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?

5. Light Into Dark

OOTS 5—Reading warning: You might not want to read this until after the glory of HBP, because it has a terribly evil cliffhanger and you really might not forgive me…

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

Draco leapt to his feet, wand at the ready.

"The truth is, no matter how much they struggle, there will always be another serpent to replace the one that was lost—and their will always be another lion if this one is killed." Albus Dumbledore walked towards him, his blue eyes locked on the statue.

"This statue has an interesting history. It was constructed after the defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. The Muggles believed it was a commemoration of the Great War that had just been won. In truth, it was constructed by the wizards, to be a constant reminder that the war between those who follow the Dark Arts and those who defend against them would continue to rage, no matter how many battles were won by one side or the other. Because there will always be those who continue to believe in one side or the other. There will always be good and evil. The key to ending the battles lies in everyone's ability to understand one another. Unfortunately, such a task is not easily accomplished."

"That is in the nature of people, isn't it?" asked Draco, pulling to his feet.

"Yes, unfortunately, that is the hallmark of 'people.' But the beauty of 'people' is that they start as 'persons.' Or rather, a person. One soul, who is capable of making a choice for himself and himself alone, without any interference from beyond his own hearts. People can be witless masses, but a person can be an intelligent individual, who carries the weight of the world on his choices and actions."

Dumbledore came up beside him, his hands folded behind his back.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" mumbled Draco.

"I received word that someone might need a bit of looking to, though I'm not quite sure who that might be," he replied cordially. "And I so enjoy the night air in this part of the country that I wasn't able to resist the opportunity."

"Potter," Draco spat. "Well, he was wrong, though no one will believe me about that. No one here needs your help."

"I quite believe you. Harry is very often wrong—more so than anyone imagines, anyhow. The difference between Harry and a great many others is that he tries to learn from his mistakes. If he makes a wrong choice, he tries to correct it in the future by making right ones."

"Well, it doesn't seem to happen much, as everyone in his presence continues to die…"

The Headmaster's eyes tightened for a moment. "That, unfortunately, is more my fault than his. I am afraid I have not protected Harry as I should have…and he has witnessed a great many things that someone so young should not have had to endure. Those were not his choices.

"What is laid before you, Mr. Malfoy, is your choice. Like Harry, your role is indisputably important at this particular moment. Not just for yourself, or Miss Weasley, but for the whole of generations to come."

Draco raised his head. "What?"

"Do you know why—really know why—the battle last year at Hogwarts was won?"

"Because the Slytherins came up and bloody saved everyone, that's why."

"That's right. But who united them? Who drove them to fight against what they'd been taught?"

Draco looked to the ground.

"That's correct. You were the uniting force behind them. You are the one person in the whole of Slytherin House who can change the minds of the people around you for the better. They respect you because of who you are and who your family is; what's more, they are willing to follow you because they respect you as an individual.

"No one else could have motivated them to assist Harry and myself against the Dementors. Despite your 'betrayal' of them, they still believed in you. That is the power you possess, Mr. Malfoy. The power to change the minds and hearts of those that seem immovable. Harry cannot do that. No one else has that strength—save you."

"I can't do that. They chose to follow me because they didn't want to die. This is different."

"Really?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "How? Do you think they want to die now?"

"They have a choice now. They didn't have one then."

"They do?"

"YES!" Draco shouted, pulling to his feet. "They do! We all bloody do, and we all bloody want to go! We all bloody choose to go! And that's despite knowing that you, Ginny, and everyone else that hates us wishes we'd think differently!"

"Hates you? Why would anyone hate you?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no answer. It wasn't a question he'd ever considered someone would ask. Everyone hated the Slytherins, that was a given, and there was no questioning why.

"Do you sincerely believe that Hogwarts, myself, or anyone else is against Slytherin? Never have I considered Slytherin a lesser House than any of its counterparts, not even Gryffindor. As Headmaster, I am forbidden from favoring one House over another, and even if my post did not mandate it, I would never consider one House greater than another anyhow."

"What do you mean? Everyone knows Slytherin is considered, by most at Hogwarts, to be the 'worst' of the Houses."

"If Slytherin has garnered a doubtful reputation, it is not because others dislike it from the beginning. Slytherin's members create a reputation for it, the same as other Houses have students who create reputations for it. Most of the time, the reputations incorrectly represent the House, which is unfortunate, because there is a great deal more to all of the Houses than what is depicted by a few wayward students.

Draco stared at the ground.

"For example," said the Professor, looking at him calmly. "Would you have considered Cedric Diggory weak? I know you supported him during the Triwizarding Tournament."

"No. Diggory was naïve, but he was not weak."

"I didn't believe so either. And yet, being a Hufflepuff, proper rumour has it that he should have been weak and soft. Right?"

Draco said nothing.

"So you see the error in categorizing. Which is why it should never been done."

"Well then why is everyone always singing the praises of Gryffindor? And Potter? And why Slytherin is always targeted?"

"What people see often depends on what they've experienced. Though no one should judge Slytherin, the actions of its members will determine how it is viewed through the eyes of the other Houses. And because Slytherin House has a dominating aspect—namely ambition—in common with the driving nature of families like yours, I'm afraid that one and one does very often equal two.

"That does not mean, however, that the formula can't change. Salazar Slytherin had an intense dislike for muggleborns because he and his family were persecuted during the time in which he lived. Though we had protective spells and enchantments during that time, the hatred of the muggles was much more potent, and more than one wizard was hurt in their vain attempts to cleanse their lands of us. It was then, to prevent injury to both sides, that Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw decided we should draw away from living in the muggle world, and establish our own world, just beyond their sight.

"Though the solution was a very peaceful one—one of which the entire wizarding world should be quite proud—it did not stop the deeply seated hatred for muggles that people who had been tormented, like Slytherin, felt. His denial of muggleborns into Hogwarts was born out of the fact that he hated and distrusted them, because they had pushed their superiority of situation on him his entire life.

"Somehow, over the course of time, that fear, born out of experience, morphed into a feeling of superiority. Wizards no longer feared or hated muggles because the muggles had a more powerful position than they—they hated muggles because they were more inferior than wizards. When the muggles went through their dark times, it was a time of enlightenment for the wizarding community. The enlightment of the muggles a few centuries later was decades behind that of wizards. We knew things, could do things, much more quickly and with much more intelligence than the muggles could. What use had we of an automatic lighting device? We could light the world with our wands. What good would an automobile do us? We could apparate! We were superior in every form and fashion.

"But in the heart of the most intelligent of us, the fact that we remained hidden was a slap in the face—a harsh holdover from a time in which we ran in fear, lived in constant dread of the muggles whose swords could truly wound us. Some of us began to feel that we should establish our superiority over them. Our old magic, our powers, our creatures, our very beings—they were all demonstrations of how we deserved to live on the outside, and how muggles, like House Elves, deserved to serve us.

"But…" the Headmaster took a seat inside the gazebo. "They got it wrong. Wizards like Voldemort, and Grindelwald—they don't truly understand.

"In remaining hidden, we are not hiding from the muggles. We are protecting ourselves—our way of life. Not from fear of persecution, because, as they believe, we are beyond that. But rather from having the peace we live now from being disturbed.

"If the muggles knew of us, we would never be alone. Their scientists would study us, their journalists would follow us, their leaders would seek us out for advice. They are too powerful for us to destroy, but not powerful enough to protect themselves. Their entire world would be turned upside down. Theologies, histories, literatures—they would all have to be rewritten. Their world might very well descend into chaos. And with them, our world as well."

"Why? You just said we'd be safe from them."

"They couldn't harm us, no. Escaping them is as easy, right now at least, as apparating out of their jails, or prisons. But our livelihood is predicated upon the careful balance they have established in their daily lives. Like this gazebo," he gestured upwards. "The lion fights the snake, the snake fights the lion. If one wins, the other loses. We see this monument as a tribute to the end of Grindelwald. They see it as a tribute to the end of their Great War. If they were to learn any differently, it would no longer be something we could both enjoy. They would want to make it their own, not ours, and in an attempt to preserve their hold over it, it might very well be destroyed."

"But isn't it them the exact same as Slytherin? We're still running and hiding."

"Not really. We don't hide from their superiority. In a way, we protect ourselves from our own superiority."

Draco bowed his shoulders. "It's still running. It is still hiding. They still control everything."

"Do they? Or do we let them think they do?"

"Huh?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"How much of the balanced established do you think doesn't have a part of the wizarding world involved? We are everywhere. In everything they do, in some small way or another. We are more integral in their world than we, or they, know. Hopefully, than they will ever know."

They sat, side by side, watching the glow bugs light up the nearby bushes.

"But…Headmaster…don't you ever wish you could walk down the street of London or anywhere else in your hat and robe, walk into a store, and not have muggles see you as odd?"

"I suppose it would be nice to go into a muggle barbers dressed as such. I always have such a time with magical hair snippers, they never get it quite right." His eyes twinkled. "But on the whole, no. I am quite content. If I wish to walk down the street in my robe and hat, I walk down Diagon Alley or the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade. If I wish to go anywhere in the muggle world, I apparate there.

"Are you not content with what you have, Mr. Malfoy? Have you ever really wished to be a part of their world so badly you'd see them all destroyed to get there? What in your life do you lack?"

Draco stared at the glowworms, blinking back and forth. "I don't know. I just know it's wrong…"

"To let them think they're alone and superior."

