Out of the Shadows

by ugahill

A sequel to "In the Shadows" examining how Draco and Ginny handle their young relationship. Can they balance their beliefs with their hearts?

4. Choices

OOTS 4

"One…one body?"

Draco suddenly felt weak, and his head was spinning. "What do you mean, Mother?"

She laughed softly. "I suppose I am being a bit melodramatic. Come, I'll explain a little later. Right now I wish to leave the chamber." She squeezed his shoulder, and moved towards the doors.

"No."

Narcissa turned back to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What did you say?"

"I said…I said no."

"Draco, this isn't the proper place…"

"If something is going to happen to me, Mother, I would like to know about it. Right now." There were voices swirling in his head. Ginny, telling him that he wasn't like his family…he, asserting he'd do anything to uphold his family name…

Anything?

What she was proposing…the idea was horrifying…

He'd never expected anything like this.

"Mother, please…exactly what is going to happen in seven days time?"

Narcissa sighed. "Draco…you need more time than this to prepare. You can't be expected to know it all right away. Over the course of the next few days, you can learn about it slowly—give you time to become accustomed…"

"NOW. Or I am not leaving this chamber."

"Draco, I…" she came back over to him, her gray eyes searching his determined face. "Alright. I'll tell you what you want to know. But you must brace yourself, the truth will be slightly shocking. You must remember always that what we do is for our race—and is the best solution in the end." She pulled him aside, stroking his hair, and began.

A few moments later, the doors of the Saniescamara screamed open, the blood of the purest of wizarding kind shrieking at the traitorous thoughts swirling around within the soul of one of their own. Faces bubbled in the horrific paint, crying, straining to reach one who would dare betray them.

And Draco Malfoy ran straight past them, slamming the doors back against the wall, barreling to his room. He didn't stop, not to be sick as he wanted to, not to address Tenny, who watched him enter with her ears back—he didn't stop until he'd reached the bag of Floo Powder at the side of his fireplace, threw in the powder, and in a flash of enormous green flame, disappeared from the Manor.

----------------------------

Ginny rested on hand on her palm, staring at the gray, misty evening that had settled on The Burrow.

Harry and Ron had come in from Quidditch, half-soaked, and laughing. They'd quieted slightly with the faces of the three women who sat around the fireplaces, lost in thought.

"Something wrong?" Ron had asked.

Hermione hadn't answered him, just shook her head. Ron pestered them a bit more, but Harry hadn't bothered questioning, just took a nearby book from the table and settled down in one of the chairs near the fire. Ron, finally realizing no one would answer him, disappeared to retrieve one of his comic books, and reappeared in the far corner, chuckling softly to himself of the latest antics of the Mad Muggle.

They'd stayed that way for quite a while, now.

Mrs. Weasley was knitting, her needles flashing furiously before her. Ginny's mum and Hermione had provided comfort, but hadn't answered any questions for her. She still thought she needed to write to Draco, to clear things up—or better yet, to speak to him, though she had no idea how she would do that with Mrs. Malfoy back at the Manor.

And how would she trust him anyway? That was the biggest question.

"Ginny?"

It was Harry who had spoken, laying his book atop his knee and leaning back against his chair. "Are you alright?"

She smiled at him. The idea that this boy, who always worried about others, would never have someone to love him as much as she loved Draco was extremely troubling. "I'm fine Harry."

Someone had better love him. And they had better love him better than anyone ever loved anyone else.

She smiled at her own stupidity. "Actually, I…"

An enormous burst of green flame exploded through the fireplace, interrupting her and toppling Harry's chair on its side. She, her mother, and Ron stood to their feet in surprise, Ron moving forward to help Hermione up, who'd fallen backwards in the blast.

Harry hoisted himself on his elbow as the spinning form of Draco Malfoy stumbled out of the fireplace, moved forward a few steps, and collapsed on top of him.

"What the—" Ron cried.

"Get OFF!" shouted Harry, shoving Draco quickly aside. Draco sat up as Harry pushed him over. Ginny moved forward, confused.

"Draco? What are you…" she couldn't finish as he glanced up at her for the first time.

An expression of pure terror shadowed his face.

"Ginny…" Draco pulled himself up, pushing aside furniture as he stumbled forwards. Ginny rushed to him, bowing down to catch him as he fell a few moments later. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"I…I can't…"

He collapsed in her arms.

----------------------

Draco held onto her tightly, not wanting to let go. His entire body was trembling, shaking as he clung to her.

Ginny pulled away from him, her head shifting slightly as she tilted his chin, trying to catch his eyes. "Draco, what's wrong?" she repeated.

He raised a quivering hand to his face, brushing his hair aside. His voice wasn't steady.

"I c-can't…"

"Draco? Draco, what's wrong, you're scaring me!"

He felt his knees weaken, and he bent to the ground. "I…I…"

"DRACO!"

Tears were rolling down Ginny's face. "You're really scaring me, Draco! What's wrong, what's the matter? Please tell me!"

"T-the room…t-the s-sacrifice…they want m-me..."

"What?"

"My Mother…she'd mentioned it before…that I was important…that I was needed. I h-had a role to fill. I didn't understand what it meant before…I…I…can't…"

There was a burning pain in his stomach. "I can't…"

The heat rose to his chest, spreading throughout his body. "I can't…" he heard himself whisper.

Darkness engulfed him.

----------------------------------

"…don't know what to bloody think, this. What on earth could be the matter with him?"

"I never thought Malfoy'd be so scared out his mind he'd actually faint. Bit like my third year, that. Guess he finally knows how it feels."

That was Potter's whiny voice.

Draco's eyes shot open. Ginny was bending over him, glancing towards the corner. In the distance, Granger was standing beside Potter, who had his hands tucked in his pockets. Both were covered in soot.

