Hmm…just can't stop writing…


"Where have you been?" Hermione questioned as Ginny walked into the Common Room.

"Patrols."

Hermione looked at her watch. "You still shouldn't have been away that—"

"With Malfoy." Ginny added.

"Oh, okay then."

"…oh okay then? That's all you have to say!"

Hermione put down her book and smiled. "I've been on patrol with Malfoy before, Gin, I know how stubborn he gets. Always sneaking off when my back is turned, the little rat."

Ginny snickered.

"What?"

Ginny tried to suppress her smile. "Nothing." There was silence while Hermione stared at Ginny. Ginny cracked and broke the silence by letting out a snort of laughter. She never was good at suppressing emotions when she had to.

"Seriously, what!"

"Nothing, Hermione. It's nothing." Ginny, again, tried to kill the smile and silence the laughter that was threatening to burst out of her. "I'm going to bed." She announced and quickly bounded up the stairs, releasing her laughter by pounding her entire weight into every step on the way up.


Ginny wished she could have claimed that she had a dreamless sleep. Heck, Ginny could have admitted that she was being chased by a group of raving lunatic Slytherins, bent on destroying the world and making her their slave and she would have been happy about it. But this dream was far more serious.

It did involve Slytherins. One in particular (can you guess?).

'Ginny wandered about the halls of the cold school. It was either very, very late, or very, very early, Ginny wasn't sure, but she knew that the school was practically dead.

She strolled along, careless, until she spotted something on the ground before her. A drop of red liquid. Another lay after it, and another, and another one yet. The pattern the trail left could only prove that someone was hurt and disoriented, and running in every which direction away from something.

Ginny followed the trail, though she knew that she shouldn't, curious on whom or what lay at the end of it.

It was Malfoy. It wasn't Malfoy how she and everyone saw him though, perfect and immaculate. This Malfoy was battered and broken…and five years old.

He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them and face buried in the crook it created. When he looked up Ginny could see his tear-stained face, dried blood now smearing as he wiped away any evidence of tears, and felt a pang of pity and despair for this small boy, and wondered how on earth he could live like this. So young…

"Don't hurt me." It wasn't a plea, or a whimper. It was a command. He was commanding her not to hurt him. And though he held his chin up in arrogance (as usual) and his eyes were filled with pride, his voice, though strong, still wavered, and still sounded pathetic.

"I'm not…" Ginny reached out to him. "I promise I won't hurt you…" The boy pulled away, in not fear, surprisingly, but anger.

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm just trying to help you." Ginny cooed. "Calm down."

"I'm not a little boy! I don't need help!" The boy insisted as he formed into his older version, the Malfoy Ginny knew. "Go away."

"Malfoy what happened to you?"

"I said GO AWAY!" Malfoy pushed Ginny back away from him. "Go away, Weasley. You're not wanted here."

Ginny frowned, but turned and walked away; into a haze, and out of her dream.'


Draco Malfoy awoke crusted in dried blood.


Ooooh…cliffie! Haha…yes yes…notoriously short I know…but I love cliffies! (well…I love WRITING them…)

Hey…are you starting to see a pattern in my stories? Lol…I must be obsessed with dream interpretations or something lol


No no…that's too short…I change my mind. Here you are then:


At 5:30 Malfoy was showered, dressed and ready to go for the day. It had been happening more and more lately. He would wake up covered in blood, presumably his own, at some un-Godly hour of the morning. He would then go straight to the bathroom, shower, notice that it wouldn't be worth it to sleep again, and stayed awake by keeping himself busy; sometimes writing a letter to someone, or doing unfinished homework, sometimes just sitting in the practice room, writing lyrics to a song he never had the intentions of showing anyone.

There was something different about it this time though. Something that Malfoy couldn't quite place. It was the girl. That Weaslette. He never recalled dreaming before he woke in blood. That night he dreamt of Ginny, alone in a corridor with him, trying to help.

He had pushed her away, naturally, declining her help, and staying trapped in this curse. But just what the curse was he didn't know.

I suppose…Draco mused…my father could be my curse. My father. My life. This path, laid out before me that I've chosen with my so called "free will"…

But was it free will? Draco wasn't sure. He knew it was what his father wanted, what everyone expected of him. And while it would be unpleasant to be at the will of someone else constantly Draco was sure it was where he truly belonged. He just didn't know.

It reminded him of a muggle poem in a book he had found once.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…" he muttered, recalling the poem. Though it was written by a muggle it had a theme, and a point, and Draco liked points. He made it a point to memorize the poem.

"And sorry I could not travel both…and be one traveler long I stood, and looked down one as far as I could…"

Draco headed out of the Slytherin Common Room up to the practice room. "To where it bent in the undergrowth."

He sat in utter silence in the room, quill and parchment in hand, just waiting for the inspiration.

He made use of his time by thinking random thoughts, and jotting keywords down on his parchment. So far he had: Confused. Power. Pain. War. Death. Evil. Evil me.

He sat there for what seemed ages, thinking about the war. He was destined to become a Death Eater. It was practically in his blood. But Draco wondered if maybe, just maybe, that was the wrong side to be on. Maybe he realized maybe it's me who's on the wrong side…maybe that's not who I really am…

He quickly shook this thought off. He was a Malfoy. Malfoy's became Death Eaters, and that's all there was to it. Switching sides, helping the Order, thinking things like that were dangerous.

He thought about his father…escaping Azkaban…and from his fathered branched thoughts about how everyone assumed that he wanted to be just like Lucius. And these thoughts in turn branched out to old memories of the "special times" he and Lucius had.

"You are a Malfoy boy, perfect, powerful. You are my heir, and it's about time you took responsibility and started acting like it!"