"Yes."

"That is not any choice of yours, Mr. Malfoy. That is a lesson taught you by your parents, who were in turn taught that by their parents, who were taught that by their parents. But it has not affected their livelihood. Your parents have been denied nothing by the existence of muggles, save their own sense of pride—a pride they don't clearly understand. It is the lingering ghost of a shadow in the past, one that should long ago have given way to a much more brilliant truth.

"This truth, people like Harry can understand, because they have existed in both worlds—and they see the true difference."

"The true difference."

"Allow me to put it this way—do you think that for all Harry is having to experience in the wizarding world, that he would consider going back to living the life of a muggle?"

Draco sat back, his brow furrowed. "I…"

"Or Ms. Granger? Or Dean Thomas? Or anyone of a number of Hogwarts students who grew up completely unaware of the wizarding world? Do you think they see you as inferior? Or do they envy you the eleven years you spent in this wondrous place before they knew of it?"

"I suppose…I suppose the latter."

"You suppose correctly," said the Headmaster with a gentle grin. "Perhaps that should be what you remember when the time comes for you to make some very important choices. That you've been denied nothing—that you already have everything you could possibly want, and more than what a majority of people, muggles or otherwise, could ever dream of having. And if you do anything to change that, you are losing much more than you know." He stood. "I am afraid I must go. I believe someone has come looking for you."

Ahead, near the front of the courtyard, Tenny had come into view, her ears drawn back, looking nervously around. Draco stood and moved to the front of the gazebo, signaling her.

"Headmaster, I…"

He turned back to the center of the gazebo.

It was empty.

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

Ginny set down softly atop The Burrow. There was no activity inside the house, meaning Harry had been as good as his word. She seated herself on the Firebolt once more, and descended to the ground near the front porch.

"How did it go?"

Ginny nearly leapt out of her skin, dropping the Firebolt with a thud. Harry emerged from the dark porch onto the dirt path, picking up the broomstick and carefully wiping it off.

Boys and their broomsticks…

"Harry, what are you doing out here?" she whispered.

"Waiting for you, what else? You Mum and the rest have gone to bed—she wouldn't have except I promised I'd wait up for you. They've been asleep a while now, except for Ron, I think, I didn't hear him snoring."

"He probably suspects what I was up to."

"I think he knows what you were up to."

He stared at her questioningly, twisting the broomstick in his hands. "So…you didn't answer my question…how did it go?"

"I'm never going to see him again," she said fiercely.

"I take that it didn't go well?"

She slapped him on the shoulder.

"Ouch! Sorry, I don't mean to joke, it's just…" he didn't bother to finish, just swung his broomstick on his shoulder and took her cloak from her hands. "Come'n. Let's get some tea."

She sniffled, following him inside.

A few moments later she was seated at the kitchen table, a hot mug of tea in her hand. Harry sat next to her, swirling his around in his cup.

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"Not really," she replied, giving him a wan smile. "Thanks for asking, though."

"Ginny, is that you?" asked a sleepy voice. Hermione shuffled into the kitchen swaddled in a large pink nightrobe, star and moon pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. "Where have you been?"

Harry looked to her questioningly, but Ginny shook her head. Everyone would know soon enough.

"I went to see Draco."

"WHAT?" Hermione was suddenly wide awake. "Where?"

"Near the Manor."

"But that's…did you Floo there? We didn't…"

"No, I flew."

"Flooed?

"No…FLEW. Broomstick. Flew."

"FLEW?"

"Don't worry, I used the Firebolt, so it didn't take that long."

Hermione's eyes searched between them, lost between wanting to comfort Ginny and scolding Harry for allowing her to go. She finally poured herself some tea out of the pot, and took a seat next to Harry.

"So what happened?"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Ginny."

"Leave her alone, Hermione," said Harry softly.

"Harry…" Hermione reached a hand over and placed it on Ginny's arm. "I know you don't want to, but I think it's best. Get it all out now, while its fresh."

Ginny sniffled. "I…I told him I didn't want to see him anymore."

"Why?"

"Because…because he didn't want me. He didn't want my family, or you, or anybody I care about. He just wanted his stupid family and that stupid ceremony. He doesn't even realize how much it will change him! Not just him becoming…becoming…" she swallowed. "But the fact that after it takes place, there is NO GOING BACK. HE'S SUCH A PRAT!"

She slammed her tea onto the table, cracking the mug and splattering tea everywhere. Hermione and Harry pulled back, shaking droplets of hot liquid from their hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Ginny cried, pulling a rag from the back of one of the chairs, wiping it at the mess, and knocking over Harry's cup in the process.

Hermione grasped a dishtowel from the sink. "Ginny, its alright."

"I'm so sorry…" she laid her head down atop her arms. "I'm…" she burst into tears.

Harry glanced at Hermione awkwardly. "Ginny…"

"How can I hate him so much? I care about him so much—and he doesn't care about me at all."

"That...that's not true," said a voice from the staircase. "I think he loves you very much."

"What?" sniffled Ginny, raising her head.

Ron walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up from the back of his head. He didn't appear sleepy. "I said I think he loves you very much."

Ginny stared at him. "Why are you saying that?"

"Because it's the truth," he said sharply, trying not to look at Harry and Hermione, who were staring at him with open-mouthed expressions. "I saw how much he cared about you. He wouldn't have gone through the trouble of helping me out if he didn't."

She wiped at her eyes. "But even so, he's not willing to let go of everything. He's still just Malfoy."

"You're right, he is," said Ron, seating himself next to her and wrapping a long arm about her. His pyjamas were striped and too short for him. "You've done everything you could to let him see that. I don't think it will do you any good anymore to pound it into his head. But maybe…perhaps you just shouldn't let him forget you. Write him letters—let him know that you still care. Let him know you'll be waiting for him. Don't let him forget, not even for a moment, that you are there for him. Maybe…just maybe, if you constantly remind him, he won't forget. And maybe in the end he'll change his mind."

"That's a lot of maybes, Ron."

"They're better than nothings, right?" he said. "Just don't give up, okay Gin? Nobody, not Harry or me or Hermione, want you to. I think its brilliant what you're doing—I think it's brilliant what you've already done. I mean, who would have thought a Malfoy could come this far?"

She smiled. "Thanks, Ron."

He hugged her. "Don't worry about it. Try and get some sleep tonight, and we'll think about what we can do tomorrow."

She hugged him once more, the slipped away from the table and up to her room.

"Fat lot of good that's going to do," muttered Ron, laying his chin on his hand. "Malfoy's a bloody fool, that's all I have to say…what?"

Harry and Hermione both wore wide grins.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that, sometimes, Ron, you really do surprise me," said Hermione, her cheeks pink.

"What's that supposed to me?"

"It means," said Harry with a mischievous grin, "that most of the time you don't."

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

Draco walked wearily into the Manor, holding to Tenny's hand. She'd offered to apparate them into his room, but he hadn't wanted to get there so quickly—his Mother might be waiting for him, or worse.

So the little House Elf had taken his hand in hers anyhow, and walked him all the way back to the Manor. He hadn't pulled away, in part because he was too weary to argue, and in part because in truth, she was extremely comforting. Thankfully, she'd sensed that silence was the best way to answer his melancholy mood.

He walked in, finally letting go of her hand, and trudged towards the stairs.

"Draco."

He sighed deeply. His mother came out into the foyer, her neat heels snapping on the parquet floor. "Draco, I need to speak with you."

"Mother, this really isn'ta good time."

"I refuse to take no for an answer. We need to talk."

"REALLY not a good time."

"Draco Darien Padraig Malfoy, you come back here right this instant and speak with me."

He sighed. "Mother, please…I really don't want to talk right now."

"We need to, Draco," his mother's voice softened. "Please. I want you to understand."

"I think I understand well enough," he said from his position on the third step. "I'm sacrificing everything for the sake of the Dark Lord—I am honored to do so because my family is honored to do so. And for it, Ginny hates me and will never speak to me again. In truth, I really do have nothing to lose. So you don't need to worry about my backing away from the ceremony, or trying to escape. I promise you, I won't."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "You told Ginny?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I told Ginny. She has a right to know. At which point she promptly told me I could never be a part of her life again."

His Mother was silent for a moment. He took that as a dismissal and began climbing up the stairs.

"You fool."

When he turned back, she was glaring at him, her eyes narrowed. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"What?"

"You've just informed Dumbledore about our plans. You've just let him know that we have one week left before our ceremony. By telling Ginny, you've told the Order of the Phoenix everything."

For the first time that day, Draco felt angry. I just lost the one person I love the most, and all she can think about is the stupid Ceremony?

Really, really angry.

"AND SO BLOODY WHAT!" he shouted, tossing his cloak down at her. "IS THE LORD OF DARKNESS SO AFRAID OF DUMBLEDORE THAT HE HAS TO WALK IN SECRET ALL THE TIME? IS HE SO PETRIFIED DUMBLEDORE MIGHT FIND HIM THAT HE SLITHERS ABOUT IN THE SHADOWS, USING SIMPLE-MINDED CHILDREN AS HIS VEHICLES OF POWER?"

He strode down the steps, flinging his arms about. "DON'T YOU CALL ME A FOOL AND ACT AS THOUGH I'M AN INSIGNIFICANT PART OF THIS! YOU NEED ME TO CONVINCE THEM TO FOLLOW YOU AND YOUR DEATH EATERS! YOU KNOW THE OTHER SLYTHERINS WILL DO WHAT I ASK THEM TO! YOU NEED ME!"