Weasley stood next him, a smirk on his face. "Speaking of the Sleeping Coward…"

"Shut up, Weaselbeak."

Ginny whirled around, her hair flying out in a scarlet curtain. "DRACO! Oh my god, are you alright?"

Potter raised an eyebrow, walking over towards them. "You really gave Ginny a scare there, m…Malfoy. What happened to you?"

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" he snapped.

"DRACO!" Ginny cried, "what in the BLOODY HELL is going on?"

He stared at her a moment. She had her arms crossed, but her face was a white as a sheet, her abundant freckles glaring at him. Her eyes were reddened around the edges.

"Not with them," he hissed, nodding towards Potter. "Make them go."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "What…"

"Go," Ginny said, turning to them. "And shut the door behind you."

Weasley frowned. "Ginny…"

"GO."

"Granger can stay," said Draco suddenly.

The room went completely silent. Granger's eyes widened. Potter and Weasley both stared at him in shock. It was really rather satisfying, but Draco didn't have time to bother enjoying it. "Let Granger stay."

Ginny shrugged.

"Wait one moment," said Weasley darkly, but Potter put a hand on his arm. "Let's go mate. No funny business, Malfoy," he said over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut behind them.

"Can you put a sound proofing charm on the room?" Draco asked Granger. She nodded, and pulled her wand from her pocket.

"Echo regenerum."

There was a sound like air being sucked through a sealed cave. His voice echoed slightly when he spoke again.

"I know you have to tell them, but I want to make sure one part of this is understood completely. This doesn't leave this house as being from my lips, is that understood? If anyone finds out I've revealed this, especially to you, then you, Potter, Weasley and Ginny will be in very serious danger. You found out from anyone you want…but me."

Granger nodded warily, her eyebrows furrowing. "What is all of this about?"

He set his lips. I never in a million years believed I'd be speaking about something like this so frankly to a mudblood. How could things have gone so wrong?

Ginny sat beside him, taking a hand in her own. His doubts seemed to vanish as he stared at her worried face.

"Last year," he began softly, "when I returned to the Manor to discover my aunt had been…staying in our house, I overheard her plans to attack Hogwarts as she described them to my Mother."

Ginny's eyes tightened slightly at this. Draco had chosen not to reveal those plans until only a few hours before the Dementor attack—his mother found it admirable, but Ginny had hated him for it. He hadn't told Narcissa, but it was actually a decision he regretted significantly.

Right now, however, regrets of the past were irrelevant.

"My Mother questioned the nature of the attack—and wondered how the Slytherins were going to escape. When Bellatrix seemed to brush off that notion, my Mother warned her—threatened her really—and reminded her that the Slytherin children were important.

"She mentioned me in particular, about my importance, but I only thought she was referring to me because I was her son. All she said was that we were needed.

"I didn't think much of it at the time…but it's different now…everything's different!" he said, clenching his teeth. "How could I not have seen it before?"

"What about it is different, Malfoy? What's happened?" asked Granger, a serious expression on her face.

"When I returned to the Manor last night—I…I…" he shuddered.

"What?" pressed Ginny.

"I saw…him."

Ginny's eyes widened. Granger's breath seemed to catch in her throat. "You don't mean…V-Voldemort?"

Draco swallowed, and nodded. "The Death Eaters, they came. My Mother led them. She did horrible things. And she mentioned—in seven days time…"

"What?"

"When He was gone, she found me hiding. She wanted to wait to tell me, but I insisted…I forced her to tell me…"

"What did she tell you?" asked Granger patiently.

"She told me…everything…"

"Everything?"

"Everything." He took a deep breath, and began.

------------------------------

"What is going on in there?" said Ron, tapping his fingers on the table. Harry played with the makeshift Snitch they'd been using earlier, tossing it up into the air and catching it lightly with the tips of his long fingers. Ron had never noticed before, probably because he was so much taller when they stood side by side, but Harry had gained some height here and there. He was thin, and built, though in a sinewy way, and his fingers and arms especially seemed longer.

Perfect for Quidditch, and for controlling a wand. Both of which Harry was keenly good at.

"Y'know, if that were real and you could do that, it'd be wicked. I bet you could."

Harry stopped tossing the ball into the air, staring at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"What? You don't think you could? I know you could, as good as you are as a Seeker. I wish I could do it."

"Don't you think it'd be a bit of showing off?"

"Only if you were doing it in the middle of the halls at Hogwarts or something. Otherwise I think it'd be good practice."

His friend grinned, the smile causing the edge of his eyes to crinkle. It was good to see; Harry very rarely smiled these days.

"I should probably ruffle my hair about too," he said softly with a chuckle. "Although, you do that quite enough for the both of us."

"I do not!" said Ron indignantly.

"Oh no? What about after the Quidditch Cup last year? And the year before?"

"My hair was a mess!"

"So…you made it more of a mess, is that it?"

"No, I…" Ron felt his face turning red. "Alright, there wasn't any point to fixing it, so might as well ruffle it up a bit to make it more comfortable."

Harry had one eyebrow raised; after a moment he went back to tossing the fake snitch in the air, the grin still on his face.

"What are they talking about?" Ron hissed, setting his chin atop his hand.

"Must be something rather important," said Harry absently, eyes glued to the task at hand. "For Hermione to have cast a soundproofing charm."

"She cast a soundproofing charm?" Ron turned to the door. "No WONDER it seemed so quiet in there! Say, how did you know that?"

Harry paused in his snitch tossing again. "Didn't you hear the sound? Like the seal on vacuum? That's customary for a soundproofing charm."

Ron stared at him. Harry had always been fairly clever, but somehow, over the course of the past year, he'd become downright Hermione-like in his knowledge of the magical arts. Not that he'd have any reason not to—Harry seemed to inadvertently be capable of anything, and he'd only gotten worse as he got older.