Lucius had tortured Draco countless times, for more or less than he could remember. Various things, petty things, earned him a good whipping, or "food deprivation", Lucius' pretty term for starvation. No one knew, there was no one he could talk to, and nothing they could do would make a difference anyways.

Malfoy scowled at the thought of Lucius. He always had harbored anger against him for that…this would be the perfect way to get back at him.

But did Malfoy's take revenge? Draco couldn't remember. He had been lectured on so many things the Malfoy's didn't do he was sure what he could do anymore.

"Memories…" Draco sighed. "Memories consume…like opening the wound…I'm picking me apart again." Draco stopped, letting silence settle around him once more before quickly scribbling down the sentence he had just uttered.

He picked up the guitar and strummed a few random chords and continued on.

"You all assume,
I'm safe here in my room,
Unless I try to start again…"

He paused, writing this, and continued playing, feeling overwhelmed with inspiration.

"I don't to be the one,
The battles always choose,
Cuz' inside I realize
That I'm the one confused.

I don't know what's worth fighting for,
Or why I have to scream,
I don't know why I instigate,
And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way,
I know it's not alright,
So I'm breaking the habit, tonight!"

Never to be mean or cruel to anyone in any way ever again. Disobeying not only Lucius, but the Dark Lord. Making his own choice. Choosing his own path. Changing his ways completely.

Breaking the habit of my earlier life…ha…riiight.

Draco frowned and shook these dangerous thoughts out of his head as he crumpled up the parchment. He was about to throw it into the fireplace that had conveniently placed itself three feet away from him when he hesitated, smoothed it out, and stuffed it in his pocket.

It's a nice thought though…


Ginny (somehow) made it through her classes and supper with something close to normalcy. When her mind would wander off to her dream she would discreetly smack herself with her current textbook, or lightly stab her finger with her quill.

Ginny thought it had worked quite nicely in keeping her focused on class, but this thought quickly vanished when McGonagall waltzed into the fifth years' dorms and announced that Ginny were to follow her to the Headmaster's office. On her way out of the Common Room she noted that it was almost 5:30 in the morning.

Maybe I wasn't being as discreet as I thought… Ginny, sitting in Transfiguration, had let her mind wander to that bloody Malfoy, and wondering what that dream had meant, if anything at all. She caught herself after about five minutes of zoning out, however, and quickly stood, walked across the room and used Luna Lovegood's book to hit herself repeatedly, finishing up by turning around, walking back to her table and sitting, looking attentively at McGonagall to prove she was paying attention.

McGonagall had stared at Ginny in a furious manner, started to smile a bit, opened her mouth to ask Ginny something, but closed it, coming to the decision that she didn't want to know.

Bloody Hell! Ginny groaned as she realized she was standing in front of the stone gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's office for the umpteenth time that week. I'm sure to be thrown out!

She climbed the staircase slowly, trying to delay her fate, but it didn't help much seeing as how the staircase itself was speeding her to her doom.

She followed McGonagall into the office and sighed as she collapsed into the chair across from Dumbledore.

"Miss Weasley…" he started.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry I interrupted Professor McGonagall's class with my "antics" (she actually made the quotation marks), and I really would prefer not to explain, it's quite a long story and it's kind of personal."

Dumbledore smiled. "I wasn't aware that you had interrupted class with…er, "antics". I called you up here for a completely different matter."

Ginny blushed and looked down. "Oh, then…go on."

When she was greeted by silence Ginny looked up to find Dumbledore digging though his pockets, pulling out a small tin, opening it, and extending it to Ginny. "Lemon drop?"

"Ha…uh…no thanks."

Dumbledore took his time unwrapping his sweet and slowly leaned back in his chair. "Miss Weasley I'm vaguely aware that there were other students out the night you were caught by Filch."

Vaguely? What was that supposed to mean? Vaguely…pssh…

"Really?"

"Yes, it…I can take it from here Minerva, private matters, you know."

McGonagall nodded swiftly and walked out, unscathed by the brush-off.

"It was on the map. Misters Malfoy, Zabini and Darnel."

Ginny smiled. Darnel! Xavier Darnel, THAT'S who that was! "Yes sir."

"It has come to my attention, or rather, Fawkes' attention, that a student has been receiving owls quite early in the morning. That's when Fawkes likes to fly about."

Ginny didn't know what do say, so she nodded.

"This student is Draco Malfoy. Fawkes intercepted an illegal letter to him this morning." Dumbledore handed Ginny the rolled parchment.

"…Sir?"

"Read." He explained.

Ginny unrolled the illegal letter.

'Draco-

It's done. Many of us have escaped this morning, and are hidden somewhere in muggle-Surrey. It won't be long before we'll be able to go out, undisguised, and do the work of our Lord.

They may want you to stay at the castle, but you must go to the Manor over the Winter Holidays.

Things are being set in motion, it won't be long now.

-Lucius-'

Ginny was vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging open. She handed Dumbledore the letter back and took a deep gulp. They've escaped…

"What does this have to do with me, sir?"

"The Slytherins, or rather, those three, seem to trust you."

"…"

"They asked you to join their musical group?" Dumbledore added.

"Oh! Yes…yes, but I'm not—"

"You are."

"I am?" Ginny questioned.

"You need to. You must spend time with those three. Mr. Malfoy in particularly. If they trust you to join their band, in time Draco may trust you with other things…other secrets."

"You…you want me to get information?"

"I want you to convince Draco to stay at the school over the holidays and, eventually, to stay at the Order over the summer."

"…You want me to get him to change sides." Ginny confirmed.

Dumbledore nodded. "In a sense, yes."

"I…" Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. "Well I'll try."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's all I ask. You may go back to bed, and so sorry to have woken you at such an unearthly hour."

"It's okay." Ginny smiled. No it's not…I was having an excellent dream…


That's it then…there you go…how was it? REVIEW!