Narcissa stared at him, her eyes wide.

He snarled at her. "I'm going to bed."

"You're not as significant as you think," said his Mother tensely.

"Oh please," he said. "I know how important I am—and more importantly, DUMBLEDORE knows how important I am."

"What do you mean?"

"He's already come to me." He grinned spitefully at her surprised reaction. "That's right. Dumbledore found me. He wanted me to…well, how to put this…he wanted me to basically give up everything you have planned for me…and run right to the Order of the Phoenix, where he would protect me—from you."

"What did you tell him, son?"

Draco unclenched his fists. "What do you think I told him, Mother?"

"I think you told him to leave you alone," she said quietly.

"And you'd be right, in one way or another," he replied.

"Draco…" his mother reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to tell Ginny to warn her. I know you love her, and you wanted her to know. But you must be careful. Everything we have been planning—all that we have suffered—it is going to be rectified very soon. You are an important part of that.

"But more so than your being involved—than your being the first chosen—is the reason why. You ARE a representative for others. But you've been brought up to be so, because your father and I agreed that you would have a better life than we ever could.

"Draco, you are the first of your family to be blessed with no one to question your ways. In my family, and your father's, we had doubters—people who didn't believe that what we were fighting for was right. And they constantly influenced us, tried to change our minds.

"We brought you up without that. I knew you would encounter it at Hogwarts—your father wanted to send you to Durmstrang because you would not be around anyone who would dissuade you—but I knew that you had to encounter dissention, because we needed to be sure that you were as strong in your beliefs as we were. Having students like Potter question your motives would only strengthen your faith, because it wasn't your family questioning, it was your family being questioned. And you have proven faithful in more than one way.

"But now, just at the time when I need you to be strongest, you are growing weaker in your beliefs. Forces beyond my control are taking you away from me. And I can do nothing, nothing at all, to bring you back, because I can't control them."

She lifted his chin. "I know I have no control over your heart. And that terrifies me. If you defy the Dark Lord, Draco, he will strike you down more quickly than you can imagine. And he will not stop with you. He will destroy the entirety of your family—and when he finds out why you have betrayed him, he will destroy that reason too. He will kill her, Draco, and her entire family. Dumbledore might protect Potter, but he can't protect them all."

"I know that, Mother. I know." He bowed his head. "I know. I just wish…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter now. You do not have to worry with me, Mother. I know what I must do. And I will be there to take my place amongst the Death Eaters, as their First." He turned from her, trudging up the stairs. "You will never hear from Ginny again. She is too stubborn to chase after me unless I give her a reason to, and I can promise that will not happen." He swooped his cloak off the ground, and slowly began to climb the stairs, his hair draping across his eyes.

His mother watched him climb, her arms crossed.

"My dear boy," she said softly. "I wish I could be certain. And for the test you must pass, you have to be certain."

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

Ginny put down her broom, brushing the dust from her hair. Another hour of Quidditch practice—which Ron kept insisting she do—had made the time go by faster, but it hadn't changed anything. She thought about Draco more than ever.

Two days. The 'ceremony' is in two days.

She walked into the Burrow, waving to Nymphadora Tonks, who was sporting a beautiful cascade of blond hair, a pair of faded denims, and a slightly too-tight "Count Olaf—Master of Disguise" T-shirt.

"Good work up there, Gin," she said, popping her bubble gum. "Need to work a bit on your underhands—it helps if you put a little more force from the opposite side of where you're throwing."

"Thanks, Tonks," Ginny swung open the door, picking up an apple from the nearby plate and walking into the living room.

Harry sat in front of the fire, talking calmly to a head poking out of the flames. "Hi, Professor Lupin," she said.

"Hello, Ginny," the professor replied, and turned back to Harry.

Since her revelation about Draco, Professor Dumbledore had made The Burrow ground zero for preparations in the search for the location of the Ceremony. Not only did they have three members of the Order guarding them at all times—to protect them should Draco inform his Mum he'd told Ginny about the ceremony, which Ginny knew he would—they also were going back and forth relaying messages to the Weasleys, in particular Bill and Charlie, who'd immediately returned when they'd heard what the Death Eaters were planning.

Since the Burrow was jumping with activity, Professor Dumbledore had had little choice but to allow Harry, Ron and Hermione to learn of what they were planning. But he'd made them promise they wouldn't be involved in the ceremony, no matter what happened. Ginny didn't think it was a promise Harry could keep—but she had already assured them that she wouldn't be doing anything to stop it. Draco had chosen—and no matter how much Ron had encouraged her to try and find a way to contact him, she'd refused.

Draco has to make the first move, he knows this.

In two days time, he'd be lost to her forever.

She felt a lump rise in her throat.

"…might be able to help, but I'm not certain." Professor Lupin was talking rapidly, looking slightly vexed. "I've never attempted to control myself while on the Wolfsbane potion and yet attacking at the same time. I'm not certain I can do it."

"Does Professor Dumbledore think you can?" asked Harry.

"Yes…both he and Professor Snape are convinced I can. But as they aren't werewolves, I'll stick to my instincts first.

"Anyhow," he continued, "Professor Dumbledore says Bill and Charlie are to meet him at sunset tomorrow night. They'll begin the preparations from there."

"Do they know where to look?"

"There are a few locations—Professor Dumbledore is scouting around. We think we have a fairly good idea, though—there is a spot in the north that has been generating quite a bit of activity."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the update, Professor. I'll make sure Bill and Charlie know."

"Thank you, Harry," said the professor, and disappeared.

"Is he going to do it?" Ginny asked.

Harry turned to her. "He's considering it, but he's unsure. How was Quidditch practice?"

She rolled her eyes. "The same Quidditch practice Ron has been insisting I do for the past three days."

Harry smiled gently. "Are you feeling better today?"

She glanced downwards. "A little bit. But…it's still…you know."

"Right."

"Post!" cried Hermione's voice from outside. "You've got a letter!"

"Really!" Ginny's heart began to beat faster. "I've…"

"Harry…" Hermione threw open the door, skidding to a halt when she saw Ginny's excited face. "Oh…Ginny. I'm sorry. This came by regular post. It's for Harry. From your Aunt," she said, handing it to him.

"What?"

"That is a bit odd, isn't it?"

Ginny settled back into her armchair, twirling the apple in her hands.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have…"

"'S alright," she said wanly. "''S not like I was expecting anything from him anyway." She pulled herself up, and marched up the stairs, trying not to sniffle too much.

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

"Horrid. Absolutely horrid," said Hermione. "I can't believe he hasn't even tried to contact her."

"Well, she did sorta break up with him," said Harry, his eyes scanning the letter.

"Doesn't matter!" sniffed Hermione. "He knows he's in the wrong, he should have contacted her anyhow."

"I think his knowing he's in the wrong is the problem."

Hermione crossed her arms, puffing up slightly. "Well…"

"They want to know if I'm alright," said Harry in wonderment, ignoring her expression. He flipped the letter over. "She actually wants to know if I'm alright. No requests, or anything. How odd."

"Well," Hermione said, uncrossing her arms, "this is the longest you've been away from them."

"I never thought being away from them would mean they would miss me," he said incredulously.

Hermione shrugged. "People are funny that way. They can think one way about a person, treat them horribly, make them live in cupboards, and yet, in the back of their minds, they love them more than anything. I'm sure you Aunt feels the same way about you."

"Something like that," Harry said with a smirk.

"Do you think we should go check on her? Ginny, I mean," she said quickly, taking in his uncertain expression.

He shook his head. "No. I think she's had enough comfort force fed her, between you Mother, Tonks, and Ron. Probably best if we leave her alone."

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

Ginny stretched her fingers out the window, allowing Pig to nip at them as he hovered near the vines covering the side of the house. Evening had set, the nighttime sky clear of rain clouds, letting the stars sparkle through.

She'd skipped dinner, despite Ron, then Charlie's, urging. She just didn't want to bother, with Moody and Tonks and Fred and George at the table, along with everyone else. Her mother had then brought her a plate, which remained untouched near her door.

She wished Draco would write. She wished she could see him again.

But she couldn't. If she did, it would mean she was giving in to him. It would mean she was giving up everything she believed, to let him follow through with what he believed. It would mean giving up on what was right.

And she couldn't do that. No matter how much she loved him.

But…perhaps…at least she could tell him that…at least…

She moved off her seat, thumbing through her parchment quickly, trying to find an empty roll. She hurried, lest her better judgment set in.

She yanked out her quill, dipping it haphazardly in her ink bottle—a bright red, it spilled over the side of the parchment, staining it—and scribbled a few words in the corner. Sealing it up with a piece of wax, she reached out for Pig, and tied it to his leg.

"Quickly, quickly," she said breathlessly, releasing him. "Take this to Malfoy Manor. Hurry."

She let him go into the night, watching as he disappeared by the light of the nearly full moon. It was too late to stop him now.

She smiled.

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

Tenny tapped softly on the door to the Young Master's suits, balancing a platter upon her arm. She'd seen the Young Master go through many things, but nothing worried her more than seeing him as he was.