"What's a 'vacuum?'" Ron asked.

The door behind them clicked open. Ron heard something like a squelching sound as it pulled from the frame.

Hermione came out, her face very grave. "Harry, Ron…we need to talk."

Ron lifted his chin from his hands; Harry missed the snitch; it soared passed him as he sat up in his chair. "What is it, Hermione?"

"We've got a problem—or rather, Draco does. And we have to find a way to solve it, or we're all in trouble."

Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Harry, who was staring at her with a troubled expression. "Is it Voldemort?"

She nodded. "But more…so much more. We've got to hurry. We don't have much time."

---------------------------------

Ginny sat beside Draco, holding softly to his hand. Hermione had given him a Sleeping Draught she'd cooked up at his request. Now he was sleeping—finally.

She stared down at his long fingers, which were still clammy.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to look directly at his face. Her ears were still ringing with what he'd told her and Hermione.

I am supposed to be the first of a group of Voldemort's followers to take on his powers. I will become him, and he will become me. The First of the new generation of Death Eaters. But to become like him, I have to voluntarily give up a part of me. I don't understand it…I don't understand exactly how. But I understand why...

Ginny didn't understand. His mother had seemed so protective of him—why would Narcissa Malfoy allow her son to be taken away from her?

How could she allow even a part of him to be destroyed?

She swallowed.

Draco stirred for a moment. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat.

"Draco…why does it have to be so hard for you?" she brushed the hair from his forehead.

He's suffered so much…

But something within her felt uneasy. Draco was scared by what he'd seen, certainly…but as he'd been explaining what had happened, he'd tried to rationalize it, as he always did. Even in the face of something horrible, he'd continued to defend his family's honor and beliefs.

There was a nervous fluttering in her chest. Why am I so frightened of what is to come? He left his house as quickly as he could. Certainly he wouldn't choose to go back there…to go back to Voldemort.

Certainly not…Certainly not…

Certainly…

-------------------------------------

"So that's it, then? A great bloody Death Eater ceremony?" Ron looked lazily at Hermione, seemingly unconcerned.

"That's IT? It doesn't bother you that Voldemort is going to be taking children and turning them into his slaves?"

"You can't be a slave if you go willingly."

"You'd say the same thing about House Elves, wouldn't you?" she said sharply. "After all, they seem to like what they're about, right, Ron? They choose to be captives against their better judgment."

Ron opened and shut his mouth for a moment; if he was going to add anything, he thought better of it.

Hermione turned to Harry. He was staring at her silently, his face pale, his scar a jagged blue streak. "What do you think?"

He heaved a sigh. "I think Ron's right, Hermione."

"WHAT?"

"I don't see the 'children' as being like House Elves. House Elves haven't experienced the difference between slavery and freedom, so they don't know any better. They don't really know there are better opportunities out there for them.

"But the children of the Death Eaters do. Most of them have been to Hogwarts, have met people like you and me and Ron, and so they know what choices are out there for them. Yet they're going to this 'ceremony' to give themselves over just the same."

"But…but Harry! They haven necessarily been taught what's right! Look at Malfoy! It took a very significant event to change him."

"Change him?" spat Ron suddenly. "He hasn't changed. He hasn't changed one bit!"

"I'm sorry?" said Hermione crossly. "Is he not in love with your sister? Does he not have a better disposition? We've been over this before."

"In particulars, Hermione, he might be trying to improve, but in general he's still the same Malfoy. Has he decided to give up on the Dark Arts, and his family? Not at all! He's still devoted to You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. Who wants to bet he's still willing to go through with this ceremony!"

"And what about Ginny?"

"What ABOUT Ginny?" Ron shook his head. "He might care about her—he might even love her—but obviously not enough to want to be with her always! Everything he does just ends up hurting her more! Look at all the pain and worry he's caused her!"

"Sometimes," Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes, "people say horrid things to people they really care about, because they don't know any better. Sometimes they don't tell people they're in love with the absolute truth, because they don't realize that their actions actually do nothing more than hurt the person they care about."

Beside him, Harry coughed.

Ron stared at her, his eyes widening. "Wha…bah…that…not…I…wh…"

"In any case, it's never as easy as the black and white you want to make it," she sniffed.

"No, it's not," said Harry seriously. "But in a way, the choice still has to be left up to the chooser. What are we going to do—barge into the middle of the ceremony and demand that the Death Eaters let their children go?"

"Well, no," she replied slowly. "But we have to find some way…"

"I think we should tell Dumbledore," Harry said. "He will have a better idea of what to do. We can't just go around saving the world on our own. I think we've all learned that."

Hermione nodded. "You're right, Harry."

"Then I'll send an owl to Dumbledore right away," Ron said, his face still red. "I'll use Pig, he goes pretty quickly."

"Let's just hope," Hermione said as Ron headed towards his room, "that Professor Dumbledore will have an answer."

----------------------------------

There was a dim light surrounding him.

Something warm was in his hand.

He opened his eyes. A glittering mass of red was in front of him, shining in the dim sunlight of the early morning.

Ginny's face swam into view, tilted to the side, her eyes closed peacefully. She had his hand in her own, her fingers curled around his.

He smiled at her. She looked so peaceful.

His smile faded slowly. I'll never be able to bring her this kind of peace. She can sleep because she feels safe…but she feels safe here, not just because she's with me.

Draco withdrew his fingers, trying not to disturb her.

Whatever fate lay in store for him, she could not be a part of. He didn't want to disturb her peace. He probably shouldn't have come here in the first place. But he'd had no other choice. When his Mother had told him—told him he was essentially to become Lord Voldemort—he'd needed to get away.

