he tried to determine whether anything was salvageable.
Draco heaved a large sigh and flopped down on the floor beside her (not leather) chair. "Yes, yes. I suppose you're right. Dumbledore says I was quite lucky that I happened to sneak out to meet you in the library just as someone decided to christen me the Amazing Combustible Slytherin. Still, that stuff was the only stuff I had left. Now I have no choice but to fight the Dark Lord, on the off chance of deposing my father and reclaiming my birthright." He sighed loudly again. "It's all such a bother."
"That's the spirit," Ginny told him helpfully, stroking his hair. It made her ill to think someone had been trying to hurt him, and that only the fact that he'd been with her had averted such a disaster. "Did Dumbledore say exactly that? Um. About being with me, and everything?"
"Yes…come to think of it, he did know rather a lot, didn't he? I was too busy grieving for my hand-stitched Maltese slippers to care at the time. Oh, lord…the slippers." He leaned his forehead against her knee.
"There, there," Ginny told him in a voice that only held the dregs of 'you're-being-silly-now-stop-it' nuances. "Snape says he'll have you a new room ready as quick as anything."
For some reason, Draco only whimpered more at this revelation. "Please quit trying to cheer me up," he begged her.
Ginny was looking about the room with an air of contemplation, her dark eyes narrowed in thought. "I wonder why someone is trying to kill you, though," she mused aloud.
"Hello? Dark Lord? Deserter? Malfoy, King of Evil—or at least, Archduke of Evil? Any of this ringing a bell?" he asked, staring at her in disbelief.
"Well, yes, but what good would it do them? Is it just supposed to be a lesson to those who might switch sides, or what?"
"Who cares why they did it! They did it! Isn't that enough?" He deviously rubbed his cheek against her thigh.
Sighing, she flicked his ear hard enough that he squawked indignantly. "No, Draco—I'm being serious. Do you know something that they're worried about getting spread around?"
"What, like…the Dark Lord wet his pants until he was nearly seven, type of thing?"
"No, you unfortunately handsome idiot. I mean like…their weaknesses. Like…okay, Harry was telling us Muggle stories once, and there was this one bloke that got all sick whenever you got a green rock near him. Stuff like that. I mean, you're actually related to some of them. What do you know that could help us, you know, bring them down?"
Draco scrunched up his nose in thought. "Their weaknesses? Well…um. Father's deathly allergic to cats, I do know that." Ginny gave him one of those looks, and he shrugged. "I don't know! None of them melt if you spill water on them, they can't be banished by saying their names backwards three times, and they're just as strong after sunrise as they are before. None of them ever took me aside and said, 'Oh, just for future reference, if you poke me in the ankle with a sharp stick, I'll fall down screaming and die.' They never trusted me."
Ginny rested her chin in her hand, disappointed. "There has to be something. Really, Draco; you have to be more useful than this. Or I'm going to be really let down. They really never told you anything?"
He frowned at her. "No! Nothing! Mother said it was to 'protect' me. The only things I ever found out about were because of sitting on the landing and overhearing conversations. And it was dead quiet after Father escaped Azkaban, except for the whole bit about having Auntie and Uncle Nut-job over and offering me up as a burnt sacrifice. Oh, and…I dunno. Something about how the Dark Lord would invite Potter to a cocktail party before the year was out, and then they all laughed, as they usually do. Aunt Bellatrix with a hair-raising shriek, Uncle Rodolphus with low, murmuring madness, and Father and Mother with dutiful host/hostess appreciation. That's all." Draco's eyes fluttered closed as Ginny's fingers gently rubbed his temples. "They just didn't trust me. Kept thinking I'd sell them out to the other side."
"Well, sounds to me like they were right, then," a new, angry voice spoke up. "And I think we'll be taking a page out of their book and not telling you anything either." Ron was framed in the door, scowling ferociously. "Dumbledore told me I'd find you down here, Ginny. I didn't expect to see you cuddling up to the ferret, though. How many times have I told you to stay away from him?"
"And how many times have I told you to mind your own business?" she shot back promptly.
"It's nice to see you, too, Weasel," Draco said courteously. "Dear brother-in-law, have you come to help restore my room?"
Ron's face flamed Chudley Cannon maroon. "WHAT did you call me?"
Draco grinned evilly as he stood up. "Ooooooh, direct hit! I'll have to remember that one."
Ron grabbed Ginny by the arm, hauling her out the door. "We. Are. Leaving."
Draco could hear her protesting and explaining as she was dragged away, complaining about Ron's heavy-handed tactics, insisting her life was her own. He shrugged, navigating the debris and poking his head out the door. "Don't worry, Cupcake! Your handsome prince will come and rescue you from the nasty ogre just as soon as he's got his décor all straightened out! Kisses!"
Dimly, he thought he heard Ron make a noise like an enraged harpy somewhere above, and Ginny yelled, "Oh, Draco," exasperatedly. A job well done. Now, all he had to do was figure out who was trying to kill him, save Potter from his mysterious fate, and crush his father while leaving the family name intact. He wondered if he'd have time for a bit of lunch at some point.