The Mistress had ordered she bring him dinner every night—he'd refused to leave his rooms—and though she'd obeyed, every evening, he ate very little of what she brought. He refused to even look at her, just sat at his desk, his chin on his hands, staring down at a piece of paper he'd carefully smoothed out.

Tenny was certain it had to do with the Miss Weezy, though she couldn't be certain. But the Miss Weezy was very good about sending the Young Master letters and parchments and such, but nothing had come to the Manor since that night, when Young Master had taken her hand and walked with her back to the Manor, like he used to when he was just a little boy.

When he used to treat her like family.

Tenny had lived with five generations of Malfoys. Master Lucius had been the worst of them, a terrible little boy who had little respect for his elders, especially House Elves, and he'd started that when he was two. Tenny had thought the elegance of the pretty Miss Black would change him, but she was as bad as he, though not in a violent way. She respected her family the way he respected his, and that had not been good for House Elves.

Tenny had expected the last generation, the Young Master Draco, to be like his parents, and then even worse, as they had all been before him. But Master Draco was a quiet boy, not particularly nasty save for what his father had taught him. He acted superiorly, but not until someone told him to. Tenny was certain he had loved her as a nursemaid, until his father took him aside and told him of the position House Elves had with the family. After that, Master Draco had tried everything he could to be particularly cruel, especially to Tenny.

And the House Elves had not been helped out with the acts committed by that…that Dobby.

Bad Dobby, making life badder for all House Elves everywhere. Dobby is getting his due soon, Tenny thinks.

But she really didn't know. Dobby was under the wing of the great Harry Potter, who had improved life for all. Perhaps he would survive.

Young Master wasn't fairing well, though. For all his nastiness, there was a part of Master Draco that refused to take any action beyond cruel words and slightly harsh actions. He'd never really hurt anyone—his slaps were light as feathers, and most of the time the raised hand was a threat—and the few things that had gone wrong were intended as pranks.

When he'd gone to school, he had come back with a nastier attitude than most, and Tenny learned he acquired Harry Potter as an enemy. And though Master Draco spoke of Potter as being second best, the House Elves knew that Harry Potter was getting the better of Master Draco. Which is where Dobby came up with his foolish notions…

Tenny shook her head. Master Draco had been pushing to the edge of his personality—just starting to turn like Master Lucius—when the Miss Weezy had appeared in his room, looking extremely pretty with her long red hair, and very different from the type of girls any of the other young Malfoys had brought home. She was…nice. She was different.

Tenny had been happy.

Miss Weezy makes things better for Young Master.

The night in the courtyard, Master Draco had seemed so defeated. And he hadn't changed at all since he returned, especially since he had yelled at the Mistress. Tenny had never heard the Young Master speak to the Mistress in that manner. Nothing could have made him do that…except…

He'd defended against the Mistress Bella in the same way—to protect the Young Miss.

"Teneesia, what are you doing outside the Young Master's room? Didn't I instruct you to bring him his dinner?"

Tenny jumped. The Mistress was coming down the hall, looking as elegant as she always did. At her heels was the lame one, Kreacher, who nodded at her. Tenny raised her nose at him.

He is thinking his is being so bold by telling of all the doings of the Mister Potter. Tenny is thinking he gets HIS end soon too.

"I is just arriving with his platter, Mistress, I go soon."

"That is fine," the Mistress said harshly. "When he goes in…give him this." She dropped a letter atop the bowl of soup. It was scrawled with red lettering, and addressed 'Draco.'

"I believe it is from Miss Weasley, so make sure he gets it."

Tenny nodded, one eyebrow rising slightly. She had been under the impression the Mistress disliked the Young Miss Weezy.

"Such a shame," continued the Mistress, her expression softening. "The young Miss Weasley will not be able to be with Draco when he needs her most."

"Mistress does not mean the red-head traitors, who disgraced the home of my beloved Mistress, who spat upon her name, who trod in her…"

"Regardless, Kreacher," said the Mistress, looking slightly displeased, "Despite their disrespect of your Mistress, the Miss Weasley has been particularly kind to Draco, and he cares for her. She should be there for him in his time of need."

"Why…why is the Young Miss not to be there?" asked Tenny timidly, lowering her head lest the Mistress strike her ears.

To her surprise, the Mistress merely crossed her arms. "Because Draco refuses to tell her where she needs to go. If only there was a way to inform her. He will be at a special ceremony two days from now, the night of the full moon. At the graveyard of our Dark Lord, in Little Hangleton. If she were there, it would be a great comfort to him."

Tenny stared down at the note on top of the soup bowl. "Tenny will make sure he gets this," she said softly.

She bowed to the Mistress, and apparated inside the room.

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

Narcissa watched the tiny, ancient House Elf disappear into Draco's suite. She'd had a sort of muted respect for Teenesia, who always seemed to want the best for the Malfoy boys, despite undergoing years of their abuse. Even Lucius she treated with a respect tempered with patience, while the other House Elves ran in fear from him. And he, in a way, treated her much better than the other House Elves.

The consequence of changing diapers for the darkest of the Dark Lord's servants, I suppose. She can't live entirely in fear of them when you've powdered their bottoms.

In any case, Teenesia's kind heart was going to come in very handy.

Kreacher stared at the door from behind her legs, looking displaced, but sentient. He was by far their greatest asset.

"Come, Kreacher. We have plans to make."

"Kreacher does not see the…"

"If you want those disgraceful excuses for purebloods to pay for tarnishing your Mistress's House, then you'll do exactly as I say, without question. The abolition of one evil is greater than the dissuading of a lesser one, right?"

"Mistress does, Kreacher obeys the noble House."

"Then come." She started off down the hall. Her first call was going to be to a particular department of the Ministry of Magic.

If Draco acted as she thought he might, the appearance of Ginny at the ceremony was going to come in very handy.

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

Draco sat at his desk, staring down at the picture of Ginny, who'd gotten so tired of waving at him that she was now slumped off the side, slumbering. Next to the photograph were a few of Ginny's letters, written in better times, when they didn't have much to worry on.

There had been nothing from her—not that he'd expected anything, after all, Ginny was incredibly stubborn, that was one of her strongest qualities, though not necessarily one of her best ones. But he hoped she would.

Tenny apparated beside him, caring the same tray of food she'd brought the last time.

"Go away. I'm not hungry," he said sharply.

"M-Master, there is a letter being sent to you."

He whirled from the desk, nearly knocking her over, tray, hot soup and all as she held up the thin piece of parchment for him.

He ripped it eagerly open. It was half stained in red. For a moment he was dazed, panicky, thinking she'd done something to hurt herself. He realized she'd just written in red ink, and his heart settled a bit.

I love you. I always will.

It was all she had written. She hadn't even signed it. But he knew Ginny's handwriting well enough to know that it was from her.

He unfolded the parchment, spreading it out where it had as few folds as possible, and ran his fingers over the hurriedly scratched lettering.

"Is it…from the Miss Weezy?"

He nearly jumped out of his seat. Tenny was shoving his tray on a nearby nightstand, standing on her tiptoes to reach the high tabletop.

"Wh—what are you still doing in here, Tenny?"

"Tenny is just wondering on the Young Miss…"

"You don't need to worry on the Young Miss anymore, Tenny. She won't be coming around here."

"But the letter…"

"Is from her, yes. But this the last. She won't write anymore," he sat back, his fingers tearing at the edges slightly. "Not to the real me."

"Because of the Inheritance ceremony?"

He whirled around, his eyes wide. "What do you…"

"Tenny is knowing, as all the House Elves are knowing," she said timidly.

He settled back a bit. "Whatever you know, Tenny, forget it. It is for your own good.

"And whatever comes out of it, remember that I do respect you, whatever I might show." He rose from his chair. "Now do not disturb me anymore, I have to prepare. I'll be in my study. Leave my food for tomorrow on the stand. I don't want to be bothered."

He gathered the papers from his desk, including the picture, and retreated to his library, where he curled in his armchair, burying his head and trying to forget anything but the last words Ginny had written to him.

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

Tenny watched as he entered his library, shutting the doors with a bang.

If the ceremony was anything like the last one, it was no wonder he felt like not eating. Being asked to take over as Master of Malfoy Manor would be a great responsibility for someone so young. But with Master Lucius in Azkaban, someone would have to run the Manor.

Tenny had lived through five inheritance ceremonies. It was a beautiful thing, to watch as the title of the Manor was passed down from father to son. It was the only type of ceremony she could think of that he would possibly be participating in.

Not that Master Lucius would be there, but the Mistress could do it.

It is being held in this "Hangleton" rather than in the Manor courtyard, but it must be so to prevent others from disturbing.

He was even worried about what his new status might do to his relationship with the Elves. He was being considerate, worrying about his becoming Master.

But his is acting depressing—because he is missing Miss Weezy. And this ceremony that all are speaking of is important. She is young to be there—he is being afraid that she will not be welcome. He is being asked to take his father's place. If Miss Weezy is being with him always, she is needing to be there. She will be important, standing by his side, as Mistress was standing by Master Lucius.

Tenny exited the suite, a new determination rising up in her. No one should separate those who deserved to be together.

She couldn't write well, but she could write enough.

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

One more day…

Ginny swung about the Bludger bat, slamming into another of Bill's old shoes. It was sent barreling off, nearly clipping Charlie in the head.

"Watch it, Gin," he cried, zooming past her. "I still need that!"

"Sorry!"