He still couldn't believe it. He'd figured the children of the Death Eaters would serve the Dark Lord in the same way their parents had—but never imagined it could extend this far.

For us…for all of us—to take a part of him inside us…to allow him to destroy a piece of our soul…

Granger had called it monstrous.

What in him would change? What part of him would be destroyed?

Ginny stirred next to him.

He realized with some surprise that he'd had no intention of staying here. In fact, the idea of turning his Mother down had never crossed his mind. He'd never considered not being a part of the ceremony. It was his duty, wasn't it?

Isn't it?

The idea of it shook him to the core. It terrified him beyond anything he'd felt before, including the bats, the manticore, the Dementors—even his Aunt. But he would still go through with it, if it meant upholding his beliefs.

And, he realized, he did believe.

And Ginny didn't.

With him, she wasn't safe. No one was. He had to leave here, lest his mother come looking. He wished he hadn't said anything to anyone. If Granger said anything to anyone beyond Potter and the Weasel, they would know from whom it came.

There was writing desk on the nearby table. It would be easier to write her a letter—she wouldn't be able to read his face. He could still leave her some assurance, some hope, that all he felt for her would come be stronger than anything the Death Eaters might do to him.

He slipped out of the bed, looking back to her sleeping form one last time, scribbled out a short note, sealed it, and quietly slipped through the door.

---------------------------------

"This is very serious. He is attempting this quite a bit sooner than I expected."

"You've known he could do this?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, staring at the Headmaster in consternation. He had sent them a reply last evening before they went to bed, letting them know he would be apparating at The Burrow in the morning.

"Of course, Molly. We have been aware of all the types of magic Voldemort might try to employ to increase his power. We just never expected he would try this so quickly. It requires a great deal of concentration—and certainly more Death Eaters than he has now. He would have to rely upon them for his ultimate protection, and we presumed he would attempt to deal with Harry first, since he perceives him as the greatest threat. Perhaps I have given too little credit."

"What do you think they'll do?" asked Harry.

"I am not certain. The choice of becoming a part of Voldemort seems rather extreme, but then again, most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, and ambition is in their blood."

"How they could choose to do something like that is beyond me," sighed Ron. "They're all mad as hatters."

"What they believe is what they believe," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I must inform the Order—they need to know about this as soon as possible. There is the chance we might be able to stop the ceremony from occurring, particularly as it is predicated upon the full moon.

"But you'll be short one member, right?" said Ron.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "or perhaps we have a greater asset than Voldemort imagines."

"Wow…" Ron murmured after a moment of silence. "I never considered that."

"In any case, we must be prepared. Try and keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy. I'll speak with Arthur should there be any further developments.

Harry and the others nodded.

Dumbledore nodded to them one last time. "And under no circumstances are any of you to attempt to find a way to stop this on your own. Do you understand?"

The trio nodded, looking puzzled.

"Of course they won't," said Mrs. Weasley, with her arms crossed.

"No one. I want to make myself perfectly clear. Many, many things can go wrong with this plan—I don't want to see you in the middle of it," Dumbledore's eyes had lost their customary twinkle—in fact, he'd not smiled at them from the moment he apparated into Mrs. Weasley's living room. "You remember the Ministry, of course."

Harry stiffened.

"Yes, Headmaster," said Hermione quickly, catching sight of his face.

"Let me know if you learn anything else," the Headmaster said. He turned back to the, giving them a reassuring look as he caught sight of their faces.

"Try to be strong. These are merely trials to prepare you for what lies ahead. You must take them as they come."

They stepped back from him, Ron and Hermione nodding, while Harry looked at the floor. Dumbledore raised his wand, and disappeared.

"Why does everyone always have to bring up the Ministry?" said Harry heatedly.

"Er…don't take it personally, mate," said Ron. "He wasn't directing it at you, just pointing out what happened, so we wouldn't forget."

"We won't forget," replied Harry angrily.

His friends glanced at one another.

"We should probably wake Ginny and Malfoy," said Hermione.

"DRACO!"

"Don't have to look far," Ron replied.

They came around the corner, managing to step back as Ginny barreled down the hall, flinging open the door. "DRACO!"

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Draco's gone!" she cried. "I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone! I found this!" she held out a letter addressed to her in Malfoy's elegant handwriting.

"Well…he has to be around here somewhere," said Hermione. "After all, we were in the parlor, so he couldn't have Flooed from there."

"He hasn't learned to apparate yet, has he?" said Harry.

Ginny shook her head. "And he came through the Floo, so he has no broomstick."

"Could he have Flooed in the night?"

"He took a Sleeping Draught I concocted. He should have slept for nearly eight hours, at least," said Hermione.

"Any chance it wasn't as strong as you thought it was?" asked Ron.

"NO," replied Hermione huffily.

"What about his mum's connections in the country?" Harry said. "Could he have snuck out to them?"

Ginny shook her head. "He refused to tell me about them. Though I bet it's the Crumholtzes, they're the only wealthy family in this area. In any case, he hated them—and I don't think he'd go back there anyways, they'd probably wonder why he was at The Burrow."

"What about the village? Are there any public Floo systems down there?"

"There's a bakery…and a confectioners. And the meat market. But he'd have to have some Floo powder, wouldn't he? And its not exactly a "wizarding" kind of place."

"Well, we'll spread out and have a look," said Hermione. "He can't have gone far."

-------------------------

An hour later, they returned to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley looking rather distressed. Ginny was seated at the kitchen table, thumbing the letter in her hands.

Harry walked in, putting his broom aside. "He wasn't at the town. No one had seen a pale, blond boy walk by."

Ron was standing near the fridge. "He didn't go to the Crumholtzes either. Not that I got a chance to really ask them anything. Their House Elf had me off the property faster than I could blink. And Hermione says none of the other families have seen him either."