She'd come out for one more day of Quidditch practice on the condition that she could take the position of Beater. Already, she'd knocked Fred (or was it George?) off his broomstick twice, broken Harry's glasses four times, and torn clean through the makeshift goalpost (Mum's old washtub).

In any case, the action was cathartic. Each time she hit the Bludger, she imagined it was Draco's head.

Except for the few times she envisioned it was Tom Riddle's head. That was when she'd broken Ron's nose.

I'm not going to waste anymore tears on him. None!

Not one reply back! Not an "I love you too" even! And she'd gone so far as to write him!

"Stupid Malfoy," she hissed, slamming the Bludger and taking the end off George's (or was it Fred's?) broomstick.

"WATCH IT!" the twins chirped, as Hermione did a momentum slowing charm to lower the broken broomstick softly to the ground.

"GINNY!" cried her Mum. Ginny rolled her eyes. All she needed at the moment was to be locked in her room for an afternoon, alone with her thoughts.

But to her surprise, her mother didn't scold her—just handed her a note.

"This just came for you—owl post."

Ginny stared at the handwriting.

For the Yung Mis

"Who's it from?"

Her mother shrugged. "It isn't from Mister Malfoy, unless he's been fooling us all this time."

Ginny tore it open. The note was messily scrawled and difficult to read.

Mis Yung Wezy,

Teny is asking yu to met her ot bi the ston rum wher yu is meting Master Draco mani nites ago. Plez cum, it is to helping Master Draco wit his cerimoni. Plez cum. To-nite.

Teneesia

Ginny shook her head, squinting to decipher the letter. "It's from Teneesia. Draco's House Elf."

"Why would she write you, and not Mister Malfoy?"

"I don't know. She might be speaking for him. Or perhaps she wants to tell me something?"

"Does she say what?"

"No…I think…I think she's asking me to meet her in person, in St. Ettington."

"Absolutely not."

"But MUM!"

"NO, Ginevra, and that is final!"

"What if this is important? What if Draco is running away, and she couldn't say anything because she didn't want to reveal it in case someone should intercept the letter?"

"Mrs. Malfoy would have to read House Elf speak, and I very highly doubt that."

"MUMMMMM! PLEASE!"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Absolutely not what?" asked Ron, coming in through the kitchen door. "We could hear you all the way out on the pitch."

"Mum won't let me go meet Teenesia!"

"Who?"

"Y'know…the Malfoy's House Elf."

"The old one?"

"Yes! She sent me a note." She handed the parchment over to Ron, who studied it for a moment, turned it over, and studied it some more.

"Is it written in Elvish?"

"NO!" She grabbed the note and turned it right side up again. "Here, it says 'Tenny is asking you to meet her out by the stone room where you is meeting Master Draco many nights ago.' See!"

Ron gave her a perplexed expression. If you say so. I don't read Elvish."

Ginny huffed, crossing her arms. "Point IS, I want to go and meet her. Who knows what she might have to say!"

"NO, GINNY! Professor Dumbledore said it would be safer if we stay here—and I am not allowing you to fly alone, by yourself, to a place just a walk away from Malfoy Manor!"

"What if I went with her?" asked Ron.

"WHAT?" said Mrs. Weasley and Ginny in unison.

Ron backed off for a minute, raising his hands. "I mean, what if I escorted her down there? We could take the Floo…you know, rather than fly…we'd be back in a cinch. I'll keep a lookout for anything dangerous."

Mrs. Weasley glanced apprehensively at them. Ginny looked down at the floor, crossing her arms behind her back, trying to appear innocent.

"Don't worry, Mum. I'm a prefect, I've had lots of training and such. I'll make sure Ginny is safe and back here in no time."

"Well…if you promise you'll be gone and back in one half an hour."

"Promise."

"Very well. You can go tonight."

Ginny squealed, leaping at her brother. "THANK YOU RON!"

He pulled himself away from her suffocating embrace, and patted her softly atop the head. " 'S alright, Gin. You're welcome."

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

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked one more time, as Ron stuffed his wand into his robe. "Sure you don't want me to go? Or Hermione?" he added quickly, seeing Ron's vexed expression.

"Positive. It won't take long for Ginny to meet with the House Elf. We'll find out what she wants, and go."

"Where are you Flooing to?" asked Hermione.

"A confectioner's shop. There's an outdoor oven that's always lit, but far enough away not to disturb the bakers. Professor Dumbledore says he uses it all the time."

"What did Dumbledore have to say about this?"

Ron shrugged. "Not much—just warned Ginny to be careful."

Ginny came bounding down the steps, her cheeks flushed. "Are we ready?"

"We're ready."

"If you want, mate, you can take my Invisibility Cloak…just in case."

"Nah," Ron said with a smile. "We'll be alright, I promise."

"Take care, then."

"Be careful, Ron," said Hermione. "And you too, Ginny."

Ginny grinned. "I will." She grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him into the fireplace. He reached into the bucket of powder.

"Swithie's, St. Ettington," he pronounced clearly, placing his left arm about his sister.

A swirl of green flame, and they were gone.

Harry studied the empty fireplace for a moment. "I hope Ginny's not expecting too much."

"Of course she is," said Hermione sadly.

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

Ron stumbled from the fireplace, coughing, and stepped forward—promptly banging his head on the low brick ceiling of the oven.

"Come on, Ron!" whispered Ginny, tearing through the confectioner's yard towards the center of the village.

"Ginny…Gin…wait!" he hissed back, glancing around. The town seemed quiet enough—but he felt conspicuous, even so. The offer of Harry's Invisibility Cloak seemed pretty good right now.

"Ginny!" he strode after her, rubbing his throbbing head, where a knot was already forming. "Fantastic."

Ginny was way ahead of him, darting towards a knoll on a small rise in the center of town. A magnificent gazebo rose above it, dominated by the statue of a serpent and a lion, engaging in battle.

"Fitting," he muttered, following her slowly. "I think that about sums up this entire evening in one nice, stony swoop."

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

Ginny rushed forward, heading towards the gazebo where she'd last seen Draco. After Tenny's note, she wasn't sure what to expect. Her greatest hope was to see Draco there, packed and ready to leave with her for the Burrow.

Not that she would expect that at all.

But even just seeing him waiting for her, to tell her goodbye…that would be enough.

There was no one at the gazebo when she arrived.

She leaned back against a column, catching her breath. Ron was in the far distance, walking slowly towards the knoll.

"Miss Weezy," said a soft voice.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin. "Tenny!"

The little House Elf emerged from the shadows. "Tenny is thanking Miss Weezy for coming. Tenny is needing to tell Miss Weezy something important about Master Draco."

"What," panted Ginny. "What do you need to say?"

"Miss Weezy—Master Draco…Master Draco is needing you at the ceremony tomorrow night. He is needing you by his side."

"WHAT?"

Tenny flinched. "Please Miss…Tenny is knowing this is strange…not to be being seen, but just there, for support. Master Draco is needing your support, even though this ceremony is being filled with people who might hate the Miss Weezy."

Ginny shook her head. "Tenny, I can't. You must know this."

"Tenny is knowing this is difficult…but she is asking Miss Weezy to please come. Please. If you is caring for Master Draco, please come."

"Tenny, I don't…I don't even know where the ceremony is."

"To be protecting the honor of Master Lucius, the ceremony is being at a place called 'Little Hangleton', Miss Weezy. Tomorrow night, at the full moon. Tenny is not knowing where this is, but Tenny knows Miss Weezy is smart and strong and can be figuring it out."

"Tenny," Ginny bent down. "I…I will be in great danger if I go…"

"Please," said the small House Elf. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Tenny thinks if the Miss Weezy goes…if the Mistress Ginny goes…it will be saving Master Draco. Yes, Tenny is thinking this."

"Tenny," Ginny reached out, drawing the House Elf to her. Her eyes pricked with tears. "I…I know. I know. I'll do what I can, I promise."

"Thank you. Thank you, Mistress Ginny. You is saving my young Master Draco, Tenny is knowing this."

"Tenny," said a voice behind them. Ron had reached the gazebo. Ginny rose, releasing the House Elf. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Ginny, wiping her face. "Tenny was telling me about Draco. Thank you, Tenny. We must go, now. We're in danger here."

Tenny nodded. "Promise to be caring for him, Mistress Ginny?"

Ginny smiled. "I promise."

The little House Elf smiled. "Good night to you, Mr. Weezy sir."

"Good night."

Tenny snapped her fingers, and disappeared.

"What was that all about?" asked Ron questioningly, as they started back across the knoll. "Are you alright? What did it have to do with Draco?"

"She was worried about him. She asked me to…continue to try to reach him."

"That's it?"

"Well…and to tell me that there are a few places that I can meet her in the future, you know, to get letters and such for her, or to give Draco something without having to go through the post. Um…do you know where Grosvenor Street is?"

"Sure, that's in London."

"Mr. Borgin's?"

"Er…Knockturn Alley—she wants you to meet her there?"

"They're all places she wouldn't stand out."

"No…but you would."

"Anyways…Chestnut Grove Park?"

"Er…that's in Surrey, I think."

"Little Hangleton?"

"That's near the Riddle House, that is. Near Yorkshire. Harry went there. I don't think you should go there," he said seriously.

"Okay, I'll stay away. What about the Isle of Drear?"

"Ginny!"

"I'm kidding! I think I know all the rest of the places she mentioned."

"You know, it's really not a good idea, meeting her…not after tomorrow."