"Where could he have gone too? Surely he's not walking to the Manor!" said Ginny, sniffling.

"Where could who have gone? To what Manor?" asked her father, wiping his hands on a cloth. Hermione was behind him, looking exhausted.

"I asked the back neighbors, but they haven't seen him either," she said, collapsing into a chair.

"Seen who?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Malfoy," said Harry.

"Oh, Malfoy!" said Mr. Weasley. "I saw him just a few moments ago. Flooed home. I thought you knew."

"WHAT!" screeched Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at the same time.

Mr. Weasley nearly dropped his handkerchief. "What? He stopped by my shed, asked if I could light a fire in my fireplace—said he didn't want to disturb the house—borrowed some Floo powder, and left."

"AND YOU LET HIM?" yelled Ginny.

"ARTHUR! HOW COULD YOU?" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"What? What did I do?" said Mr. Weasley, looking baffled. "I thought I was being helpful!"

"How long ago did he leave?" asked Hermione.

"About an hour…he said he really had to go home, that it was important. Was I wrong to let him go?"

"YES!"
"No, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "O-okay."

Mrs. Weasley placed a soothing hand on Ginny's head. "You'll just have to see if you can find a way to contact him. In the meantime, why don't you read what he left you?"

Ginny glanced up at the group, who were all staring at her with worried expressions. "Right…thanks."

She rose, trudging slowly towards the stairs, trying to avoid their faces, especially Ron, who looked more triumphant than vexed.

She sealed her room with the same soundproofing charm she'd seen Hermione use earlier, and glanced down at the letter, turning it over and over in her hands, afraid to open it.

"What if this is goodbye?" she murmured softly. She thought Draco was still in the middle of everything—but what if he had decided?"

She ripped through the seal quickly, unfolding the letter.

Ginny,

Everything has come to an end. There is no choice for me now. I am bound by what my family has done to be who I am.

But I don't want to fall into this. Know that. Because of you, I will go unwillingly, no matter what the consequence might be or how I feel about my heritage. I just simply have no choice.

But I will not abandon you, I promise.

I promise.

Draco.

Ginny stared at the letter in her hand. The writing was harshly scratched—written in agitation, the pen streaking across the paper. He'd not even sealed it properly, the badge's indentation was twisted in the sealing wax.

"Draco," she whispered.

Where has this gone wrong?

She had always known, even before the attack on Hogwarts, when she first realized that the loathing she had felt for him had become something else, that a relationship between them would be difficult. But after listening to him mourn over and over the state of his family, of his name, after trying to see things from his point of view, she was confused as to who needed to change.

Everyone tells ME I should be more understanding. But here he is, willing to absorb a part of You-Know-Who into himself, simply because of a NAME!

She threw herself back on her bed, crumpling the letter in her hand. "Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn!"

Below her, Harry was probably getting ready to sit down with her brother and Hermione for supper. I suppose I am downplaying his beliefs—after all, Harry would never give up his family name. It means too much to him. Why should he ask such a thing of Draco?

But Harry's name wasn't associated with evil. His parents hadn't committed evil acts. Lily and James Potter had fought for the protection of each other, and for the protection of their son. No innocents had died at their hands.

Lucius Malfoy had never considered the state of his family, just the nature of the pureblood race. And though Narcissa cared about Draco, it was obvious that her son's life wasn't as important as his purpose.

She was not fighting against heritage. She was fighting against a way of life—a history of darkness.

Suddenly the truth became very clear.

It isn't my family that has been in the wrong—it isn't I that has been in the wrong. Draco is the one who needs to understand that he has a choice in the matter—and that he has a choice to make. No matter how much his name means to him, Draco will have to find a way to overcome what his family is, because if he doesn't, then what he'll become is Voldemort. And not just a part of him. He'll become him completely.

He HAS to understand that—otherwise…otherwise, we can't go on…

She knew what she had to do.

-----------------------------

Draco tapped his fingers on the windowpane. The sun was slowly setting, causing fuzzy shadows to crawl atop the perfectly polished glass.

Six more days until the 'ceremony'.

His Mother hadn't spoken to him when he returned. He'd acknowledged her with a nod of his head, and went directly to his room.

She hadn't bothered to come up, probably believing it would be best to leave him alone for a bit.

After all, her greatest fear had been relieved. Rather than leaving for good, he'd come back.

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. His brief visit to The Burrow had brought back the warmth he felt over the holidays, but it hadn't soothed him. Only the Manor brought him that comfortable sort of peace.

But that didn't change the ache he felt, leaving Ginny. He hoped she had received his letter. It would in no way make up for what he was going to sacrifice, but at least it would soothe her a little until this entire process was complete. What he'd written was the truth. He had no intention of giving up the part of him that loved her. It was too important—it was his life.

Unless he had no choice in the matter…but then, it wouldn't matter…

There was a tap at his door.

"Enter."

Christopheson, one of the few wizarding servants who worked for them, stuck his head in, his nose pointed upwards. Obviously his mother wanted someone a bit more reliable than a House Elf to check up on him. "Master Draco, a letter has arrived for you, sir."

"Thank you." He nodded towards the mantle.

Christopheson entered, carrying a silver platter with the letter atop it. "You may want to consider opening it sir," he said cordially as he placed it atop the fireplace. "it came with a very tatty looking owl." He looked pointedly at Draco for a moment, sniffed, and left the room quickly.

Draco pulled himself from his armchair and moved to the mantle, taking the thin, brown-wrapped envelope into his hands carefully. His name was written delicately on the front.

Ginny…

Dear Draco,

I hope this letter reaches you in time. If you, I'd like to see you just once more. Please meet me in the courtyard of St. Ettington. I'll be there at eleven.