Ginny gazed down at the ground. "I know…I just keep hoping that somehow…tomorrow just won't come."

Ron looped an arm about her shoulders. "I know, Gin…but you've got to just try and be strong. Hopefully, it won't make anything different…"

"You don't believe that."

"Well, no, I don't," he admitted. "But I do believe in Professor Dumbledore, and he and the Order are doing everything in their power to see that the ceremony does not go on. I might not have faith in Malfoy, but I have faith in them."

Ginny nodded. They'd reached the confectioner's.

Little Hangleton. Someone will be there to stop it, Ron. But it won't necessarily be Professor Dumbledore…

Ron withdrew a leather bag containing their Floo Powder. "Here…"

He poured out a stream, forgetting to cup his hand as it poured out, slipping through his fingers.

"RON! You're spilling it!"

"Ginny…" he pointed up.

Far above them, a hailstorm of owls was sailing across the sky.

Ginny turned to him, wide-eyed.

"Something's happened," he said. "We need to get back."

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

"Azkaban's been broken!" Ron cried a few moments later, when he and Ginny had returned, covered in soot and Floo powder.

Hermione nodded miserably. "Professor Dumbledore suspected this would happen, so close to the ceremony. He and the entire Order have gone to secure it, but they think its too late—most of the Death Eaters have escaped."

"Including Crabbe, Goyle, Rodolphe Lestrange—and Lucius Malfoy," said Harry bitterly.

"Bloody Hell." Ron sat down wearily. "What is the Headmaster going to do now?"

"Try and clean up everything, I suppose," said Mrs. Weasley, glancing worriedly at her clock. The hands for Bill, Charlie, the Twins and Mr. Weasley all pointed to 'Prison'.

"Has he given up trying to find where the ceremony will take place?" asked Ginny quietly.

"No," said Mrs. Weasley. "But he now has limited resources. Chances are, he's not going to find it in time." She placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I'm sorry, dear."

Ginny nodded, pulling from the table and heading up the stairs.

"This is horrid!" shouted Harry, slamming his fists on the table. "There's nothing we can do!"

"Nor should you be thinking of doing anything!" said Mrs. Weasley, a bit sharply. "There is no need to cause Professor Dumbledore any more concern by throwing yourself out into the melee. Let him handle everything."

Harry didn't reply, just rand a hand through his dark hair.

"What did Tenny have to say?" asked Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "Nothing much, I suppose. She asked Ginny to continue to push Draco—to try and keep him 'good' or something. At least, that's what I got out of it. Kind of a difficult request, if you ask me. But she is a House Elf who's served their family for years. You'd only expect her to want the best for him. Maybe she thinks he's better off with Ginny."

Hermione didn't say anything to this, just crossed her arms. "Well, with the entire wizarding world on alert now that Azkaban's been broken into, maybe Voldemort will have to postpone or put off the ceremony."

"I highly doubt it," said Harry. "He doesn't stop for anything—or anyone. My guess is, the missing Death Eaters are already where they need to be for the ceremony. We can only hope Professor Dumbledore and the others can figure out where that is.

"If they don't," he said sourly, "then we're going to have twice the problem—with twice the power—on our hands."

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

There had been no news of the escape when Ginny rose the next morning, to the sounds of her Mother bustling about in the kitchen. The clock on the wall had said that her brothers and father were in transit, on their way home. Mrs. Weasley was obviously pleased.

"At least none of them were injured," she said. Ginny frowned.

Harry and Hermione had flooed to the Ministry, to check on Professor Lupin. He'd needed to take his Wolfsbane potion earlier that day, and Professor Snape had apparently left the vial with them earlier that morning so they could take it to him.

Ginny glanced at the hourglass clock next to her Mum. According to that, it was mid-morning.

She'd looked up Little Hangleton in an atlas last evening before she went to bed. With the distance, and providing good windspeed, she figured she could fly there in about four hours—meaning she needed to leave soon, to be able to find a spot where she could talk to Draco without being seen. She'd already made preparations.

"Morning," said Ron, coming in from the outside. He'd been working on some of their brooms with Harry's Broomstick Kit. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she said.

He stared at her for a moment. "Dad and the others are about to come back, right?"

His mother nodded, laying platters on the table. "They should be here any moment. Ah."

The sound of lively chatter greeted them as Fred, George, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley entered noisily through the back door.

"I'm famished…thanks Mum," said Charlie, kissing her on the cheek. Bill sat down at the table, kicking off his boots. "Look's great, Mum."

"Any news on the prisoners?" asked Ron.

Fred shook his head. "They're long gone."

"Been planning this for weeks," said George.

"Obvious, when you take a look at it."

"But who would have been looking in the first place? They're not much to look at."

"Or for."

"What about the Dementors?" asked Ginny.

"Nowhere near as many as before," said Mr. Weasley. "Which is why this escape was so much easier than Sirius's. I think they were waiting, biding their time so as not to stir up trouble. Dumbledore had a hunch, but he couldn't very well act on it when they'd not done anything."

"And with the Dementors in such short supply, it was either keep the Order there, or have them out looking for You-Know-Who," said Bill. "Lesser of two evils sorta thing."

"Well, at least all we have to do is look in one place, now," said Fred.

"Yeah, a great bloody flock of black-robed wizards can't be hard to miss."

"In any case, Dumbledore and the Order will be out full-force, searching for them tonight. I just hope we can find them."

"Well, you won't be going anywhere until you get a nice full breakfast," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully. "Eat up, boys."

"I'm not very hungry…I'm going to go for a walk," said Ginny suddenly, rising from the table. The group stopped chattering.

"You 'right, Thhn?" asked George through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine. Just not very hungry," she cast her Mum a weary look. Mrs. Weasley studied her, then smiled softly.

"Of course, dear," she said gently. "Go on, none of these lunkheads will bother you."

"Bother 'er 'bout what?" asked Fred.

Ron punched his shoulder.

"Owww!"

"Tell us if you need anything," said Charlie.

She smiled at him. "Thanks. It might be long, I probably won't be back for a while."

"Just be careful…watch out for those muggles," said Bill with a wink. Ginny smiled at him.

She strolled casually out the door, smoothly grasping one of the twins' brooms, now neatly tuned thanks to Ron's morning work. Her cloak from the previous evening was hidden by the shed. She'd stuffed an apple and a piece of cheese in her jumper.

She was going to find the Death Eaters, and Voldemort, before anyone else did.

There was a note on Ron's desk, hidden by an invisibility charm that was set to reveal around sunset. That should give her brother and the rest of the Order enough time to reach the Riddle House before the ceremony was complete. But not before she'd had time to find Draco—and save him.

Ginny wrapped her cloak around herself, making sure she was far enough from her family's sight to set her broom down, and take a seat upon it.

Little Hangleton awaited.

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

"Mistress calls you," said Tenny, pushing open the doors of his bedroom. "Master Draco, is you ready?"

Draco lifted his head, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

A seventeen-year-old boy stared back at him, his eyes rimmed with dark circles, looking wan, and tired.

A thick black cloak enshrouded him, resting softly on his silver-blond hair. A silver signet ring was on his finger.

"Master Draco?"

"Yes, Tenny, I'm ready." He reached down atop his dresser drawer. On the high collar below his cloak, he clipped his badge—the one with the Gryffindor seal upon it. He gave himself a wan smile in the mirror, and turned.

"I'm ready, Tenny."

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

The ridge above Little Hangleton glowed a dull, shimmering green. Draco watched from the window of the carriage as a small, battered house came into view. It rose, ghostly, over a fog-filled courtyard, where a few dozen shadowed figures floated, silently, through the mist.

In the thickest of silences, he and his mother had made their way to the graveyard. She had prepared their last resort for traveling—an ancient carriage, tied to a six-team of thestrals, and enchanted to be invisible to muggle eyes. They would never travel by broomstick, and most certainly not by Floo, to a ceremony of this great an importance.

The carriage settled softly on the flagstones of the steps nearest the house. A bit of misdirected magic had been used to conceal the house from muggle eyes—a dangerous trick, should any of the Order, who knew this residence well, stumble upon the fallacy. But they were preoccupied with the breaking of Azkaban, and would more than likely be tracking groups rather than scouting locations.

"Come," said his Mother coldly, as the carriage lurched to a halt. Her beautiful silver-blond hair was covered with the same thick cloak as his, but unlike many of those gathered outside, she wore no mask.

She pulled her cloak over her head, to hide her face. Draco followed her, doing the same.

He saw figures, hunched, as he walked slowly past. Many wore the masks of old—followers of his father, and those who had risen with the Dark Lord during his initial climb to power.

And there were cloaks of new as well—those who were unmasked, like him. Those who were waiting to follow him. From beneath one cloak, he saw a hand, thin, like Pansy's, pull her cloak closer to her face. A fellow on his left grunted like Crabbe. Another, nearby, faltered a bit, taking a gait like Avery was wont to do.

Draco drew in a breath as his mother led the way towards the front of the mass. There was a shimmering stone rising in the narrows before them. In the center was carved the Dark Mark, glistening, as though alive. A robed figure stood before it, his face completely hidden. By his side, another rose tall, silver eyes gleaming through his mask.

Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, guiding him away from the stone in the center. His heart was beating rapidly. He couldn't take his eyes off the robed figure. Power existed within that figure.