Please come if you can.

Love,

Ginny

He stared at the letter a moment, his brows furrowed.

St. Ettington is only a few miles from here…

Why would she run the risk? It was easy for him, but for her…

He needed to see her. He wanted to. He rose moving over to his desk, and took out a quill.

----------------------

"I've sent a letter to Draco," Ginny said briskly, walking into the kitchen. Harry was seated at the table, a large book propped open, his fingers twirling through his wild black hair.

He glanced up from his studies. "What?"

"Hmmm," she leaned over his shoulder. "Still into Hogwarts, A History? Hermione will be pleased, at least."

"Considering what happened last year, it might be worth it to know a bit more about the school," he said with a grin. "And Ron, of all people, said it was a good read. Now what was that?"

Ginny sat at the table with two crackers. "I've sent a letter to Draco. I'm going to meet him tonight. I think I'm going to ask him to come and live with us."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think he might say yes?"

She paused, her cracker raised to her mouth. "What do you mean? If I can get him to live here, then perhaps I can finally convince him that Dumbledore is right."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't get my hopes up, Gin. He's turned you down before. And he IS a Malfoy."

She set her cracker down, shattering it. "Why do you always have to say that?"

He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Because it's true."

"He will never be able to change if you continue to think that way!"

He frowned. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just giving you an honest answer. The Malfoy family hasn't given me much reason to hope for the better."

"He's not really the one who should give us reason to hope. You're the one who should give him hope."

"What?"

"Harry," Ginny glanced up towards him. "You are the 'hero' in this whole…thing. You're the one people look up to. If you make the effort to get to know Draco—to try and understand him, to encourage him—then perhaps he will make the effort to understand you back. And try for the better."

Harry sighed, shaking his head, and leaned over the table, placing his hands on hers. "Ginny—I'm no hero. And I'm not the one who started this thing in the first place. When Voldemort attacked us—attacked my family—I was placed into the middle."

He shook his head, his wild black fringe swaying over his forehead, shifting past his small, lightning bolt-shaped scar. "But I do understand that my circumstances, and my purpose, made me different from everyone involved, and hopefully, I can do something to prevent him from bringing pain to anyone else.

"Mal--…er, Draco—has been a part of Voldemort's world. That's not my fault, or anyone else who fights against Voldemort. That is the circumstance—or rather choice—of those who desired to follow him.

"It's not we who have to change Malfoy. It is he who needs to change for us. Or rather, for you."

"I'm not sure if he can," she said slowly, staring at him. "Why…why can't you try and find a way to reach him?"

Harry frowned. "Ginny…"

Hermione's words the other night came sharply to her.

"…someone so unassuming, who never really sought to be anything special—just someone who wanted to be normal, because he was never normal before. Someone who's just learned he never will be normal…someone who is expected to be a hero, and who has embraced that… against his better wishes, and without any regard as to what might happen to him because of it…

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, rising from the table. "I guess…I guess I just…don't know who else to blame. I know it's not your fault."

"It's not anyone's fault. You just have to do what you can to persuade him. It will take every last bit of resolve you have to fight whatever's in him that draws him to the dark. And if you can't, then it will take every last bit of resolve you have to let him go."

She moved towards the mantelpiece. "What if I can't?" she whispered.

"Ginny…" Harry stood, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was exactly what Charlie used to do, when she would come in, crying, because Fred, George and Ron had left her behind. "I'm sorry this is so difficult for you. I'm sure if you keep trying, you'll find a way to make it work."

She sighed, letting herself be drawn into the comfort of his arms. It had been quite a while since she felt that safe and warm. "Thank you, Harry."

"Ginny…" Ron came through the kitchen door, a letter in hand, followed by Hermione. "Is everything…alright?" he asked as he took in the two of them, a grin spreading across his face.

Harry released Ginny, who crossed her arms. "Fine, Ron."

"We received a letter for you," said Hermione, holding out a thick piece of parchment. 'Ginny' was scrawled across the front in Draco's elegant hand. Hermione had an eyebrow raised. "It came from Malfoy's gray eagle owl."

"Thank you," said Ginny. "And thank you, Harry, for everything."

Harry smiled softly. "You're welcome, Ginny."

She clutched her letter to her chest, and left the room.

-------------------------

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione briskly, crossing her arms after Ginny had left the room. "Was she alright?"

"She was fine," said Harry, seating himself at the table. "She just needed a little support."

"Well, the more 'support' you want to give her, the better," said Ron snidely. "I fully encourage your 'support.'"

Hermione glared at him.

"Ron," said Harry seriously. "Nothing was going on. Ginny is in love with Malfoy and she was really worried about him. No amount of your wishing otherwise is going to change that. From time to time she needs someone to talk to, and today, I happened to be here to listen."

"With your arms?"

"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione. "You really are unbelievably thick sometimes."

"Look, everyone here would be much better with the idea of a 'Harry-Ginny' match than a 'Draco-Ginny' match. Why should I be the thick one if I'm just voicing the opinion of everyone?"

"Who would be better off with that?" said Hermione. "That's your opinion. Harry should be able to love who he wants to."

"That's right," said Harry, looking slightly irritated. "I'd like to think I had some say in who I want to fall in love with, if I fall in love at all, not just pick someone because everyone wants me to."

"Never mind," said Ron, slightly flustered. "Forget I said anything."

"Fine," returned Hermione and Harry in unison.

They sat at the table for a moment in silence.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly. "Why would you say 'fall in love at all?' Don't you think you can fall in love with someone?"

"I've tried it before," Harry snorted. "Not a big fan of what happened last time, so I don't think I'll bother with it again."