"Remain here," she said, leaving him at the outskirts of the crowd alongside a mausoleum. "Come when I call."

He swallowed. "Yes Mother."

She moved to the front of the gathered crowd. He watched, his mouth dry, as she took her place before the figure Draco was certain was the Dark Lord.

A cloaked arm reached out from behind the mausoleum, yanking him forward, beneath its shadow.

He would have cried out, but a soft hand placed itself over his mouth. "Is this what you truly want?" breathed a voice next to his ear.

Draco stared, openmouthed, as Ginny leaned back from him, letting her hand fall from his lips. She looked disheveled, a brown cloak covering most of her ruby red hair, mussed, more than likely, from hours of flying.

He said nothing, just pulled her to him, kissing her softly. When he released her she breathed against him, sinking into his arms. The cloak fell from his head; he buried his face in her hair.

"Ginny…"

Her hands reached up to his face, pulling away from him gently. "Is this what you really want?"

He tried to avoid her gaze. "How did you get here? The enchantments…the…"

"I've been here since the afternoon," she said softly. "Waiting for you. I saw it all—the barrier, even the arrival of You-Know-Who."

"What? Alone? Ginny…do you have any idea of what he might have done to…"

"The Order will be coming, Draco. Shortly. But I had to see you first. I had to let you decide."

Behind them, the Death Eaters were murmuring softly—just feet away from her.

They'll kill her…

He'd never felt so scared about anything in his life. "Ginny…you can't stop this…please…you're in danger here…"

She ignored him, just placed her hands on his face. "Will you let me go? Can you give me up? No more letters—no more messages. Just me. Can you leave me here like this?"

"He might kill you…"

"I am here to save you, Draco. However I must."

"No. If he finds you…"

"Then I will die. That is what you mean to me," she said softly. "More than my own life." Her hand stroked his cheek. "More than anything."

His heart was beating rapidly. "Ginny…"

"Anything." She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms about him.

A lightness began to creep through his heart. Everything he'd pushed down, held back in the past few weeks, started to fade. The bitterness in his soul, the cold of his heart, dissipated.

He pulled her to close to him. She's saving me… "I can't…I won't. I won't leave you. You were right."

She pulled back from him, her eyes filled with tears. "Draco."

"You were right. You were right, you were right."

She smiled, pulling to him. "Bloody brilliant time to figure this out."

He grinned, nearly laughing. He felt lighter than air. "We should go—quickly."

"There's a pathway here, through the house," she said softly. "We'd have just enough time to get to my broomstick. We can go without being seen."

"We have to…"

A burst of light shot above them. Draco's eyes widened, and he pushed her back, up against the column of the mausoleum. The light formed into a skull—with a snake in its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

"They're beginning," he whispered hurriedly. "There's no time."

"We have to go…"

"We can't…there's no time."

"Yes there is!"

"No! I have to go back, my mother and father will wonder. They'll look—we'll have no time to leave. They'll curse us before we can get away."

"No!" She clutched at him. "Don't…you'll be…"

"How long?"

"Long?"

"Before the Order?"

"Perhaps an hour, maybe less."

"Then…an hour." He bent down, kissing her once more, and hugged her tightly. "Stay out of sight."

"Draco…"

"Please!" he said desperately. "Please, Ginny. I'll do what I can."

She searched his face, and finally nodded.

He pulled the cloak over his head, hiding his face. For the first time in a week, he smiled. A shadow had passed through him—beyond him. In the midst of all the madness—a sense of peace.

He pulled her to him once more. "I love you."

There were tears in her eyes. "Draco…be careful."

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

"There is no bloody way they're going to find them," said Ron, settling back against a chair. "They'll have cast loads of enchantments by now."

"Don't say that," said Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore is just as smart as Voldemort. He'll find them."

The Weasleys had gone out with the Order; all except Mrs. Weasley, who'd stepped through the Floo to tend to Professor Lupin.

Harry was pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "I wish I could have gone with them."

Hermione shook her head. "You can't take on Voldemort and an army of Death Eaters."

"Why not? I did it before," he snapped.

She sighed. "Harry…"

"What about a game of wizard snap?" asked Ron. "I've got cards in my room."

"That's fantastic, Ron," said Hermione. Harry flopped in a chair, waving his hand.

"You can't save the world, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Not yet."

"Speaking of which, where's Ginny?" asked Harry, trying to change the subject. "Wasn't she supposed to be back hours ago?"

"BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione glanced at Harry, who jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking into Ron, who'd flown down the stairs.

"Ron, what's wrong?" cried Hermione, her eyes widening at the sight of his panicked face.

"Ginny…she's…she's gone to…she knows…she's gone…You-Know-Who…"

"WHAT!"

Harry ripped the letter from Ron's hand, Hermione reading over his shoulder.

"Bloody hell," he said softly.

"Where…where is that?" asked Hermione, her hands trembling. "Where are they?"

"The Riddle House," said Harry. "They're at the Riddle House."

"Isn't that where…" Hermione wasn't able to finish. "We…we need to inform the Order."

"THE ORDER!" yelled Ron. "SHE'S GONE TO A GATHERING OF GREAT BLOODY DEATH EATERS! THERE'S NO BLOODY TIME!"

Hermione searched them, her hand raising to her forehead. "What…what do we do? What do we do?"

"HEDWIG! PIG!" cried Harry. He ripped Ginny's note in half, and on the back of both pieces, scribbled "Riddle House."

Hedwig flew in through the window. "Take this to Professor Dumbledore," he instructed, not bothering to take the time to roll it up. She clasped the note in her beak, and raised her wings, flying out through the window. He moved over to where Pig was perched on the sill. "Take this to Professor Lupin," he said. The little owl chirp and grabbed the piece of paper.

He turned to his friends. "Let's go."

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

Draco moved out into the courtyard, pulling the cloak over his head to hide his face.

His mother stood near the front of the mass of Death Eaters. The robed figure in front of the stone pillar turned. "Come," he hissed.

Draco felt a cold shiver run through him. The voice of the Dark Lord.

The Death Eaters moved closer. Draco moved with them, leaving Ginny in the shadow of the tomb.

"Be loyal, all who come here," the Dark Lord commanded. Near him, a twitching finger raised a silver arm.

"Loyal," chanted the Death Eaters.

"We become one, tonight," said the figure. "So our Dark Lord commands it."

"We become more than one," said the Dark Lord. "Tonight we unite the strong with the pure, to become the greatest of wizards. We call upon the First—to become the First."

He looked up, a pair of withered red eyes boring into the crowd. "Who comes first…"

Narcissa turned to the outskirts, her eyes immediately finding Draco. "The Dark Lord calls the first."

He heard a whispered gasp from behind the tomb. "I am First," he said shakily, stepping from beyond the masses. "I come."

He moved as slowly as he could, allowing the Death Eaters to part for him. His Mother lined up to the edge of the parting center. She moved to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and guided him towards the rise

Draco stepped up to the pillar, his heart beating uncontrollably. The Dark Lord was only inches away.

Lucius Malfoy placed a hand on Draco's other shoulder. "He comes when called, my Lord. He is the first."

Behind him, the Death Eaters began to kneel.

Draco glanced up. The skies above them remained clear, save the remnants of the Dark Mark, which hovered above them, like stars. Come soon…

The Dark Lord raised a hand, slowly pushing past his cloak, caressing his chin. "You come…willingly?"

Draco swallowed, trying not to breathe. The smell was old, of revenants, grave dust and death. "I…I come…to serve."

"You come…willingly?"

There was a finger on his tongue, something wet dropping down his throat. He coughed.

The Dark Lord raised his other hand, cupping Draco's face in his skeletal fingers. "You come willingly?"

The world was spinning. "N-no. No…I don't want to…I am not loyal to you," he heard himself whispering.

His eyes widened in horror. Veritaserum…NO!

A brightness exploded. He was stumbling backwards, falling off the knoll, the pain in his head immense, impossible to fathom.

"TRAITOR!" cried the Dark Lord. "TRAITOR!"

Narcissa was staring at Draco beneath the folds of her cloak, horrified. His father's expression was one of pure fury.

"TRAITOR!" he raised his wand. "YOU ARE UNWORTHY!" Draco's Mother was raising her hands, looking to the mausoleum…the Death Eaters moved upon him…the Dark Lord raised a wand…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream broke through the chaos, the muttering Death Eaters who were cursing him stopping, turning to look. Silence filled the air. The Dark Lord raised his head, his wand poised.

"DON'T KILL HIM! PLEASE!"

Ginny stood in the center of the graveyard.

No. No...no…no

The wand of the Dark Lord shook. Ginny moved forward. The Death Eaters began to move towards her, many of them snarling angrily.

One moved forward, grabbing her forcefully by her hair. She shrieked as he pulled her forward.

"RELEASE HER!" cried the Dark Lord in a horrifying, loud voice, which echoed above the tombstones.

The entire group of Death Eaters went dead silent, surprise filtering through the ranks.

Ginny sniffled, yanking her hair from the Death Eater's grasp. Threads of red floated to the ground.

She moved forward silently, making her way to the bottom of the knoll.

"Tom Riddle…" she said softly. "Tom Riddle…I know you."

The Dark Lord recoiled. "Vile. Stained."

"I know you. You know me," she whispered. "You know me."

"UNWORTHY!" cried a Death Eater nearby, striking Ginny across the face. She flew to the ground. Draco rose, pummeling towards him.