"Just because Cho disappointed you doesn't mean you don't deserve to fall in love again, right Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "He's not going to let everyone influence him, remember? If he wants to love someone, he'll decided who and when and where."

"Have I mentioned just how insensitive you are?"

"Can we stop talking about this please?" said Harry. "My love life isn't exactly something I'd like to put up for discussion—and it's the least of what we should be worrying about right now.

"Besides," he said, toying with a knickknack on the tabletop. It looked like a plucked chicken with three feet. "There's no guaranteeing anything these days, so why take the risk?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ron. Hermione's gaze was locked onto the cup in front of her.

"Look…Voldemort's not going anywhere. And from everything we know, we—or rather I—am the one who is going to have to face him in the end. If that is the case, who knows what the outcome will be? It's safer for everyone—Ginny, or anyone else—if I don't have someone I'm attached to."

"Don't say that, Harry. You'll win this. We'll defeat Voldemort, in the end…"

"Do you know that for certain?" he asked seriously.

"Of course not…but…you have to have faith. Right, Hermione? Hermione?"

She started. "What?"

"Isn't that right? No giving up hope?"

She paused for a moment, tapping her cup softly, and finally looked up. "Don't give up on anything, Harry. Whenever you don't look for it, that is when it is most likely to be there."

He and Ron exchanged confused glances. "What?"

Hermione looked between the two of them. "What were you talking about?"

"Er, fate, destiny, destroying You-Know-Who once and for all…nothing important," said Ron with a half-grin.

"Of course I believe those things are important, Ronald!"

"There we are," said Ron, looping his arms over the two of them. "All of this will work itself out in the end." He glanced behind him, where Ginny had gone.

"I just hope we can say the same for her."

---------------------------

Ginny toyed with the thin piece of parchment. Draco had scrawled, in his neat hand:

I'll be there.

Before, she would have been overjoyed. But the talk she'd had with Harry had placed a few doubts in her mind.

Is this the right thing to do? To ask so much of Draco?

She grinned. Blasted Potter. He really WAS annoyingly right all the time.

But he was also her friend. And he did everything he could to see to it that she was safe and protected.

And he's going to have to do more.

But she was also going to have to do more to help him as well.

She crumpled the parchment in her palm. "I can't keep this up, Draco. So I'll leave it for you to decide," she whispered to herself.

Her wardrobe contained her best cloak. Something suitable for night flight.

And for final choices.

------------------------------------

"My dark cloak—the one with the hood," Draco told Tenny. "Be quick. And inform my Mother that I'm going for a walk around the village. I'll only be a few moments."

The House Elf nodded. "Of course, Master Draco sir. But…why is you going to town so late?"

He smiled slightly. Despite her attitude, it was nice to have someone to tell. "I'm going to meet the young miss."

Tenny's grin grew by three lengths. "I'll make sure Lady knows Master Draco is only walking, nothing more."

"Thank you, Tenny."

She smiled, and took his cold fingers in her soft, leathery hand. With a snap, they were in the front of the Manor.

Tenny released him. "Good luck to you, Master Draco sir," she said.

Within a few moments he was heading towards the quiet center of Ettington Town.

---------------------------------------

When Ginny told Harry what she was planning to do, he'd said nothing, just watched her with sad eyes.

The funny part is, he has no idea how big a part he plays in all this.

"Can you cover for me? Just tell my Mum that I went out to walk about St. Catchpole for a little while. If Ron or Hermione asks, I suppose you can tell them…"

"I won't tell them anything. It's really none of their business, except your safety," he said softly. "Be careful, Ginny. And make sure you come straight back, or I'm coming to Malfoy Manor after you."

"I'm certain they'll love that," she grinned.

"I'm certain I won't," he said back with a smile.

St. Ettington was something of a journey by broomstick, but Harry had lent her the Firebolt, which cut the time nearly in half. The village of St. Ettington, which rose nearby the Manor, was quiet this time of night. Ginny landed softly on the outskirts of town, wrapped the Firebolt in her cloak, and headed for the courtyard.

It was only a few paces into the center of town, nearer the village shops than any of the homes. A great stone gazebo rose in the center of it, a statue of a fanged serpent wrapped around a lion gracing the arc-like top. It was one of the few wizarding monuments left that everyday muggles would use for themselves without knowing the difference.

Draco stood at the edge of the courtyard, a black cloak wrapped around him, the hood pulled atop his head. Ginny stopped for a moment.

He looks just like a Death Eater.

Ginny's heart began to beat faster as he turned, a small smile spreading across his face.

She trotted over to him, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came," she said softly, pulling the hood from his head.

"How could I not come? Flying all the way to St. Ettington—are you mad?"

"Your last letter frightened me. Draco, the whole thing frightens me!"

He sighed. "I didn't mean to make the situation sound so dire. But I just wanted you to know I wouldn't be available to see you for a little while."

"Draco…have you spoken with your Mother?

"No. I think at this particular moment, she wants me to sort things out for myself." He grimaced. "I don't believe it would matter anyway."

Because she's the one who started this whole thing…

"What about Dumbledore? I'm certain he could protect you."

"So I could do what…live with your family for the rest of my life? Where would I go? No one of my association would care to see me—and neither would anyone of yours. I wouldn't belong anywhere."

"Of course they'd accept you…" Images of Harry's distasteful expression flashed through her mind. "And in any case, you'd be with me."

"As nice as that sounds, Ginny, the reality is we're both too young to spend the entirety of our time together right now, or pretending we could do what we might if we were five years older. We can't live on our own, and until we can, I'll be bound to your family, and…Potter…and others like him. None of whom will accept me."

"But Draco, you can't just go back to your family because you think that they're more accepting of you! You'll be turned into—into—who knows what! You'll be scarred for life! Would you really want that fate just because right now staying with me is uncomfortable for you? Draco, do you have any idea of what you're proposing to give up?"