A pair of beefy hands, looking very similar to Goyle's, grasped him by the neck and tossed him aside.

"Cruiciatus,"hissed the Dark Lord, attacking the Death Eater who'd struck Ginny. The man writhed in pain as the Dark Lord moved forward. "Come," he said to her, extending a hand.

Ginny swallowed, wiping blood from her nose, and moved forward, towards him.

"What do you offer?" he asked.

She set her trembling lips. "Everything," she whispered. "Everything."

"Come."

She passed by Draco. He watched with horrified eyes from his position at the feet of the Death Eaters.

No…

She moved towards the Dark Lord, reaching him, and bowing her head. He raised his hands to her, touching her hair, caressing her face. His fingers found her mouth. Draco felt his stomach turn. His heart was beating so fast it felt like a giant lump in his chest.

"Do you come willingly…"

She shivered as the drop of Veritaserum touched her tongue. After a moment, she licked her lips.

"I do..."

"Why?"

"To save him," she said softly.

"Will you give yourself to me…all of you…to become one…"

"Yes. To save him."

"What…what are you doing?" Draco cried, trying to pull to his feet. Goyle pinned him down. A voice near him placed hands on his shoulders, and hissed, "you brought this on yourself, Draco. And on her. We warned you."

Pansy…

"NO! Ginny…"

"I will go...willingly," Ginny repeated.

The Dark Lord stared at her. "You are not worthy of the honour."

"I am a pureblood." said Ginny robotically. "I am not the First chosen child, but I am the most powerful among them. I have something your children do not."

"And what is that?" the Dark Lord rasped.

"Tom Riddle. Inside me."

The crowd of Death Eaters started to murmur, many of them in harsh, guttural tones.

"She is not the right choice, my Lord," said the closest Death Eater. He sounded old. "She is a mudblood lover…she…"

"Silence," the Dark Lord hissed. He was studying Ginny with burning eyes. "You come with no objection, pureblood?"

Ginny turned to Draco, who stared at her.

"Ginny, Ginny…" he whispered. "Ginny…"

"I do. On the condition that nothing happens to him."

"His fate is not in your hands."

"I shall only come if he is protected. I will die if he is not, by your hand or mine."

A small grin crept upon the Dark Lord's face. "Very…intriguing. Then I give him to you, as you give yourself to me. His life is yours to save…as your life is mine to take."

"NO!" Draco screamed, breaking from Crabbe's iron grip and pulling to his feet. "She has nothing to do with this! She has never been a part of this!"

Voldemort moved to her side, clasping long fingers about her wrist. Ginny shuddered, her lower lip trembling. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"She is a part of this now." The Dark Lord stroked her hair. "She will be the first. I know her already…she is strong. And she is mine. She has been for quite a long time."

Draco lunged at him.

"Cruciatus!"

He felt his body contort, bending and twisting in that familiar, excruciating way, as his aunt had done to him what seemed like ages ago. He heard his voice echoing in the dark distance.

The pain subsided. A shadow blocked the dim light from the cauldron. The Death Eater who had cast the curse was standing over him.

The cold voice of his father echoed through his mask. "Such a disappointment, Draco. The only good thing you could have done is brought that girl here. I would have killed her before, but it appears the Dark Lord has taken a liking to her."

Draco crouched to the ground, slowly pulling out his wand. "It won't work. She…"

"…is no longer yours to be concerned about," said his Father coldly. "There is nothing for you to be concerned with anymore."

"Let him be, Lucius," said a female voice from nearby. "Leave him alone. He can do nothing more."

"Would you let him live, Narcissa?"

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. Mother…

There was a pause.

"Do you need ask me that? His life is up to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord has willed it to his chosen one."

The shadow of his father remained for a moment longer, then passed away. The Death Eaters were murmuring in the distance. There was a whimpering amongst the voices.

Ginny…

A figure crouched down beside him. A slender hand was stroking his head. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry you couldn't be what you needed to be. That was my fault."

"Mother…"

"I'm sorry. For everything."

Draco glanced up at her. The shadow of the hood was covering her face, but her wand hand was trembling.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I warned you once before. Just like with your aunt. I'm sorry."

She raised her wand. "Goodbye."

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

The Death Eaters were crowding around; Ginny could no longer see Draco, shadowed by the form that was, she was certain, Narcissa Malfoy. The Veritaserum was wearing off.

She'll save him, I know she will. She will. She's his Mother

Voldemort was still holding tightly to her wrist. She swallowed, trying to see past them.

"My Lord," came the unmistakable grunt of Gregory Goyle's father. "We must hurry, we will not have long. If she is here, they will not be far behind. We must go."

There was a blinding flash behind them.

Voldemort turned, swinging her around with him. The crowd of Death Eaters parted.

Narcissa Malfoy was standing on her feet. "Draco, what are you doing?"

"Stay away from me! I'll kill you!"

"Draco!"

His eyes caught Ginny; he looked panicked, afraid. "DRACO! You said you wouldn't hurt him!" she screamed, trying to pull away.

"Don't move, or you will join him," Voldemort hissed.

"NO!"

"Draco, stop!" Narcissa cried, her hood falling back. Her abundant silver blond hair fell outward, framing her face. "You cannot save her! Draco! Don't make me! Please!"

"NO!" He lunged forward, towards the group. "You can't…"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Ginny watched, openmouthed, as the curse flew from Narcissa Malfoy's wand, slamming into the back of Draco's robes as he flew towards her. A word died on his lips as he stretched a hand towards her, the light fading from his eyes.

She couldn't move; she couldn't even cry his name.

Voldemort turned from the scene and grappled with one of the nearby gravestones. The other Death Eaters continued to stare as Mrs. Malfoy fell to her knees, her wand slipping from her hand.

"We go," Voldemort said coldly.

Ginny continued to stare at the lifeless form of Draco, one arm outstretched, reaching for her.

From somewhere, a shriek louder than she'd ever heard echoed through the thin night air. She couldn't be certain who it was—whether it came from her mouth, or from Narcissa's.

Light around them flashed; there was a familiar pull at her stomach, and Draco, Narcissa, and the graveyard faded into darkness.

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

Harry felt the wind rush past his face. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, as it had been since they'd found Ginny's note.

Hermione was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around him. Her heart was beating just as fast, though he couldn't be certain if it was because of the situation or because of how quickly they were flying on his Firebolt.

She'd declined to fly with Ron, and he couldn't say he blamed her, despite Ron's broom being slightly slower and steadier—Firebolts, as International standard brooms, required a great deal more control on the part of the flyer.

But Ron hadn't said two words after they'd left. He simply got his broom, took it outside and flew upwards.

They'd been going that way on to two hours.

Towards the Riddle House.

A place he'd never heard called by its real name, but one he knew intimately well, because he'd been there before.

The shorn shingles of that old manor house—the one that haunted his nightmares--slowly faded into view. A fog had settled around the small knoll upon which it stood.

Somewhere below it, the graveyard sat. Harry shuddered.

Ron slowly began to circle down, as though afraid to fly through the mist. Hermione lifted her head from Harry's back, staring down over the edge of the broom, her arms tightening slightly about his waist.

"Is this…"

"The home of Voldemort's father. The Riddle House," replied Harry, raising his voice slightly over the wind.

I hoped I'd never see it again…

"Harry…"

She nodded towards Ron, who was pelting to the ground. "We'd better go help him." He started a rapid descent down towards the ground, causing Hermione to yelp.

The fog was thick, so much so that Harry could barely see around him. To his left he could just make out the shape of a tall stone. The Dark Mark was etched upon it.

He felt a lump rise in his throat.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, and moved forward.

Harry moved ahead, searching the ground, looking for any visible sign. Parts of the sparse grass were trampled down, as though a large group of people had stood there. They formed a semicircle around a small knoll, with that strange obelisk shaped stone in the center—the one with the Mark emblazoned upon it.

That hadn't been there before.

Ron was ahead of him, studying the stone curiously. He bent down to the ground.

"SHE WAS HERE!"

Hermione and Harry rushed over to him. In his hand, he clutched one thin strand of long, bright red hair.

Hermione stared at it. "But where…where did she go?"

Harry shook his head.

He glanced off to the side. There was a mound of dark robes lying on the ground. He moved over towards it. Hermione and Ron continued to study the hair, glancing over at the pillar for any sort of a sign.

He moved closer; his breath caught in his throat.

It can't be…

"Ron! Hermione!"

Ron and Hermione made their way over. They stopped a few feet away from him, eyes widening.

Hermione raised a hand to her face. "It can't be…Malfoy!"

Harry bent down, rolling the figure over. The unmistakable features of Draco Malfoy stared up at him, lifeless. He was cold to the touch.

Ron was staring in horror. "He…he can't be…"

There was a jagged, lightning bolt shaped cut across his back.

"He's been hit with a deadly curse," said Harry softly. "Was he trying to save Ginny?"

"Who could do something like this?" asked Hermione, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I could," said a cold voice behind them.

Narcissa Malfoy was standing behind him, the hood of her Death Eater's robe pulled back, holding her wand out towards them menacingly.

"And I can do it again."

All I can say is, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, bows I'm sorry this is so long! I'm sorry about what I just did to Draco. Don't worry, Chapter 6 will come when the HBP excitement dies away!

On a lighter note, enjoy Half-Blood Prince! 