"OF COURSE I DO!" he yelled.

"Then why are you going?"

He turned away from her.

She grasped his arm, whirling him around. "You're giving up me. Do you care at all? Is that really what you want? Did none of last year—does this not matter to you anymore?"

"No…YES! Of course it does. I…just don't know. I don't know what I want anymore. I just…I just want it all to make sense again." He sank to the ground, his thick black cloak falling in folds around him. "I want everything to make sense again. I want my family to care for me again. I want you to love me…I want to love you back…I want..."

"You want everything," she said in exasperation, kneeling down and running a hand through his thick silver hair. "But…you can't have everything. Don't you see that? So you have to choose."

He looked up at her. "Choose."

Ginny felt a lump rise in her throat. "Choose."

"I can't…"

She steeled herself, and rose. "If you don't, then you already have."

"What?"

"If you don't make the decision yourself, then you already have. You've let your family choose for you."

"I haven't. I make my own decisions."

"No, you don't. You let others make them for you. Me, your Mother, your Father—even your Aunt. It is what others do that dictates Draco Malfoy's actions, not his own free will."

He rose, his eyes narrowing. "That's not true. I thought you knew me better than that."

Ginny laughed sharply. "I guess not. Of course, I've spent the better part of a year falling in love with you, but apparently I know NOTHING about you."

"Ginny…"

"Well, for your information, I know a bit of something. I know there is a part of you that wants to be like your father. I know you're proud of your family. I know you believe purebloods are superior.

"And most importantly, I know that you've been trying to find a way to balance all those feelings with your feelings for me—trying to understand my world without having to give up yours. And I've tried to understand that, tried to make it work. But I think we both know why it doesn't."

She stood, and took a deep breath. "Because the truth is, you can't. You cannot have them both. You knew, back in the Hospital Wing when you promised you would try, that you wouldn't be able to—and that eventually you would have to choose.

"I know your family has been everything you are. It is your past—it is what made you who you are today. I cannot be your past—I can only be your future. I can live with everything that you are, Draco. I can live with your family, with your father and your mother—with what they were…even with what your aunt was. But I cannot live with the future that lies before you if you choose them. I cannot live with Voldemort. I had to do it once…I will not do it again!"

He flinched as she said this, his eyes wide.

"It has come down to this, Draco…it is either me or that…that life. Where does your heart lie? If you future is going to involve me in any way, it will have to change—today. If it doesn't, then, no matter how much I care for you, I cannot be with you. I won't allow Harry or anyone else I love to get hurt because you can't make up your mind."

"Anyone else you love?"

"I cannot—WILL NOT—abandon him, even if it means I abandon you. I'm not going to allow your family to choose for me. Because this isn't just your choice—it is mine as well. A choice between my heart and my soul. Better I have a broken heart than I lose my soul forever."

"So that's it then," he said slowly. "You get to keep everything, while I lose everything?"

"Do you really lose everything?" she asked seriously.

"Yes. Yes, Ginny, yes."

"And what is it you lose?" she continued vehemently. "A father who doesn't love you, just what you represent? A Mother who would sell you to the dark because it is more important to her than her only son?"

"Watch yourself," he hissed.

"I do not think so, Draco. I'm tired of 'watching myself' when you're about. Your family is nothing more than a vessel of Voldemort, who brings death to everyone. If you want to be that, then I don't want you."

"Then you don't want me," he spat.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her face as calm as she could. "You're right. I don't. Goodbye."

She reached for his hand. Touching him sent shivers up her spine. When she released him, the tiny Slytherin badge in his hand, she allowed herself to glance up at his face.

His expression was unreadable, but his hands were trembling.

Every last bit of resolve…

Harry's words echoed through her head, and suddenly, she felt extremely tired. "I'm sorry…I can't anymore. I can't fight for you anymore. I'm so tired of being lost in you that I can't find my way back to what I know is right."

His gray eyes were locked on her face.

"You don't have to worry about me. My family, Harry…they will take care of me. He'll see to it that I'm safe. He'll protect me, so you don't have to be torn anymore."

Every last bit of resolve…

She turned from him. Mentioning Harry had been an attempt to hurt him, but to her surprise, she found she believed what she had said, and it brought the strength she needed to reach the gate, where she could leave him behind.

It took everything she had to reach the edge of town, where Harry's Firebolt was lying on the ground, still wrapped in her cloak.

She slid down next to it, one hand on the broomstick, and cried for what seemed an eternity.

--------------------------

Draco stared at his hands, his knees faltering for a moment. He slid down next to the stone gazebo, the shadow of the serpent falling across his face.

He stared down at the badge in his hand.

She had just abandoned him.

For my sake, and for those I love, I won't interfere…

"Do you love me?" he asked the badge softly.

Harry will take care of me…He'll see I'm safe—

He swallowed, trying to push the sound of her voice from his head, the look in her eyes from his mind.

He'd known this day would come. He'd known since the first time he'd realized he loved her that this day would come. But she had been wrong—and he had been wrong.

He hadn't had to choose.

She'd chosen for him.

A choice between my heart and soul…

All around him, the shadows of the trees in the courtyard were shifting, swaying with the thin night air. The lion loomed over him, tangled in the serpent, fighting with all its might to break free.

"Why are you fighting him?" Draco asked the statue softly. "What good does it do you to kill him?"

"No good," echoed a voice from the outskirts of the courtyard. "No good at all."

Who is this mysterious voice coming to soothe (is it soothe?) Draco? OOTS 5 will be coming soon, though I can't guarantee you'll read it…as HBP might have been published by then! But enjoy this soft cliffy—cuz the next few chapters are going to have quite tormented cliffhangers. XD